Broken Glass: When Disappointment Hits

I broke every glass in my kitchen cabinet except the ones my sisters gave me for Christmas. They had my initial etched in 18k gold. Those were too precious. But all of the other ones and half of my plates were meaningless. And they somehow illustrated what my life meant at that moment.

I had just graduated undergrad. The journey was rough and thrilling at the same time. I should have been happy. But here I was in my kitchen contemplating slitting my wrist with the broken glass on the floor. What led to this outburst?

My LSAT scores had just posted online. These were the results after my second time taking it, and I had only improved one point. And even with that improvement, I would not even make the “maybe” pile in law school admissions discussions. And not only was I watching my dreams of being an attorney slip through my hands, but I was also still putting my heart back together after the man I thought I loved back then shattered it—just like the glass on my floor.

The longer I stood in the kitchen surrounded by broken glass, the stronger the urge to disappear became.

In that very moment, I felt so utterly useless. I felt like a failure. I felt like I didn’t belong. I felt like all of my hard work was pointless. How could I look my father in his eyes? What about my sisters? What about my friends? My Mentors? The self-imposed pressure was so strong that it busted glass.

What was the purpose of my life, now? I had become so attached to this dream that I had never stopped to think about what would happen if that was not the right dream for me.

I swept the glass up, and with it, my hopes and aspirations, and put it in the trash. I took my dog to the kennel for the night. I went to my favorite restaurant and ordered my favorite meal—tamales and queso. I went to Target across the street and bought some wine and Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I returned home, logged into my friend’s Netflix and set in the dark and began to binge watch Grey’s Anatomy.

I had suddenly become numb. It probably was the alcohol, but I literally could not feel anything but a deep sorrow.

 Not only had my dreams were shattered, but I still had not found a job after I had graduated in December, and I did not want to work retail.  I was a hollow shell, and it hurt.

To this day, the sound of breaking glass gives me some form of anxiety. I picture myself right back in that kitchen broken, shattered, and unsure of my future.

 Also, to this day I want to know who taught me that my worth is tied to my accomplishments? Why wasn’t I able to see everything I had already done? Instead, I was so focused on the thing(s) I did not achieve. I wanted to die. And after I stuffed my face with my favorite meal, I went to the bathroom and made myself throw it all up in guilt. I then grabbed some blankets and my pillow and curled up in the bathtub and went to sleep.

 I know that all of this sounds strange and it doesn’t fit the persona I had perfectly curated on social media.

    I honestly did not think my heart could break any more than it had the few weeks prior when I found out them an I then loved someone else—and I found out via Instagram. I wished that I could have gone back to that night because that pain felt twenty times better than the pain I felt as I curled up in that bathtub.

    I also do not know why I slept in the bathtub. I think it is because I associated with safety in times of storms. ( I guess all those tornado drills in Texas had paid off). But as I laid in the bathtub, I was thinking about my life.

    I was thinking how hard it would be to drown myself? Did I want to die? Or did I just want the pain to stop? How could I do one without the other because it just seemed that my whole life was one significant pain inducing series of events? What will people think of me I did not go to law school? What else can I do? Why am I such a failure? Why the complete hell did I let that asshole in my life? Why was she better than me? Why was I alive? Do I have a purpose?

    As you can see, I had a plethora of thoughts and questions.

I was unsure of what to do, but in this series I plan to discuss how I was able to slowly figure out how to cope with disappointment.