This morning is my last morning sitting outside on the second floor patio drinking my coffee as my son sleeps and the city of Los Angeles wakes up. I’m at that point where I’m ready to go home but I’m also sad that the trip is over. I’m ready to go back to reality with all that I’ve learned, the confidence I’ve gained, the memories we’ve made before the school year begins again. I’ve been having vivid dreams at night, and last night was no different. In one dream that woke me up at 3:30am, my son and I were having fun and then of course something bad happened to him. What was interesting was in the dream he was still small, maybe 7 or 8, now he will be 16 in just a few days. So much has changed. Once I was able to go back to bed, rollercoasters were in my dreams next. Now, I chose to sit out on some of the big ones this trip, but that isn’t like me. Normally I’m a dare devil, a thrill seeker, a risk taker. The past few years have changed me.
In this dream I opted out of going on the Rollercoaster with the person I was with, they weren’t too happy with me about it. But before I knew it, I accidentally sat in the seat, the bars lowered down, and we were rising in the air. There was a woman sitting next to me with her child and she saw that I was scared so she put her hand on my arm and she told me everything was going to be ok. She said something like, “You’ll see its not that bad. You’ll have fun”. And oddly enough that was all I needed to calm down. I’m sure there is a psychological reason I’m having a harder time getting on rollercoasters since my mental breakdown. Maybe it’s partly because I’m no longer speaking with my mom? Maybe it’s still too fresh and over time I’ll be able to build myself up to more things? Maybe it’s because I truly can’t help but constantly think of what could go wrong? Only time will tell.
I suppose the point of writing about this this morning is that it all connects back to that. When I had my breakdown, and soon after the hospital, I never in a million years would’ve guessed I’d be able to do this trip. But I did. Does it mean that I did it anxiety free? Absolutely not. But the next time I’ll have less anxiety. Maybe the next time I’ll do a little more thrill seeking. This morning I was thinking back to the moments right when I started back working after my mental breakdown. It was March of 2021, and after a week or two I was panicking in every moment. I was absolutely sure I was going to be fired, lose my home, have to find somewhere for my dog and son to stay. Make sure they were safe. I would be ok if they had somewhere. I wanted to be able to leave this earth so badly. It felt like I had a mountain to climb, everything felt hard. The grocery store, work, even showering every day felt excruciating to me. Nothing interested me. It was like my brain was broken and I wasn’t sure it was going to ever be fixed again. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be me. I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it. I caught a small glimpse of how you could lose everything. It is terrifying.
So I do like to remember that when I’m being hard on myself for not doing certain things. Maybe my thrill ride is driving on a five lane freeway every day for a week. Or navigating the city streets, and all that comes with them. Or planning and executing the past 10 days honestly somewhat flawlessly. Maybe there were times where I knew my limits, where my son wanted to do something and I didn’t. And thats ok. I’m doing the best that I can, and if I take just a moment to reflect back I can’t believe I’ve made it where I am today from where I’ve been.
The Girl Without A Face 