Losing my sh**

I had a conversation earlier with a dear friend and we discussed losing one’s shit. Not literally. Figuratively, although the former probably entails some interesting aspects. It got me thinking about times I’ve broken down. Now, I’m sure my mom or sister would say other wise, but it’s been a while considering everything that’s going on. I mean there are days when I need a few minutes to gather myself and my thoughts, but a serious breakdown is few and far between in my calendar. Ok, ok, I might have lost it over the phone with my sister in July after doing too much research, but I had to get it out so I just called her and let it pour. But allow me to explain why this is an exception and not a habit…

In my younger years I was certainly dramatic. I was the youngest child and one of the charismatic members among my friends. I surrounded myself with attention seekers, class clowns and my wrongfully outcasted peers. When something happened I generally reacted quickly and sometimes quite irrationally.

Call it growing up or falling in love or whatever you may, but when I met Evan that changed. As odd as it seems everything slowed down while our relationship was forming. I began to think more rationally even as my heart was behaving recklessly. Evan and I are very similar. I was used to being dramatic, but so was Evan and I toned my theatrics down because it’s hard for a relationship to survive when two explosions are likely to go off. I changed. Like I said, could be growing up, but I think it’s because I love this man so much that I wanted to do (and still do) whatever it took to make it work. So I stopped losing my shit.

When I got pregnant we were hit with some heavy stuff. I was forced to keep it together because I was pregnant. I didn’t want my baby to get anxious because I wasn’t taking care of myself or because she was feeding off my vibes. Pregnancy during ER visits and watching Evan go through radiation treatment has seriously shaped how I handle things now. If I lose my shit, I feel it all goes to shit. When Evan and I first started seeing one another I changed. He changed me. This situation has changed us, but the important thing is that we are still us and we are together through this, wherever it takes us.
So for now, and as long as it’s healthy, I will not lose my shit. Figuratively, and hopefully literally.