I’m not going to perform strength for anyone today. This is the ugly truth about breaking down. Sometimes, survival isn’t pretty.
I don’t have the energy to play brave. I don’t have the capacity to edit myself into something more digestible. Not for the people who only know how to love me when I’m doing better. Not for the ones who flinch at the truth.
I’m low. Not in a poetic way. Not in a way that begs for admiration. I’m low in the way that people avoid. The kind of low that makes the phone go silent. The kind that makes promises vanish. The kind that reveals who only ever showed up for the highlight reel and couldn’t stomach the behind-the-scenes.
And yet, there’s this expectation I’m supposed to keep smiling through it. Say the right thing. Ask the right way. Be palatable. Be measured. Be less of everything that makes me human.
But today, I couldn’t.
Today I broke down.
And it wasn’t delicate. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t inspirational.
It was raw. It was scared. It was a plea. It was the sound of someone asking for help in the only way she knew how in that moment—without polish, without prep, without the energy to translate the fear into something easier to hold.
I said something I shouldn’t have. I knew it as soon as it left my mouth. It was born from panic, from shame, from the ache of needing and not knowing how to say it safely. I reached for the wrong thing. I reached in fear. I reached from a place I haven’t let anyone see in a long time.
That doesn’t excuse it. But it explains it.
It wasn’t about manipulation or malice. It wasn’t some calculated move. It was exhaustion. It was heartbreak. It was someone who has been holding too much for too long finally folding under the weight.
And instead of compassion, I got correction.
Instead of warmth, I got coldness.
Instead of, “Hey, take a breath. You’re going to be okay,” I got distance. I got judgment. I got silence loud enough to drown in.
I needed someone to put a hand on my back and say, “You’re not a failure. You’re just hurting.”
I needed someone to remind me that I’ve made it through the kind of pain most people never have to imagine. That I’ve built something from rubble. That I’ve carried people I love through hell with no map and no help. That I’ve survived everything that tried to kill me, and I’m still standing.
Instead, I was made to feel like a burden. Like a problem. Like an embarrassment.
What I needed wasn’t a solution. It wasn’t a fix. It wasn’t even agreement.
It was presence.
It was someone willing to sit next to me in the fear.
It was someone who didn’t need to understand the spiral to recognize the need.
It was someone who could look past the panic and say, “This isn’t who you are. This is just where you are.”
But I asked the wrong people. And that’s where I misstepped. I reached for people who have never been capable of holding me when I’m not packaged in strength. People who interpret emotion as instability. Who use distance as discipline. Who hide behind structure because softness scares them.
Still, that doesn’t mean I was wrong for reaching. Or needing. Or breaking.
It doesn’t mean I deserved to be met with judgment just because I was scared.
And I’ll say this plainly: the response to my ask hurt. Not because it was unexpected—I’ve seen this pattern before. But because I hoped this time might be different. That maybe someone would hear the fear behind my words and meet me with grace. That maybe someone would remind me I’m still worthy even when I’m unraveling.
Instead, I was met with moral high ground. I was handed shame like it was medicine. I was given a version of myself twisted to fit someone else’s comfort.
And that broke something in me.
Not forever. Not beyond repair. But enough to remind me: I need to stop asking people to meet me where they’ve never been willing to go.
Still, I take accountability. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I let the panic speak. I let shame take the mic. And I regret that. Deeply.
But here’s what I won’t do: I won’t accept the idea that being in survival mode makes me unworthy.
I won’t carry the weight of being misunderstood by people who never tried to understand.
And I won’t let anyone turn my moment of breaking into a justification for their absence.
If you love someone—really love them—you don’t walk away because they needed you at the wrong time, or in the wrong tone, or in a way that didn’t come wrapped in calm and clarity.
You stay. You breathe with them. You remind them who they are.
And if you couldn’t do that today, okay. But don’t call that love.
Don’t pretend you showed up when all you did was shut the door.
I’ll do better next time.
I’ll speak softer. I’ll ground myself first.
But I hope you’ll do better too.
Because when the people we love stop performing strength, they deserve to be held—not handled.
💥 If You’ve Ever Broken Down Ugly—You’re Not Alone.
What I just shared isn’t rare. It’s just rarely said out loud.
So if you’ve felt the shame spiral after panicking, if you’ve been met with judgment when you needed presence, if your breakdown made people back away instead of step in—you’re not the only one. And no, it doesn’t mean you’re unworthy of love, help, or healing.
There’s a name for what happens when fear comes out sideways. When your need gets misunderstood as manipulation. When your survival mode is misread as instability. It’s called a defense mechanism, and it’s part of how the brain tries to protect us from more pain—only to sometimes create new wounds in the process.
Want to understand what was happening in your brain the last time you cracked? These resources hit:
🧠 Expert-Backed Reads on Fear, Anger, and Miscommunication:
- Why Do I Do That? by Joseph Burgo – a deep dive into defense mechanisms and how they shape the way we relate to others without realizing it.
- Beyond the Rage: Understanding and Managing Anger – on how anger masks heartbreak, fear, and shame more often than not.
- The Anger Workbook (Free PDF) – for anyone who wants to actually do the work of unpacking what’s underneath their reactions.
🎥 Watch These When You’re Too Fried to Read:
- Every Psychological Defense Mechanism Explained in 8 Minutes
- How We Manage Anxiety (and Get Stuck)
- Defense Mechanisms: Psychiatric Mental Health Explained
🔗 Other Posts You Might Need After This One:
- The AfterWords Podcast: Unworthy No More Ep. 4
📣 If You Felt Seen by This—Don’t Just Scroll Past.
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Send it to someone who only knows how to show up when you’re ‘okay.’