bad girl

Welcome to Shame Sandwich, where Megan Lee is writing her way back to wholeness, one personal overshare at a time. Sometimes deep, sometimes swearily un-hinged. Please enjoy responsibly. 🖤

I’m fucking spiraling. It’s 6:59 am on Thursday morning and I’m fucking en route to exidus by method of the churning waters edging me closer and closer to the drain of darkness.

My daughter interrupts these thoughts. Perfectly fine comments that I am in no state to entertain.

She’s home from school today, the second day in a row, because she’s experiencing bad cramping in her lower abdomen, and back pain.

Could it be the start of her period? Seems way too soon for that, but who the fuck knows.

Could it be a bladder infection? Her urinalysis came back normal, but the culture is still pending.

An urgent care visit with no definitive answers, the stress of not knowing how serious this could be, the stress of medical bills, the stress of trying to handle an imploding work week on top of this.

I AM TWO INCHES TO THE DRAIN OF LOSING MY SHIT AND NOBODY MUST KNOW.

Except you. Now you will know.

What the fuck I am so fucking stressed and feel like such a fucking loser because of it but FUCK IT.

Oh god, my daughter is trying to talk to me again and I’m fucking LOSING IT inside.

On the outside?

I’m a perfectly haggard looking 32 year old. Old before my time. Pretending I’m fine on the outside. I’m not fucking fine.

NOT FUCKING FINE.

Do you know how hard it is to pretend I’m fucking fine?

I am so tired of being a single mom.

Of carrying the mental load all by myself.

Every single day in and out from sunrise to sunset without much of a reprieve under the moonlit skies.

I fucking hate this.

And my job. It’s such a fucking clusterfuck of bullshit.

Mounting to-do lists and pressure like a chokehold around my neck.

I WANT TO BURN IT ALL TO THE MOTHERFUCKING GROUND.

How do I keep doing this every single day?

I am so fucking tired.

I want a break.

I don’t want to mom.

I don’t want to be responsible for another human.

Can you IMAGINE the luxury of waking up and just having to deal with WORK SHIT all day??????????????????????????

That fantasy is so distant I can’t even conjure it up in my mind.

I feel so squeezed in every direction.

Also, yesterday morning I had the most intense therapy session I’ve ever had as in I shared something with my therapist that I thought I would take to my grave AND I HAVEN’T HAD A MOMENT TO EVEN BEGIN TO PROCESS ALL OF THE EMOTIONS OF SHARING SOMETHING LIKE THAT. So… there’s that.

And I’m struggling to not come unglued this morning.

Because what’s behind the facade of holding it together is not pretty.

I just want to curl up in my bed and allow myself the luxury of coming unglued.

I want to scream and wail and sob.

Flailing and writhing until all that’s left is the truth.

But instead, I will wipe the tears that have escaped down my cheeks, shut this laptop and pretend I’m fine.

I will show warm enthusiasm for the project my daughter is working on.

I will log in to my work and show up to all of my calls today with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. Not sure there’s any left in my reserves.

I will somehow get through the day juggling a daughter who is home from school, the unending interruptions, the work calls and pressure, the looming question of what is going on with my daughter's symptoms???? WHILST TRYING NOT TO LOSE MY UTTER SHIT DOWN THE MOTHERFUCKING DRAIN OF INSANITY.

inhales

…

exhales

…

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid to post the above real-time thoughts from yesterday. They’re not tidy, nor are they exemplary.

But they are honest. And that’s why I’m posting them.

I’m sick and tired of pretending I’m fine when I’m not. Of constricting instead of unleashing. Of staying quiet when all I want to do is bellow and holler and scream and rage.

I feel like such a bad girl when I expose these emotions. All my life, I’ve been taught the only way to stay safe was to suppress my emotions. Must never show anything that resembles weakness, sadness, or uncertainty or anger.

But, fuck that.

I’m not a fucking AI robot.

I’m a heart beating human who feels more in 5 seconds than some humans feel in 5 years.

AND SOMETIMES — SOMETIMES THAT MEANS THOSE EMOTIONS AREN’T NEAT OR TIDY OR SOMETHING YOU’D DISPLAY IN YOUR LIVING ROOM WINDOW.

But they’re the emotions I’ve got and I refuse to shove them under the rug and place an 827-pound couch on top of them.

I’ve been conditioned to think emotions are either good or bad but the more I live I think that’s a bucket of horse piss.

Emotions are emotions are emotions.

That’s what they are.

They cannot be anything but neutral, perfectly beautiful expressions of what it means to be human.

And if me having a full range of emotions makes some people think I’m the bad girl… so be it.

Maybe I don’t mind being the bad girl after all.

😈

-M

p.s. — wow, I fucking adore opening up. the before and after inside of me is truly transformational. i can feel the transformative healing of self love and self confidence warming me up, slowsly, but surely, day by day. and i am here for it. so fucking here for it.

p.p.s. — my daugher is feeling much better today 🙏❤️ and yesterday didn’t end up being a complete disaster. 🫶 but if you’re the co-workers on my shit list who are absolutely not reading this, i fucking hate you and hope you get the herpes karma you deserve.

From the bottom of my tiny tits, thank you for being here. If these words made you feel, it would mean the world if you could tap the lil ‘heart’, leave a comment or share this. 🖤