On Breaking Down

Last week I asked for suggestions for things to write about that would allow me to quickly drop a thought or two.

Here is one of the first questions asked, along with my response.

Hi there!

I’m Pito from Indonesia. Been following your blog for quite some times but trying to keep myself under the radar. I’m interested with your profession, and on my way to have one like you now.

Funny to meet your writing in my email tonight, because I have a thing in my mind for so long and the incident I experienced this afternoon brought it back to my consciousness: if people say that life is a comedy for those who think and a tragedy for those who feel, I view it as a tragic comic. Well, just stop me anytime if I’m being too nosy, but have you ever feel like breaking down? If you have, besides your cute, loving, little family, what prevent you from doing stupid things, then?

Thanks! Oh, and have a nice day!

Thanks for commenting Pito, I appreciate you breaking radio silence, especially from half way around the world!

No, you’re not being too nosy at all and yes, I’ve felt like breaking down many times.

Even a support system as strong as my family can’t cage what makes me human. There were plenty of times over the past year when I fell into the abyss. Blind hope is an amazing fuel, but it wasn’t always enough to keep me from wondering how many more times the mortgage would hit the credit card or prevent me from questioning whether the danger I was inviting on my trusting family would really be worth it.

I had my moments of internal tirades and outward tears, yes. But I never felt like giving up, at least not for longer than a minute or two at a time.

Hard work and intense focus kept me from doing anything stupid, along with the knowledge that my family was depending on my and that my breakdown meant we’d probably crumble together. Often, when I was feeling my lowest, I wrote. Though almost none of those pages have been published, they will be someday when they can flesh out the chapters of a specific story. But at the time they were only written as the best means for self medication.

So I guess writing and family were the two things that kept me from going over the edge, but that’s probably two sides of the same need.

We all need to express ourselves, and we all need to be heard. Fortunately, I had both a keyboard and a family that was never too tired to listen.

Thanks for the question, Pito!

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