First, thank you all so much for your encouraging words yesterday.  It took every ounce of strength I had to post that, and your supportive comments mean the world to me.

So in the spirit of vulnerability and in honor of Brené Brown, I thought I’d write about what happened after I posted that yesterday.

It took me about 3 hours to write that post yesterday, and I had multiple breakdowns throughout it.  I’d burst into tears, looking up, and screaming, “Why??!!” at the Spirit.  “Why do you want me to write about this?? What do you want me to say??!”  I finally got it all down not knowing if I really made a lick of sense throughout it all.  I quickly copy-and-pasted the heart-wrenching story to my website and hit submit.  Then I posted a status on Facebook about hating vulnerability and feeling the need to throw up.

I closed my computer and walked away from my desk, not wanting to see any immediate responses to the post.  I really did feel like I was going to throw up, so I started walking toward the bathroom.  I paused in the kitchen, feeling woozy and bracing myself between the kitchen counter and the dining table.  Then I collapsed to the floor and burst into tears once again.

With my knees pulled into my chest, I started rocking back and forth and shaking uncontrollably.  I started screaming and wailing.  I couldn’t believe the sounds that were coming out of me.  I thought of the Bible verse Romans 8:26 – “Though we know not what we ought to pray for, the Spirit intercedes with groans that words cannot express.”

I was shrieking, screaming, beating my hands on the ground.  Then I just sat there for a few minutes, knees to my chest, head down, and just cried.

I tried to regain my composure, so I stood up and started walking around the house.  I started to get dressed to take the pups on a walk to clear my head and heal in the sunshine.  While trying to put pants on and quell my tears by going about my day, I was overcome with anger and had this urge to demolish something.  I needed to hit, to punch, to kick, anything to get this pent up emotion out of me.

So I ran outside to the shed and started searching for something I could throw or beat to shreds.  I went to our pickup truck that’s filled with junk we need to take to the dump.  There was an old piece of wooden picket fence, but even with my rise of aggression and adrenaline, I couldn’t lift it out by myself.  Desperate for something, anything to demolish, I started frantically looking around the yard.  I found a large wicker basket laying on the ground and a shovel propped up next to it against the shed.  That’ll do, I thought.

I picked up the basket and threw it down as hard as I could.  Then I grabbed the shovel and started beating the basket to shreds.  I raised the shovel over my head and swung it down hard, like chopping with an axe.  I did it over, and over, and over, and over.  Screaming shrieking, and crying all the while.  When the basket was completely pulverized and my hands started to blister, I threw the shovel down amidst the splinters of wood.

Vulnerability Breakdown Aftermath – Remnants of the Basket

Feeling much better, I collapsed in my porch chair and cried some more.  I can barely lift my arms today because they are so sore from the rage-filled basket demolition.

I finally was able to calm down and collect myself, and I went on that walk and healed in the sunshine.

I was really surprised at how I responded to posting that blog yesterday.  I knew it was going to be hard, but I didn’t expect such a violent breakdown.  There were even times where I felt I was being a bit ridiculous.  “Pull yourself together, Kim!” I kept saying to myself.  “You’re stronger than this!”

But it didn’t work.  That pain and sorrow had to get out.

As I reflect on it now, I’m trying to figure out why I reacted that way.  Was it out of embarrassment for being more personal than I’ve ever been?  For sharing a part of me that I’d rather just keep to myself?

Or was it anger for all of this making me feel weak?

I think that’s probably where most of it came from.  Anger.

I’m a very strong person.  I always have been.  I don’t like being perceived as weak and vulnerable.  So I was angry (at Raheem? God? the situation?) for feeling so weak and vulnerable.  Angry for what he did to me and how I feel now because of it.  Angry at God (Spirit) for making me write about all this.  Angry that I had to experience something so traumatic.

After calming down and seeing the positive, encouraging responses from people, I started to feel better.  The tears stopped and my hands were finally steady again.  Then I got a text message from my mom saying that she was praising God for blessing her with me.  So then a whole other round of tears started. 😉  But those were happy tears, loved tears.  Tears that made me thankful for writing and expressing something that was nearly 7 years in the making.

My goal with this blog is for it to be a space where I (and others) can be real.  Speak our truth, express our souls, without fear of condemnation, humiliation, or ridicule.  I realize that talking about this little breakdown I had may make people think I’m “messed up in the head” or in need of counseling or psychiatric help.  And who knows, maybe I am.  Maybe I do.  But I post this today to show you that I am human.  I am real.  My emotions are real and my path to healing is real.