***The voice note has a few extra thoughts that I added as I was recording this essay. Listen as your read for the full experience.***

How do I honor being in a place I don't want to be in anymore?

For the first time in my life, I am acutely aware that I am amidst a meltdown—a surreal experience that I can finally grasp. Unlike before, when life's ground would crumble beneath me, and I'd lose consciousness only to resurface after rebuilding the fragments, this time I am present, awake to the turmoil within. 

My journey has been a rollercoaster ride, marked by dizzying heights and harrowing lows. I burn bright and high for a short amount of time and then burn out completely, taking out bystanders on the way down. There's no eject button on this ride, no easy way out. It's not just the external ups and downs of jobs and relationships and life responsibilities; it's the internal tempest, a whirlwind of fighting, fleeing, freezing, and appeasing. 

I've felt like I've been swimming upstream, struggling against life's current, suffocating in the weight of expectations, anger, and responsibilities that have been haunting me for as long as I can remember. The world around me is relentlessly vivid—lights too bright, sounds too loud. I want to be a part of this world so badly, to feel connected—but it seems like every time I try, I short circuit. 

My earliest memories are tinged with embarrassment and shame, tracing back to kindergarten and even earlier. It's astonishing how I, at such a tender age, was already scrutinizing myself, feeling the pressure of taking up space in this world. How did I become so hard on myself so soon?

I've spent years trying to keep up with everyone else, striving to make the best out of whatever life tossed my way. But on reflection, I realize that many of my choices were mere survival tactics, short-term solutions rather than mindful steps toward lasting wellness and happiness. 

Each decision was a response to the pressing question of how to navigate the next day's challenges.

I have been perpetually overwhelmed with being myself and I am tired. What’s the point?

In fleeting moments of stability, I've revealed a side of myself I hold dear—someone fun, affectionate, daring, and creative. However, when the spiral into meltdown mode begins, and the world around me transforms into an overwhelming nightmare where even simple tasks feel agonizing, my focus narrows drastically. It becomes a matter of survival, and I unintentionally distance myself from those close to me. I am a black hole and I will swallow them up. I will be a burden and they will hate me because I am falling apart again. 

The intensity of my emotions engulfs me, and I'm paralyzed by shame, shutting down completely. In these moments, I retreat, disconnecting from everything and everyone, blind to the impact of my actions on those around me. I haven’t been able to see how I have hurt other people. 

Intensity courses through my veins—it's who I am. I feel life so deeply, all of it. Yet, I've spent a lifetime trying to subdue it, attempting to be less sensitive, less conspicuous. I've aimed to fit into a mold that demanded conformity, to minimize my presence. Every action, every move I make, requires immense effort. My sensory needs are so high maintenance, and the mere act of inhabiting my own skin is a challenge. It takes very little to push me over the edge, to ignite a cascade of emotions that spill onto every corner of my life. Fear of not surviving has driven me to impulsive actions and choices, harming not only myself but those in my orbit. I don’t want to move through the world like this anymore.

In addition, I've been reactive—ill-equipped to communicate effectively or manage my emotions. I have been an avid reader my entire life, I thought that I knew how to communicate because I could read good. And that’s just not true at all. I learned a lot of words and could string them together but none of it ever made sense because I had no foundation of communication or conflict resolution. Or anything. 

I was raised to internalize everything, to take every word and action personally. Everything was my fault all the time. I felt like such a f*****g burden to everyone around me. Speaking up wasn't a learned skill; instead, I learned to minimize my needs and shrink into the background, hoping to avoid being a burden. Consequently, I never learned how to resolve conflicts, take responsibility for my actions, or address the profound pain that I've harbored. 

But here's the pivotal realization—I no longer desire to remain in this place. The burnout and anxiety have taken their toll, and my former coping mechanisms, like seeking refuge in sugar and social media, no longer suffice. The anxiety, that prickly sensation akin to icy-hot needles, feels like suffocation, like a tightening grip on the core of my being. I was to get off the ride. I want more balance in my life. 

No wonder I've tried to numb myself; it's as though I'm perpetually speeding past a cop, that unsettling sensation persisting without reprieve. Video game boss music that never goes away. It chips away at my sanity, energy, and coherence, rendering even stringing together thoughts a formidable challenge.

Yet, something has shifted within me. I'm no longer in the same place I once was because now, I possess an awareness—a recognition that I'm standing at a familiar crossroads once again. This time, I'm determined to chart a different course. I'm actively coaxing my nervous system to a gentler rhythm, resisting the pull of hyperdrive. I'm embracing the belief that everything will ultimately be alright, even amid the confusion, messiness, and uncertainty.

It is not easy. I am exhausted. I don’t know what I want to do next. But I don’t want to run from this place of discomfort. God, it’s so uncomfortable. I can’t stand it. My nervous system feels like it’s hooked up to a car battery. I don’t want to repeat the patterns of my past and find the next quick high to get me out of my low. 

I want to be better, I want to do better. I don’t have any answers on how to get there yet. But I have never been so aware of myself. 

Maybe you honor not wanting to be in a place anymore by giving yourself grace for getting there in the first place. 

-JR

***The voice note has a few extra thoughts that I added as I was recording this essay. Listen as your read for the full experience.***

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