Sometimes life ain't pretty.
I'm not sure if I made that up or if it's something my grandma told me. She was always doling out such gems as "Don't lean against the car door or you'll fall out" and "There's no better snack than sardines with mustard."
In short, advice was not her forte.
But there is a lot of truth in how ugly things can be.
I'm not talking about the ugliness of the world where parents beat their kids to death and men lock women in their basements for torture for decades. Yes, that's extreme ugliness and it's horrible and I'm not making comparisons to that at all.
I'm talking about the every-day middle-class ugliness that can knock a person to their knees. Whether it's depression or anxiety or feeling overwhelmed or a cold that won't go away or the fact that you can't open the cap to a bottle of Robitussin... sometimes all you want to do is crumple to the floor and ugly-cry.
Sometimes you reach a point where you don't know if you can pick yourself back up.
How long can I stay here until someone finds me and tells me it's all going to be ok?
Why is it taboo to talk about this? I can't be the only one who has ever felt completely hopeless for no one reason in particular.
What can I do for myself when this happens?
If the answer is to drink tea and meditate, I may punch you.
I climbed into bed. And I cried.
Yes, this was selfish.
Yes, I ignored my family while this happened.
Yes, I felt better once I climbed back out.
One thing I learned from hypnotherapy is that sometimes you have to do what feels right for you. And if that's slightly unhealthy-seeming but you do feel relief from it, then by all means do it.
So I went to bed.
I woke up an hour later and I felt OK. Not great.
But still better than the ugly.