Hitting the Wall

Joelle Deyo is our Wednesday contributor.

She holds a degree in Fine Arts from Cal Poly, Pomona and is an artist residing in Glendora, California.

Joelle knows the pain of marital infidelity, betrayal and divorce, and she is a survivor of addiction, childhood sexual abuse, and Anorexia.

She brings a wealth of experience to Wings Like Eagles, and is willing to be transparent and real so that our readers who have traveled similar paths will have someone with whom they can relate.

She is an advocate for the recovery process, and is a firm believer that there is hope, and a fulfilling life on the other side of Crisis.

It is Joelle's hope is that her experiences, past and present, will bring perspective and encouragement to those who are in the middle of their own life battles and who have been stuck in the pit, just like her.

Last Sunday around 12:30 A.M. my brain went on a mini-vacation to La-La Land.  It does this sometimes when I unintentionally run myself into a state of exhaustion.  Suddenly, the lights in my head blink out, and, even though I’m awake, I become about as personable and coherent as a rug.  I think it’s some kind of survival mechanism – my frontal lobe’s version of playing dead to stop a bear attack.

On this occasion, I was driving home from Pasadena after a very draining weekend when I was enveloped by a heavy mental fog.  I had been in full-on social mode with dozens of people for the better part of three days and I desperately needed to recharge my batteries. To make matters worse, I hadn’t had enough sleep or enough to eat.

I turned off my radio and moved to the slow lane of the freeway, knowing that if I could just hang in there for a few more minutes, I would be home, safe, and in bed.  But then my little internal autopilot took over behind the wheel.  I missed my exit.  Ten minutes later, I drove right past my own driveway thinking, craaaaaap! as I sailed by in slow motion down the street.

Once I finally found my way to my front door, I breathed a sigh of relief, issued my last text of the day, staggered up the stairs, fumbled for my bedroom light, knocked a bottle of perfume off my dresser, tripped on a stray flip-flop, and dropped my phone.  I think at this point the words “Help me, Obi-wan Kenobi,” came out of my mouth.

Obi-wan must have been busy just then.  I hurtled like a meteor toward my bed and immediately fell asleep in my Vince Camutos.

Those of us who have survived or are presently riding out a massive personal upheaval know that sometimes it’s all we can do just to make it to the end of the day.  We don’t have a lot of available funds in our emotional bank accounts and what little we have, we spend on “getting the job done.”  We give everything to our children, our bills, our errands and chores.  We don’t always remember to save anything for ourselves.  Or we feel guilty if we do.

I know all too well that basic self-nurturing can alleviate feelings of anxiety and depression and make daily functioning not just manageable but enjoyable.  I know that I need to eat when I am hungry, sleep when I am tired, get fresh air and take quiet moments during the day to sort out the racing thoughts I live with at all times.  Doing these simple things helps me avoid falling into old, self-defeating cycles.  But, recovery being the lengthy process that it is, and an imperfect one at that, I also know that life can and does get in the way of Life.  That’s when I wind up standing in my kitchen eating leftover chicken and potatoes and drinking purple Gatorade at 2:30 in the morning, just like I did this past Sunday.

After I ate, the fog lifted.  I was still beyond tired, but I could think clearly again.  I felt oddly grateful that I had hit The Wall on my way home that night.  

Hitting The Wall is my personal term for what happens when I push myself past my limits.  You see, I have a tendency to go and go until I smack up against some monolithic opposing Force that stops me in my tracks and lands me on my butt.  I am a person who needs walls in my life -- not because I’m a stupid or oblivious person, but because I am occasionally an over-extended one who feels the pull to give care and attention to everyone and everything in my path, no invite declined, no phone call or email unanswered.

I used to feel very proud about being this kind of person, though less so these days.  Don’t get me wrong; I truly believe that caring for others when the care is administered from a place of fullness is a beautiful thing.  I always want to be the kind of person who places high value on upholding the hearts and minds of the people around me.  In the past, however, I used constant caretaking as an excuse to ignore my own problems and pain.  I often hid behind it like a shield, saying, “I’m a giver. It’s how I’m wired.”  That’s how denial works.  Never mind that my heart was often absent from many of my actions.

I have since learned that it is nearly impossible for me to give anything real to another when I am depleted.  This is what The Wall is for – not to make me feel ashamed, but to remind me that I cannot hope to live joyfully when I am running on fumes, tired, and tuned out.  It also tells me that it’s not selfish but necessary to make the time to do the things that will hold me steady, keep me filled, and keep my relationships healthy.

This week has been another long, too-crazy one.  I’ve been up to my elbows in my to-do list. I can’t believe how quickly new issues crop up around here!  The busier I get the more I want to pull on my Tinker Bell PJ’s, watch cartoons, and eat sugary cereal like I did when I was little.  I want to feel safe, protected, and free to let go of all the junk.  Instead, I am caught in a galactic game of Whack-a-Mole.  The second I smack one problem down, two more come popping up.  And I only have one mallet.

Though I cannot hide away from the world in a safe little bubble, I am also not careening headlong toward The Wall at the moment.  I know that this is because I have been making conscious, daily choices to stop, think, feel, and be – right in the middle of the junk.  I have been able to draw strength and courage from a deeper place within where the Truth resides.  I don’t get to put a gold star on my chart, but I get to live more fully right here in the real world – not in La-La Land – with a clearer sense of who I am and what I was put on this planet to do.