I Finally Broke. And it was a Good Thing.

Picture driving down a main road with a large construction truck in front of you. You've got things to do, places to be. But all you've got is the one lane in front of you, an immovable object, and your hands on the wheel. After you accept the nature of your ride, a piece of gravel flies off the truck and cracks the top of your windshield on the driver's side. "Ouch! Poor car." You keep driving.

The second rock hits the bottom passenger side, another crack. "Oh. That's probably not good." You keep driving. But then you realize you've missed your turn. Finally you make it to your destination, you get things done, and return home. A few days later, you start the car, after ignoring the two small cracks that have branched out. As you merge onto the highway, the two cracks meet in the middle, and the windshield shatters.

A couple of weeks ago, I figured I was due for a day off. We didn't have much childcare last week, and I was definitely showing signs of burn out and fatigue. As the week went on, I heard from friends who were both facing extreme situations with loved ones, another black man was shot in the back for no damn reason, and I quickly realized I had made a rather large mistake at work, which caused my manager and coworkers to sprint unnecessarily.

I'm good at handling things--adjusting, being flexible, and generally optimistic. What I lack is the ability to displace negative thoughts and emotions with productivity (aka, "bury it with being busy"). Physically worn down, mentally disconnected, emotionally overwhelmed. I let the small cracks bleed like watercolors. Last week the cracks met in the middle, and I broke.

Stage 1: Reeling and assuming the worst. So much suffering and I was powerless to help. Our country is 1930s Germany falling into the social and political abyss. My kids resent me for having to work. Covid has prevented my family from settling into a new town, and I'm lonely. A mistake at work is sure to reap distrust and ire from my manager and coworkers.

I felt stuck forever in the worst case scenario well before even looking around for a rope. I cried. I went for a walk. And then finally made my first good decision of the week: to talk about it. Honestly, I wish I could quit Facebook. But access to the right people at the right time has kept me loyal. So, I started a discussion:

"Frustrated. Sad. Guilty. Worried. Angry. Under-delivering. Burnt out. Disappointed. Powerless. It's been a bad week. I know I'm not alone. And I know something is going to break the cycle. What's it going to be?

Tell me something good. What is something GOOD that happened this week to you or someone you know? A good story with a good result? A funny dream? Let's hear it because I'm done."

You know what one honest little post can do? It can start replacing your windshield. Family and friends reached out, sent me good news, success stories, and juvenile videos--because they know me. Two women in my neighborhood invited me over for properly-distanced-get-to-know-you driveway smores. I stepped back, stopped unraveling, and let other people help provide perspective and empathy, without judgement.

When we break, we underestimate people because we are too busy punching ourselves to consider another approach. We immediately fear people in our lives turning on us--even when they have historically shown to do the exact opposite.

I reached out to my manager and coworkers, assuming they were going to be upset and justly short as a result of my mistake. But I wanted them to know how I was feeling, and that I hated watching my teammates do full-field sprints because I under-performed at practice. They were understanding, and even found silver linings in problem solving and having to collaborate more closely to get across the finish line. I was so impressed and humbled, but I shouldn't have been. They've been this way since I started interviewing. And maybe I've just never really felt that kind of support before.

Talking it out and letting go so other people can help pick you up doesn't work for everyone in every situation. But it worked for me, this time. I'd also wager there are a lot of people out there cracking and breaking under a million unique pressures.

A few things I've learned (or have been reminded):

1. Pay attention to the small cracks. Although harder to acknowledge as a priority, they are easier to fix.
2. Don't make assumptions about how other people will respond to your situation or your sharing of your situation.
3. When something prevents you from getting things done, figure out if your attitude toward it indicates a bigger problem.
4. Own your mistakes, but don't let them victimize you.
5. The people you love, live with, work with--you need to access them when you can't access yourself.

The state of the world, your country, your state, your district, your work, your home--it's all more complicated right now. I know I'm not special. There are countless others with much larger, more essential issues than I could ever imagine. But no matter what might be bending, cracking, or breaking you at the moment, it's important to, in your own way, realize you aren't the windshield. You're still the one driving the car.