I am (kind of clearly) a person who often processes better after I have talked things out with people.
(I say ‘kind of clearly’ because if this wasn’t how I worked, I probably wouldn’t be running a blog like this, where it’s just me, talking about my life and how I think and what I do and how I feel.)
There are still times, though, when I wish that I was better at internal processing.
On the one hand, I’m getting a lot better at calling my friends when I need them. I have a really amazing support network, and I’m getting a lot better at leaning on them when I need to.
But I still have these…echoes of guilt.
Some clinging image that strength comes from being able to not need people.
I spent so many years of my life believing that. So much of my life, I spent thinking that what it meant to be successful, what it meant to be a… worthy person, was to be silent.
I thought that what it meant to be an adult meant to never need help, to never ask for help.
I thought there was some kind of nobility in just drowning in all of it; some kind of cosmic acknowledgement of my martyrdom would magically appear.
Then I learned that I could actually do the shit that made my life better. I was allowed to talk to people if it helped.
And now I do that.
Sometimes all I really need is someone to say ‘Yes, it sucks, and tomorrow it will still suck, and you’re going to deal with it, and you’ll be fine.’
and then I respond with ‘Oh, yeah. That’s right. I *do* know that.’
But sometimes, I sit there, and yes, I feel better, because, at this point, this really is how I process shit.
But at the same time, sometimes I just… really wish it wasn’t?
I talk a lot – about pretty much everything.
Sometimes I just wish I was better at being quiet.