I finally understand the beauty that follows an intense breakdown!
Let me explain. When I say 'breakdowns', we all know what those are—well, at least the rough outline of what they feel and look like. Thoughts swarming your mind like starved vultures, ripping away at the seal of defenses you plastered over all those "minor" concerns or frustrations, and that single hint of sensitivity you allowed yourself to experience earlier is all it takes to crumble completely. You know, tears rolling down your face, nose watering and reddening, eyes burning, hands shaking violently, knees pulled to your chest, body curled into a ball on the floor—the whole works. (just as a side note: everyone breaks down differently, and my own description is not the sole example of a breakdown in general.)
I'm no stranger to them. In fact, I need them once in while, and I'm a little thankful when it happens. There have even been moments when I've scoured for triggers, either from songs or past memories, just to intentionally push me to tears. To push myself over the edge and free fall, letting my emotions take control and drain me of all that stress and exhaustion from bottling it up. Granted, I've buried that gratitude more often than not as I grow older, and my post breakdown clarity either ranges from "finally, I feel lighter now" to "goddamn it, I should've just sucked it up". But that's not the point of this post, otherwise we'd both be stuck here for hours to the point of insanity.
...okay, maybe we're already there, but that's beside the point.
The topic in discussion today is that magical post breakdown beauty, which is something I've read and heard too much. Apparently, following an intense sobbing session, several people—solely online in my own experience, I don't have friends outside of the internet—have described that they looked more beautiful when they checked their appearance in the mirror. Now, to be fair, they're all already absolutely stunning prior to the breakdown, and that's what confused me for months. Whenever I had a breakdown, my nose would grow bigger and redder, and my eyebags felt more defined as the tears rolled down while my cheeks puffed up. Basically, I looked like a goddamn clown. So how were these lovely individuals feeling beautiful after crying their hearts out?
Well, I finally answered my own question myself after having a breakdown (quick, act surprised). It was the usual; a swarm of negative thoughts, a moment of weakness I allowed to slip, I curled up on the floor and cried my heart out, blah blah. After I finished, I stood up and walked to the bathroom, but I paused when I saw myself in the mirror.
And that's when I actually saw it. That post breakdown beauty? It's real.
My eyes still glistened with more unshed tears that I simply was too tired to push out, and it looked like a glossy sheen over my eyeballs as I peered at myself closer in the mirror. For the first time, my nose didn't expand and redden to resemble Rudolph's lost twin, and I think I can chalk that up to only having eaten a little throughout the entire day (little rice for breakfast, small sandwich for lunch, skipped dinner). My cheeks were still warm, but they didn't puff up, and it's the latter that I've always despised. My eyelashes, still a little damp from earlier, now looked more defined as the tear droplets held thinner lashes together to make them appear more thicker.
If this effect—the way that the tears held my lashes together and made them appear thicker and more plentiful—is somehow turned into a mascara brand, I'd be the first customer.
Wait, where was I going with this? Oh right: post breakdown beauty. Well, I'm impressed and here to say I've finally experienced it.
Now, is there some sort of self bias at play here? Obviously, and that much is to be expected. After all, beauty is subjective to the eye of the beholder, and we certainly don't share the same eyes. Was it actual beauty I saw reflected back at me in the mirror, or was it actually a reflection of my growing self acceptance of my appearance? I've gotten better at admiring myself and not bashing myself for certain physical traits like height, but I've similarly gotten worse and become more self-critical and focus on even more minute details. Like, for example, there are still certain facial features like my nose that I despise and can't manipulate—at least, not without surgery or makeup, which is why I'm learning the latter.
Perhaps the most demanding question that arose was this: is this beauty genuinely 'newfound', or has it always stared back at me in that same mirror? Was I too cruel to myself whenever I looked at myself, easily pointing out reasons of disgust that served no justice to the mere concept of 'beauty'?
I suppose either way, the post beauty of a breakdown is ultimately subjective.
It really isn't that interesting, yet it captivates my curiosity anyway.
(just in case anyone is concerned: I'm totally okay.)
Remember to eat. Sleep well. Take care. Slay, be gay. 🤍
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um finished reading The Chalice of The Gods.
so, finally, I can do this: *removes filtered tags.
anyway, spoilers down below!
thoughts and reviews:
first off, I cracked up at how casually the team greeted Ganymede??
Like guys. That is a literal god. It doesn’t matter if he’s the god of cups or cupbearers, he’s still a god.
anyway, the implication that Zeus was into guys, mainly over here,
made me search up: is Ganymede a lover of Zeus?
yes, ladies and gentlemen. yes he is.
and the Athena and Percy eye-convo? Absolutely top notch.
I’m talking abt this:
and then this:
ugh, I love it.
and Percy quoting Shakespeare (or SparkNotes, in his words) to Annabeth is something I didn’t know I needed.
I cried. they’ve come so far.
and the Jason page? Cried there too.
JASOOOOOOOOOOON [continues to bawl her eyes out]
anyway, that’s all I have to say. 100/10, Rick you slayed as always. go read the book
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