The first lines from “I am changing” my favorite song from the musical Dreamgirls. Only I was saying them to myself and no one else.
I’d reached a point where I was so saturated that I could not hold one more thing. I was filled to the brim and spilling over with fear and anxiety and tears were uncontrollably escaping my eyes as if there was an exodus. I felt I was breaking. It was in that moment I felt like I had to give up. Only…I was never one to quit things. Never one to walk away. Never one to call it or close and door and burn a bridge. Why, then, would I start now?
I wasn’t giving up on me, I explained to myself, I was giving up on holding myself solely accountable for fixing it when clearly I did not have the capacity to. I had overwhelmed my system and was short circuiting. My mother asked if I was having a mental breakdown and I couldn’t find the words to tell her ‘no’. Maybe I was, and if I was what did that mean?
In that moment I decided very clearly I give up. And I opened up my arms and released every problem, every worry, every trouble to God.
I can’t hold it anymore. I can’t suffer from it anymore. I am tired. I can’t house this sadness. I can’t board this pain. I can no longer accommodate this fear and this doubt is no longer welcome. So take it, because I can hold it anymore.
The irony is I never should’ve been hoarding it all to begin with. Faith taught me better, but a hard head makes a soft ass–my mother always says.
I’m the days since the release I haven’t had a panic attack. I have felt joy in a way I couldn’t access before. I have felt the soothing calm of nothingness. Which feels like silence after a cacophony of unrest. It was a breath of air felt in the deepest part of my lungs. It was the sunshine on my face after months of rain.
Look at me, I am changing.