A pile of bricks

I sit down in front of a computer to type this post with no initial thought other than to work through what is in my mind at this moment. Forgive me, dear reader, if this is confusing, rambling, or otherwise strange. I know I do not write much outside of basic logs and notes. This post will likely be an outlier.

There is a metaphor Emily and I use when we talk about being overwhelmed. I look at it as a pile of bricks. We are building our lives out of these bricks, so each one needs to be addressed individually. Sometimes a given brick needs to be placed before anything else can be laid on top of it. Sometimes a brick is less important, but still needs addressed. When too many bricks are being added to the pile, it’s difficult to keep everything in order and know which bricks to lay next.

Usually, this metaphor is useful when I talk to Emily because when an additional concern, idea, or task is mentioned or added, I feel like my pile is growing ever larger. I won’t know how much effort each individual brick will take to be mortared and placed. Eventually this pile of bricks becomes untenable and I collapse unless I can work through it.

There have been a few times in my life where the pile has felt too big. I would fall, release all of the tension, ask for help, and pick myself back up again. Each time, I’ve had the wonderful and incredible support of parents, spouse, and sometimes even friends.

This time, I’m facing down a much bigger pile of bricks than I ever have previously, it feels. If I try to hold it all in my mind at once, I can feel myself wavering on the edge of unconsciousness. My entire body feels heavy and sluggish. At once I feel both numb and emotional. Maybe trying to organize them here will be helpful. Maybe not, but right now I can’t ask for the support I normally would. In a sense, I’m on my own.

I won’t unload my pile of bricks on you, dear reader. I have typed and retyped the list, but it’s simply too big for me, in good conscience lay it here. The list also relies on the privacy and cooperation of others who I have not, and will not, ask nor receive permission from to air their laundry. Suffice to say, there are heavy burdens which are crushing me into the depressive state that is obvious from my writing today.

Normally, when the pile gets preposterously heavy, my collapse is more of an anxiety and panic attack than a depressive episode, but the two disorders do walk arm in arm, so I suppose the different tenor of my reaction this time shouldn’t be all that surprising, especially with the tone of the most recent and largest additions to my brick pile.

It is that very same tone that makes this one so much harder to rely on others for support this time. I know that even if people are hurting, they can support one another. I don’t feel like I need to be the only strong person in the room. It just feels bad to me when I am asking people for help when they are the very same people I am trying to be strong and helpful for. It’s a complicated feeling, and one I don’t particularly like.

I am not casting about for a lifeline from you either, dear reader. I only wish to quietly work through my pile on my own, but it is nice to shout into the void sometimes. “I’m working hard!” or “I may feel defeated now, but I know it won’t be forever.” So, I do not ask for your attention, dear reader. I do not need or want it. I simply am looking out into the evening sky and saying, to the world in general and to no one at all, “I am alive.”