Why burying your emotions deep down will always come back to bite you in the arse


Today started in an unusual way. I had a cup of tea, I switched on Teen Mom 2 and I started writing a to-do list for the week. I wasn’t in much of a writing mood, and so decided I’d start by tackling the smaller, less aggressive and creative tasks.

I sent off an invoice, I applied for a savings account with Santander, I amended my monthly standing order to Chris and I emailed some PRs. Then I had a beautiful delivery from Debenhams – a pretty Valentine’s bouquet of lilac tulips and a rose, complete with glass vase and box of dreamy chocolates. This is an unusual Monday because I felt on top of things, excited for the day, ready to battle with life, ready to win, ready to be in that sort of happy, go-getter mood. I was going to have a damn productive Monday and I was going to feel pretty damn exhilarated about the whole thing.

Next on my to-do list was to tackle the gym and go for a swim. So, there I was, 10am and in the car on the way to the swimming pool kitted out in a brightly-coloured H&M bikini, some trackies, a t-shirt and a hoodie, oh and a pair of flip flops because they make life SO MUCH EASIER post-swim, no attempting to get socks onto wet feet. I arrived at said gym, 15 minutes after leaving the house and there were pretty much no spaces. Like who the flip goes to the gym on a Monday morning? Doesn’t everyone in the world aside from me work a 9-5 office job? Nope. My gym shares a car park with a bike shop, and there were a few spaces near said bike shop so I just put the car then and then merrily got on my way. Except no. Except a bike shop man shouted at me. Apaz it was a space reserved for the bike shop. I apologised, said I hadn’t realised. Said horrible, angry, shouty man continued to shout, I continued to apologise. I got in my car and, whilst driving round the car park frantically looking for another space and desperately fighting the urge to punch myself in the face for being such an idiot and not noticing the tiny black reserved sign, cried. Proper cried. My face looked like a bloated tomato. It was nice.

Then, after three laps of the car park and no spaces, I drove home and continued to blub. Then rang my gym from the comfort of my sofa to complain about the mean shout-y man and the lack of spaces. Then they took my name and have probably put a nice little mark next to my name which means KER-FUCKING-RAZY. So yup.

Obviously no-one is genuinely that upset by a small, greasy man telling them off. That isn’t actually enough to make a sane person cry and then ring someone else (a gym person) crying. But it made me cry. Like a lot. I feared I would never leave the sofa and regain control over my day. And you know why? Because I have other emotions that I’ve decided to throw to the back of my mind and keep there, rather than confront.

I can’t really go into detail about the bigger problems, the things that are making me cry uncontrollably because the people they involve read this blog and I’m scared of the comeback I’ll have to deal with afterwards.

It’s nothing to do with Chris just FYI, nope. I just went and proudly placed my Debenhams Valentine’s flower bouquet on his bedside table because ALL THE LOVE.

I wrote a post a while ago about how exhaustion and tiredness are one of the biggest reasons we have these teary downfalls. It was on the back of moving away from London – a city which sucks all the energy and positivity out of your bones (this sounds horrible – I adore London, but it’s hella draining on the soul), and my new-found happiness and contentment out in suburbia. But over the past few weeks, call it the January blues, I’ve been feeling constantly on edge, ready to cry at one bad comment or negative tweet, like all my strength has been stolen from me.

Sure, the post-Christmas comedown doesn’t help, nor does the lack of money this month or the sad, grey skies, but the main reason for my mental downfall has been all the things I’ve been pushing away. All the things I’ve been burying and trying to build on top of – like trying to build a palace on top of quicksand – my life will never be as perfect and secure and dreamy as I imagine if I cannot tackle the foundations and the demons dragging me down.

Fuck, even I’m impressed at how I just described that. It makes my mine clearer and my path forward more obvious.

I’m sure that will apply to a lot of you too. Sadly, time is one of the biggest healers for rocky emotions, and I’ve been trying to distance myself from the things that make me feel low, the things that drag me into an overly emotional pit of despair – but maybe this is wrong? Maybe I should be confronting my issues face on.

We want the world, we want everything to go our way, for our talents to take us to better places, to be successful to be happy, but we cannot have all our dreams if the platform we are trying to build them on is not stable. So yeah, we need to stop burying shit deep down and hoping it’ll go away, because it’s not going away, it’s just getting squashed further down, getting more cemented in our bones and it will threaten to overwhelm us all at once should we get shouted at/have bad customer service/have plans cancelled or y’know, any situation that is less than ideal.

So yeah, right now I’m sat with a tea, fresh flowers and a candle whilst listening to some soft, sweet Spotify music, hoping I can gain control over Monday and do some serious damage to my to-do list. I’m also still wearing my gym outfit complete with bikini underneath and I have no plans to change, so maybe this will be today’s outfit. Uh huh.

Go win at life, but don’t forget to confront the things causing you pain on your way to the top.

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