You Have Permission to Fall Apart

Sometimes when I’m having a sad day (hullo there Depression), I like to write myself little love notes. Sometimes they’re encouraging or loving or comforting. A lot of the time they’re validating. It is so important to validate what you’re feeling. For so long I forced myself to get over things. I told myself not to dwell on it. Let it go. Move on. My turn-around rate on emotions was supposed to be fast. Get. Over. It.

But being the me that I am, that doesn’t work. I have to feel things. I have to process things, and it often takes me awhile. Being the sensitive little noodle that I am, the depths of my feelings can sometimes be overwhelming. I wrote these words (in my Self-Love Workbook actually!) when I was having a sad day. I wanted to remind myself that however I choose to process my feelings is okay. What I feel is okay. No trying to shut myself down or force my feelings away.

I needed to hear this, feel this, and I thought you might too.

You have permission to fall apart. Permission to break and crumble and feel like your edges are being broken off and you don’t know any longer where you end and begin. You are allowed to feel like the only thing keeping you from insanity is the force of your fingertips on the edge. Holding on. Refusing to let go.

You have permission to need. You are allowed to need. Help. Love. Understanding. You don’t have to suffer alone. And if you want to fall apart, alone, in the darkness of your room? You have permission to do that too. It’s okay. You’ll get back up. Brush yourself off and you’ll be okay.

You have permission, right here in this moment. To let the air enter your lungs again. To take a breath. Stop holding on so tightly to yourself and your crumbling pieces that you’re forgetting to breathe.

Breathe.

You have permission to feel everything, to let it crash over you in waves. Or to step back to the safety of the shore, giving yourself distance, giving yourself a rest. Holding your breath underwater is hard.

You have permission to untangle those knots that are sitting in the depths of your belly. Put your hands on your tummy and feel your breath moving there.

You have permission to cry. Ugly cry, with your head buried in the pillow as you scream your anguish at the world. Be mad. You are allowed to be mad. It means you’re still fighting.

You have permission to take the next minute, five minutes, or five hours, and make them yours. Fill them with medicine that soothes those wounds on your soul. Let them breathe and let them heal.

You have permission to take your time. Everyone heals at their own pace. Don’t rush it. Don’t force your wounds to close and heal jaggedly when there’s still poison inside of them.

You have permission to not know what the right step is just as long as you take it. And you are allowed to be scared and terrified of where it might take you.

You have permission to know that even though you aren’t okay, you’re going to be okay.

Anything you want to add? Share it in the comments. <3