Meltdowns, Mascara and Organic Peanut Butter

Lindsey Social Media Manager

I think we all have this expectation that when we have a meltdown, we’ll somehow look like the Disney princesses as they flawlessly toss their heads into their arms and do a few snot-free, back-heaving sobs. Who are then suddenly surrounded by their small woodland friends, all of whom have a vocabulary larger than mine, who comfort them in their weaker moments.

But “flawless” was the furthest thing from my meltdown today as I found myself sitting in my car, full-on sobs, nose running, eyes dripping and with nothing to wipe my face with other than the sleeve of my woolen-ish sweater (ew) and my hands.  

If you’re like me, you can kind of tell when a mini-meltdown will be happening. Like how weather/science/geologist people predict something will happen within a given timeframe, they’re just not sure exactly when and what will set it off.

Welp, I am a super-scientist when it comes to my meltdowns. I know they’re gonna happen, but since I’m a fairly even-keeled person, I don’t know what will set them off. Although when the switch is flipped, it’s usually because of something completely unrelated…that “cap on the pickle-jar” scenario. It’s usually something ridiculous, like the trash bag not fitting on the lid of the trashcan. And rather than pleasantly giving up and buying different trash bags like a normal, sane person, we stretch that sucker until it breaks and the trash can flips over.

“Oh my gosh, why are you crying Lindsey??”

“The f*cking trash bag won’t fit on the f*cking trash can and it’s so stupid and I’m just so sick of this shit!!”

It wasn’t a trashcan that set me off today; it was finding zero parking spots in my neighborhood. Like zilch. All the ones I did find were free because of the street cleaning tomorrow, which was exactly why I was moving my car in the first place. After about 20 minutes of zooming around, I finally gave up and angrily jerked my car from drive to reverse from drive to reverse until I was backed into an open spot that was indeed marked for street cleaning tomorrow. And then I burst into tears.

A few weeks of going from my day job (which I love) to my apartment to do my work (building my business), with too little sleep and too much coffee, already had my poor adrenals on high alert. I wasn’t giving myself enough breathing time.

I love every single thing I am doing; it is a lot of work, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel like it. If I need to stay up until midnight to get my projects done, then so be it! I’m full of passion for what I’m creating and doing. The last few weekends have been great…but filled with work. Again, something I’m totally, 100% willing to do. Another under-lying factor is that I am confident in what I’m doing, but at the same time, I also feel like I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I just keep believing in myself, taking action and feeling so blessed that I have support from amazing people.

But I could feel the breaking point coming where I would need to release the stress and adrenaline. I had hoped that it would be via a sad movie sob session or maybe even through a longer meditation (in my dreams), but no. Blubbering in my car. And then proudly prancing down Broderick Street to my apartment, face mildly streaked with make up and mascara (it was cute. And one more contributing factor to #thesinglelife.)

So, my meltdown wasn’t flawless. It was gushing, full of snot and clearly non-waterproof mascara. At the same time, it was fantastic and much needed.

But I can tell you what I am flawlessly doing right now is sitting on the floor of my apartment writing this with a spoonful of peanut butter in my mouth (it’s organic with no additives, thank you). This was post-forced-cuddle session with my bird, which, for those of you who know birds, “cuddling” isn’t their forte. He loved it though. I know it.

Anyways, I’m gonna go make dinner.

I know, there were no “action steps to make you life healthier and happier” in this post. But I hope this was a story that provided entertainment and a sense that we all have “those kinds of days.” A relatable “fairytale.”

Lots of love from the health and fitness coach who still stress-eats peanut butter once in a while. Peace out friends.

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