This past month I have been emotionally contorted in ways that I did not know were possible.

I was not a particularly emotionally in tune kid. Dare I say, I was a proper late bloomer in that department. I always felt this disconnect between myself and my peers - emotions seemed to really impact them. Not me though. As embarrassing as it is to admit now, apathy was my default.

Now that therapy is in vogue, there is likely language we could use to retroactively diagnose what was going on - emotional repression, detachment, hyper-independence… we’ll leave that to a psychologist.

Then, in my early 20s, an amazing thing happened: I started discovering my own emotional capacity and depth.

I remember falling in love for the first time. Prior to that experience, I had staunchly believed that people paired off for purely financial reasons. I stridently proclaimed that love did not exist and disbelieved anyone who said otherwise. Imagine my shock when I discovered I was capable of doing something as irrational as falling in love with someone. Finally! All the songs and poems and movies made sense!

I remember my first heartbreak. I had never experienced something so utterly soul-crushing. It was as if the foundations of my world collapsed and everything came crashing down… or so it felt! But to experience the richness of that high, I had to be vulnerable enough to open myself up to the risk of that low. Even as I swam through that pit of sadness, I knew this new emotional terrain would ultimately be good for me.

I remember my first depressive period. I was so incredibly gut-wrenchingly lonely. I lay in bed, catatonic, unsure how to cope with the darkness.

I remember the first time I ever felt truly seen. After years of people-pleasing, I made the conscious decision to drop my mask and quit my constant shape-shifting as a social chameleon. There I sat, being my full self in a room full of people I was getting to know. And they seemed to like me for who I was? This pure acceptance felt like the warmest embrace I had ever received.

As my 20s progressed, I realized I had collected enough experiences that served as frames of reference or blueprints to help me navigate life situations as they arose. The “new” emotions felt a little less… well, new.

The third time you catch yourself falling in love, you’re a little more prepared. (AH HA! I’ve seen this one before!) If your coworker does something frustrating, you give them grace (it’s their first life too, after all!). When you move to a new city, you know how to embrace the lonely period and start putting yourself out there again. When you realize you’ve outgrown a friendship, you know to honor that life paths sometimes diverge as you mature.

I thought I had developed a decent emotional playbook… until life handed me something completely new that wasn’t in the manual.

Until a month ago, I had forgotten how jarring and destabilizing it is to encounter a new emotional experience.

For the first time in a long time (or perhaps ever?), my stoicism is being tested. Without oversharing details (while this may feel like a diary entry, I must remind myself I am writing on the internet), I have been navigating the most exceptionally challenging period of my life. Every single day feels impossible, and that is not an exaggeration. Somehow I still wake up to find the sun has risen, the world is turning, and other people are going about their daily motions with apparent ease. I am forcibly reminded that life does go on, even when it so deeply feels like it shouldn’t.

I feel pushed to my absolute breaking point. More so even than that one gnarly mushroom trip where I thought I was melting into the universe in an extremely uncomfortable way (god, do I wish I had stopped nibbling way back earlier in the evening, when the trees just looked silly). There is something so much more raw about facing your own limits as a fallible human being in broad, sober daylight. As it turns out, you don’t even need drugs to dissolve your identity! Sometimes real life will do it for you. No psilocybin needed!

I’m being stretched in ways I didn’t know was possible - strapped to an emotional torture rack. I’ve hit a whole new level of exhaustion, worse than the delirium following a few all-nighters in a row preparing for the high school play. I move through the world feeling faint.

I’m damn near numb to sadness. I’m over that emotion. Frustration? Anger? Resentment? Confusion? Exasperation? I’ll take any of those, just so long as there’s no more sadness.

And perhaps worst of all, as the adrenaline of the immediate emergency wears off, I’m starting to acutely understand some of my own personal limitations. I’m not as strong as I once thought. I am not a good caregiver - as it turns out, I hit my emotional wall rather quickly. Certainly quicker than those close to me who are in this with me.

Why does my emotional battery seem to drain so much faster than theirs? Why do I turn to productivity and “work” as a pacifier for my exhaustion? Or at least attempt to, despite my output suffering under this constant ambient anxiety.

A few months ago, I started feeling a strengthening pull to give more than I received. I was sick of being selfish. I wanted to orient my life toward being of service to others - volunteering, educating, giving to causes I care about, diving into my community, making people’s day a little better. I wanted to start a family, and began candidly telling men I date that wanting children is a non-negotiable for me.

Now? All I want is to be selfish again. So. F*cking. Selfish.

I fear I will not be a good mother someday if just one month of being thrust into a new role requiring exceptional maturity and selflessness is enough to send me to the brink of burnout. I fear my instinct to flee into work to avoid the emotional responsibilities of my life. Am I destined to be one of those distant parents who is outwardly “successful” by certain external metrics but in reality has strained relationships with their kids at home? Part of me is disappointed in myself - I wish I were better! I feel painfully inadequate in this realm of life.

I’m not entirely sure why I’ve decided to share this stream of consciousness. The truth is, writing is my most authentic form of expression. I love video. It can capture so much. But the screen offers a level of separation. I can manipulate it to hide certain emotions or put up a facade of strength. That separation provides safety from having to be fully vulnerable. With writing, on the other hand, I don’t experience that same inhibition. So here I am, typing away at a coffee shop that blasts upbeat alternative pop hits while other patrons laugh, quietly suffering as I face the fact that my life will never be the same and struggling to integrate into my new reality.

I don’t subscribe to any single value system. Having grown up in a Catholic household grappling with doctrine I was supposed to believe, I find myself resisting any rigid moral structure. Whether astrology or atheism, I have little interest in embracing any ideology that grants external forces carte blanche control over my own beliefs.

That said, I have found myself naturally drawn to certain Stoic principles. This monumental experience, though, has forced me to confront how overly simplistic some of the often-repeated clichés sound when your life is shaking at its core. “Stay in the present moment.” “Control what you can and let go of the rest.” These truisms start to sound trite. I still believe them, but my god, this period is testing my internal stability.

I wrote this piece partly to capture and convey the complexity of what I am emotionally undertaking (which I’m not convinced I’ve really succeeded at), and partly so that anyone who faces similar, sudden emotional gravity unwillingly dumped into their otherwise content lives knows they are not alone.

I have enough foresight and awareness to know that this will be good for me - every challenge is an opportunity for personal growth, even when it’s unwelcome and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. How can two opposing things be so true at the same time? I know everything will be all right and that life plays out the way it is meant to… and yet, right now, everything is absolutely f*cked.

Unfortunately, in this case, I’ve come to realize that growth and devastation are not opposites. They come hand-in-hand and are shaping me in ways I never could have predicted.

I threw this piece into ChatGPT and asked for critiques.

“Anchor the piece with a clearer thesis,” the synthetic output encouraged.

And I’m sure this piece would be stronger if I did so… but the truth is that would be inauthentic to how I am currently experiencing this visceral overflow. My lack of a thesis is indicative of the disorganized state of my thoughts. Not every life experience can be boxed up and tied with a bow for easy consumption.

Sometimes life breaks you open not to destroy you, but to shine a light on the parts you didn’t know were unexamined and unfinished. I’m not on the other side of this yet, and it will be a long time until I am, but I can feel the growing pains as I become someone new. So here I am in this new season of life, devastated but also emerging into whoever I’m becoming.

If any of this resonated with you, I’m glad you’re here with me.