the toilet overfloweth.

a song to set the scene // tired of being alone by al green

How did I get here?

Collapsed over the steering wheel in my driveway, in a car that wasn’t even mine?

I had just driven home, having nearly been t-boned in a roundabout by my house. In an effort to express my shock and horror, I slammed on the horn of this borrowed 2005 Yukon, only to find that the horn was broken.

To this unaware and oblivious other driver, he heard nothing.

But on the inside of this borrowed 2005 Yukon? Screams, rage, and anger. Frustration bubbled over, and to add further insult to injury, my partner didn’t pick up his phone when I tried calling for solace.

And so, thunking my way through the ice and breakup of Alaska’s spring season, I slugged into my driveway and collapsed over the steering wheel.

It was there that I wept, wondering: how did I get here?

You see, screaming, rage, and anger, aren’t emotions I’m particularly familiar with. Call it childhood trauma, but I tend to shut down, as opposed to act out.

Anger… scares me. It’s not a feeling I enjoy, and not one that rears his head often.

So it surprised me a little, feeling this emotion, along with the stream of expletives I shouted in the interior of this borrowed 2005 Yukon (sorry Mom).

And so, as I sat there, bawling in front of my garage, I wondered again: how did I get here?

You see, it wasn’t the almost getting t-boned in a roundabout that brought out this collapse. That was just the tipping point.

In the course of just a few weeks, I’ve been hit with amending my taxes, working triples to pay for not one, but two visits from Roto-Rooter to thaw out frozen pipes; oh, and the borrowed car? It’s because my car died. Something about a failed high voltage cabin heater, which shorts some system, leaving my car dead in the water and with no way to get to Anchorage without paying for a $1500 tow.

Did I mention I’ve been managing my household by myself, acclimating a new cat, and occasionally picking poop out of the toilet when the pipes froze over with my gloved hands?

No one likes a bathroom that smells like an outhouse.

Needless to say, I’ve been dealing with some shi*.

Literally.

And on top of all that, I’m doing it alone.

So yeah, nearly getting t-boned in a roundabout and coming home to an empty house sent me over the edge.

One could say my toilet overflowed.

(because it actually did, twice)

But the thing about overflowing toilets? They can be fixed.

So can tipping points, being overwhelmed, and holding the lid on my anti-depressants from pushing against my threshold.

In the moment though? The shi* stinks, and it feels like there’s no way to deal with it.

But there almost always is.

You see, after sitting in my borrowed 2005 Yukon, the tears subsided and I felt better. Relieved, even. I guess I needed that outlet, that release. Of course, being nearly t-boned in a roundabout is not a preferable way to get there, but safely expressing this pent-up anger, rage, frustration, and exhaustion in the comfort of my driveway enabled me to release some of the stress that’s been building for so long inside of me.

I’ve always liked to look at each of my emotions as welcome and necessary feelings that have a lot to teach me about myself. And accepting the full spectrum of emotions, even my perceived “negative” ones enables me to grow.

Ironically, it was anger, once perceived as a traumatic emotion that wound up being the feeling that healed me.

Who knew not all shi* was bad?