I had something of an emotional breakdown earlier in the week. For anyone who follows me on Twitter, the breaking point was probably fairly self-evident. Actually I had been exclaiming crazy sentiments for days, if not weeks. I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their patience and support. A lot of things just came together all at once and I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. I was so despondent. I can’t even find the words. And I don’t want to dwell upon that too much lest I get sucked back in.

In high school I used to groan everytime a teacher would present yet another trite cliched “coming of age” novel for our assessment. But that’s essentially where I am now. I am trying to figure out who I am. I am trying to figure out why I am alive, why I – in particular – am here and breathing the air, drinking the water. Religion was a profound and confusing dead end when it came to my search for meaning. I don’t really know what I want to do with my life. I don’t know what I want to do for a living. I just have these vague inklings as to things that appeal to me. I don’t want another “job” – I want a career. I want a purpose. I want meaning. (I probably want too much.)

And then there are all these relationships in my life. Parents. Family. Friends. I wonder who they think I am. (There’s a bit of a joke on Twitter about exactly what I ‘do’. I listed a handful of hobbies on there and people have made whatever assumptions they want to make. I might as well tell you. I don’t really “do” anything. I made a conscious decision to take time off after working at the same place for four years.) There is so much “stuff” that happens and doesn’t happens, that is articulated or skimmed over. There are expectations. My expectations, their expectations. My absolute need to please other people, my absolute fear of confrontation and abandoment.

Something in particular had been weighing on my mind and I was talking to my friend Joel about it. Joel, true to typical form, retorted with all these funny sarcastic and ironic comments as I fumbled my way through my thoughts. And it was funny, because he is funny, but I left that conversation thinking, “But not everyone is so enlightened.” It was like watching an old sitcom without the laughter track, without the comic timing. All the funny tongue-in-cheek gags replayed in my head with a disconcerting deadpan delivery. And it was like I was looking for approval from everybody in the world – which is crazy, I know that is crazy. But when you reach that point where the well is completely empty, where you have no reserve of self-esteem left, how do you refill it?

And later that day I just… lost it.

I broke down. I wept. I sang. I wrote. It was pathetic.

One Tweet kind of said it all:

in hindsight being angry was a lot easier than being this sad.

I’m sure I was hysterical. I admitted to another friend that while I didn’t believe in God at all I was convinced ‘he’ (or whomever) was punishing me. That somehow it only just started to rain at that point because I was going mad from cabin fever and wanted to go for a walk. And this friend walked me through every crazy thing I said. He made me check the weather forecast. He gave me examples that were contrary to the madness spewing from my mind. I don’t think I have ever needed someone handy to deconstruct my thoughts as much as I did in the moment. And I admitted that I was fearful, and I admitted that I wished I could be anyone else except me and how I wanted to just run away from everything.

It was a breakthrough as much as a breakdown. It was about articulating those fears I never dared speak aloud. It was about getting those emotions – that ‘stuff’ – out of my body. It was about release. And the rain stopped, both literally and metaphorically. Conversations that were overdue finally took place. A dear friend whom I had not communicated with in about a week magic materialised.

And then I looked outside my window and it was raining again, only it didn’t feel like the end of the world.