A Can of Worms

I have inadvertently opened the proverbial can of worms, not realizing that I still had it tucked away in a dark basement behind years of accumulated compensatory mechanisms.  I’m not sure exactly how it happened as the process took a few months to build up. The past year has been a text book list of major stressors; the end of a relationship, family illness, job changes, and financial stress.

I had become pretty skilled at maintaining a façade in my interactions with other people. Witty, smart, flirty or sexy depending on the audience. In my mind these were appropriate coping skills I had carefully crafted in order to overcome severe depression and a host of other issue. When I recently met someone who was very open and honest about his battles, I became empathetic. I suppose in the past, by not dealing with others issues, it was easier not to deal with my own.  Soon my tightly closed eyes began to open. As they did I started to see myself, not as one who had defeated and overcome, but instead a weak and scared man with no idea how to deal with this new flood of feelings.

Finally I reached a breaking point and completely lost a grip on my ordered existence. I lost my appetite, couldn’t sleep, and I cried like a blubbering idiot. But what of the worms? I can’t just put them in the same types of containers from my past. I need to use them as bait to lure in more honest emotions. For the first time in years I am looking my fucked up mind square in the eye, and it scares the shit out of me!