Spoiler Alert For Loved Ones: I'm okay. I really am. This is partially to vent some feelings and partially to make a point and share my own experience.

The truth of the matter is, sometimes I really just don't want to exist. I'm stressed and tired and frankly am not only unsurprised that Atlas might shrug the world off his shoulders, but rather baffled he didn't do it sooner--because it sucks. 

It sucks so bad to feel like you're the one carrying everything. It sucks. A LOT. So much that very often you feel yourself teetering on the edge of just about to laugh or cry but you can't tell which and then they both come out and you just look fucking crazy.

And then I really just want to quit.

Except I don't really, because the shitty thing about existing is you don't just get to quit and then apologize to your boss and come back. You're just done for good and that's really not even remotely what I'm looking for here.

So maybe I don't want to stop existing so much as I would like to take a mental leave of absence for a month. A whole month where my life and responsibilities are on pause and not actually stacking up while I try to ignore them so I can recenter myself and not think about what bills are paid vs the money in my account. A month where I can just do yoga and read under leafy trees that look like Grandmother Willow and learn to paint with all the colors of the wind and all that Disney princess crap that looks so damn freeing and relaxing. 

I'm actually pretty damn happy most days. I'm just tired. So, so tired. I feel like I aged a decade in the last year. And no one is really to blame for it. Just a lot of really bad things happened to two people who were isolated in a city where they didn't know anyone... because some dumbass thought it would be a good idea to go there.

Oh wait. That dumbass was me. I guess I'm to blame for a lot of that then. Well... lesson learned then, right?

And it sucks because I really need that break from... everything... and it's not actually possible to achieve. It's just not. You can't take a vacation from your actual life--and you certainly can't take a vacation from yourself. 

I mean I suppose you can, possibly--depending what the afterlife really is or isn't--but again that's kind of a permanent option for what really is a request for some temporary relief. 

And even thinking about that makes me remember the devastation my brother left when he died. The faces of my parents. How my sister howled and cried in the car on the way to the funeral, and how years later we're still super fucked up. I'm pretty sure if I was even ever slightly tempted by suicide, all I would have to do is remember all that and immediately call the right people to get me the help I need. 

I'm not suicidal. That should be clear. Mom, if you're reading this, this is not something you have to worry about from me. EVER. I'm no where near that road. I don't even know the cross streets.

English doesn't really have a word for this frustrating and heartbreaking feeling that occasionally churns inside me so I'm struggling to explain it. Maybe German does. Or Russian. Russia totally seems like a place that could put all of that emotional mess into a single word. I mean, I've read Chekov, and from what I can tell 90% of his plays were about people wanting a vacation from life (and themselves), but not being able to get it because hello, that's not possible without dying (maybe) and your family is really never getting to Moscow if you do that. Plus then they'll be even more depressing and a Chekov play really doesn't need to be even MORE depressing.

I think the closest I can get to explaining it is this: What I mean when I say, "Sometimes I want to stop existing" is that I wish I had a literal working TARDIS so I can step out of my current time and space to recover but still return exactly where I left so life isn't in shambles by the time I have my shit together. But since I'm sans TARDIS, I'm stuck just kind of figuring out how to deal with it on my own. And you get stuck reading some really rambling writing from a woman you probably just signed up to hear some music, learn some cool things or read some semi-decent fiction from.

I'm sorry about that.

However, I'm also sorry because I know that just talking about this, just saying the word "suicide" will make someone think, "OMG, KIRI CALLAGHAN IS SUICIDAL AND DEPRESSED." Because as a culture we really suck when it comes to talking about negative emotions and thoughts. Like we're just not supposed to have them. 

I can't tell you how many times I've seen someone post on FB how they are "taking a break from Face Book" because they "just can't take all the negativity." 

This is something that has always rubbed me the wrong way and I kinda take deep personal offense to. Because I feel like I've encountered it my whole life--well before social media let people dismiss our problems without saying it to our faces.

This is the shitty downside of being a happy person that people never tell you. If you're ever unhappy, you learn really quickly who's a friend and who's kinda an asshole.

Look. It's okay to be broken. It's okay if you don't want to smile. It's okay to not be okay. Sometimes, it's even necessary. 

Occasionally, my family did understand this, but I think having two kids and one parent with severe bi-polar and depressive disorders completely fucked the learning curve. A naturally happy child was too suspicious.

I do believe this is one genetic bullet that I somehow dodged. Because even at my lowest, after a little soul searching or word vomiting, I can always identify the source. And when I can't right off the bat, it's because I don't want to look at the source. The source is too painful at that moment and I'd rather be numbly melancholy than fully immersed in agony. I feel more useful that way... MOST of the time. Sometimes it just builds up and you're kinda useless either way.

But because my parents were VERY wary about their third child also cropping up with this medical issue (rightly so), a lot of my negative moods were called into question. After I'd been soothed (and on some rare occasions, BEFORE I had been soothed), I'd be asked a series of questions very clearly asked to see if I was displaying any telltale symptoms of mental illness. I get it, normally I'm a very happy person. Bubbly, even. And excited.

So when I'm not that... It's like a zillion flags go up. And that can be... a little frustrating. Okay, very frustrating. It's like being asked if it's your time of the month any time you're not happy--but it's way less douchey and from a genuinely much more loving place. 

But now that I'm an adult, I'm at a point where even I start to question, "Wait, do I have a legit reason to be upset? Why am I sad?" And interrogating my sadness, or part of my brain feeling paranoid that this emotion is disingenuous...  does not particularly help.

Some people do need medication to be stable. And some days I wonder if I'm just kidding myself and I should be one of them because... that's kind of how I was raised.

And most days I realize, "No, I need something medication can't give me, and I'm upset because I've bottled a million things up out of habit and now they're spilling out." And I think I bottle so much because growing up, I got the notion that feeling sad was a bad thing that made people I love worry. And I didn't want to make people worry. 

And as The Doctor has said to me many times, "That's ridiculous."

I have so many people who love me and just want to help. And they are there for me the way I have been there for them...

For me to act like helping them is my responsibility as a loved one, but treat them helping me is a burden... 

Is fucking wrong. And this is a lesson I have to re-teach myself EVERY DAY.

I don't know how I really got that bad habit. It's certainly not something my parents taught me to do--I just wrongly assumed it's what I needed to do to stop them from worrying.

It's okay for people to worry. They love you. There is nothing wrong with worrying. They want you to genuinely be okay, not for you to pretend. THEIR CONCERN IS NOT A CUE FOR YOU TO BE A BETTER ACTOR. 

NO ONE BENEFITS FROM YOU PRETENDING TO BE HAPPY.

To sum up, because holy crap that was a lot of rambling:

1. It's okay to be broken.

2. Make sure you're getting the care you need, whether it's professional or just letting friends know.

3. Bottling your emotions and problems is SUPER Unhealthy.

4. Life would be easier if we all had a TARDIS, or at least some kind of room that existed outside of time.

5. NO ONE BENEFITS FROM YOU PRETENDING TO BE HAPPY.

6. We should really talk about this more--especially with kids, because they're making assumptions about their environment without our knowledge and sometimes those assumptions lead to long-term damage control.

    --Now you all know why I love Inside Out so much...

I love you.

Tea & Hugs,

Kiri

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