I Am Not Okay, and That’s Okay

Views from the Forum, my main study spot in Groningen.

This is not one of my usual upbeat blog posts. It might even be a bit depressing. I’m warning you now, so you have a chance to back out. If you’re looking for motivation or inspiration, you may not find it here… or maybe you will. Maybe my emotional instability and insecurities about my life will make you feel grateful for your own stability and security. Or maybe you’re going through something similar, and this might resonate. Who knows? Either way, this is your last chance to turn back before it gets grey.

Okay, you're strapped in now… so let’s get down to it.

Struggling with Vulnerability

I find it a bit ironic how I promote the importance of being vulnerable—how brave and beautiful it is—yet it tends to be so tough for me to put into practice myself. I know how relieving and cathartic it can be in one’s healing process and how crucial it is to deepening and evolving relationships. Yet, at the same time, it’s something I really struggle with. Being truly, deeply vulnerable with others makes me feel weak and burdensome. I know the opposite is true, but something buried within me (probably a learned coping mechanism from childhood) blocks me from opening up when I need it most. The most vulnerable I can be is in my writing—it’s where I allow my most uncensored thoughts to spill out (though I do get a chance to edit them before I hit ‘publish’).

But when it comes to being vulnerable with others, the voice inside tells me: You should figure this out on your own. This part of you cannot be seen by others. No one will understand me the way I need them to. And, the lies continue to ruminate inside my mind, forcing me to retreat into my cave of solitude until I can feel somewhat okay again. The darkness essentially takes over, paralyzing the brightness within me.

Typical attire for a windy / rainy / chilly cycling commute in the Netherlands.

Becoming Someone I Didn’t Recognize

For the past few years, I’ve considered myself to be a very smiley, playful, empathetic, and loving person—constantly supporting others and creating safe spaces where all feel welcome. But something shifted over the past few months and the light I felt for so many years slowly started slipping away.

I didn’t recognize myself anymore, and the adjectives that came to mind when describing myself weren’t joyful or bright but rather weak, sad, emotionally unstable, negative.

I also began to realize how much of my life had been dedicated to helping others, making sure the people I love (and even strangers) were okay. But if I’m the one who is supposed to be helping everyone else, then there comes a point where there is no space for me to receive the help I need. For so long, my self-worth hinged on the subconscious and limiting belief that I was only worthy of love if I was constantly putting others before myself; therefore, I found myself measuring my value by how useful I was to others.

I know how messed up that sounds, and even as I type these words, I know there’s a part of me that still believes it. I’m working on unlearning this. But damn, being vulnerable, like really vulnerable, is still so difficult for me at times. So, since I haven’t written a post in a while (due to my lack of inspiration, motivation, and honestly, feeling depressed), I thought it would be good for me to practice that vulnerability thing here.

How Did This Happen?

So what happened exactly? What caused these feelings to take over in the first place? I’m still trying to piece it all together, but I have some ideas. 

After officially moving abroad last August—an experience I had craved for so long—something inside me had short-circuited, opening up the flood gates to all of these intense emotions. All the personal growth and self-healing I had prided myself in accomplishing over the past five years seemed to vanish. Even though I had traveled to foreign places and experienced varying degrees of culture shocks before, I felt extremely out of my comfort zone. Even though I had made comparably large changes in my life before, this one felt completely different. Even though I love meeting new people, the new circumstances made it harder for me to connect with others. And, no shade to the Netherlands, but battling the wind and rain on a bike through one of their infamously cold, dark winters definitely didn’t help.

On top of the mental strain that this transition was creating, I was missing out on being there for the people I love back home. I felt immense guilt about not being around for some pretty big life events such as my cousin’s baby being born (she’s the cutest, smiliest little one) and my dad’s cancer surgery (he’s doing much better now). I was also grieving the life I had left behind—the yoga and coaching business I was just starting to build up before I left. And, of course, the classic comparison trap of seeing others’ lives and wondering if I had fallen behind.

Post cold plunge vibes at the height of winter in Groningen.

The Heaviness of It All

I know this may come off as dramatic, but I can honestly say that these past few months were some of the most mentally exhausting and emotionally unstable months of my entire life. I felt so overwhelmed and stressed that I even experienced an intense brain fog in January—something I had never felt before. For a full week, I genuinely feared my brain might not return to its normal state. I struggled to take in any information, barely managed to make it through exam period, and even now, I still feel remnants of it surfacing from time to time.

Some might call it burnout. Others might call it depression or a case of extreme exhaustion. I call it Madi’s Multiple Months of Madness (patent pending). Either way, it was way too much for me to handle on my own.

What I struggled with the most was the confusion of it all: I wanted to be in Europe. I wanted to do this master's program. So why did everything feel so overwhelming? I began to question everything. Did I make the wrong decision? Should I have stayed and grown my business instead of diving back into student debt? Why the hell weren’t my usual healthy coping strategies making me feel any better?

Though I have a strong intuition that I am exactly where I need to be right now, I still don’t have the answers to all of these questions. However, I have been able to take away a few lessons from this journey which I wanted to share here.

Key Takeaway Lessons

1. It’s Okay to Not Be Okay

For years, when I was faced with challenges, meditation, yoga, journaling, and therapy helped me get back to a more neutral or stable state. But the truth is, no amount of [insert wellness activity here] can eliminate the fact that sadness, loneliness, and uncertainty are part of the human experience. Trying to push these feelings away only makes them push back harder. Even though it is not ideal or preferred, it is okay to simply not be okay sometimes. 

2. Allow Yourself to Feel Your Feelings

This one sounds simple, but it’s harder than you think. When we feel anxious, we look for ways to feel more calm. When we feel sad, we try to force happiness. When we feel insecure, we try to act confident. Though suppressed feelings may stay hidden for some time, they don’t disappear—they continue to build up within you. And, if you hold them back for too long, they will eventually burst out uncontrollably. So, allow yourself to feel them. It’s not stupid or weak of you; it's a necessary part of processing them.

3. Let Go of What You Once Knew

Sometimes, everything you once relied on—your routines, support systems, and healthy coping strategies—stops working. This is absolutely terrifying. In some of the most challenging moments of life, the only thing that makes sense may be to let go of everything you once knew to be true. Though that may cause you to spiral a bit, it’s also a chance to see what truly belongs in your life. And, the light at the end of the tunnel is this: the things that are meant to stay, will find their way back to you. 

4. Learn to Ask for Help

Oof, this one is tough. For those of us who pride ourselves on independence, asking for help can feel impossible at times. But giving help and receiving help are two sides of the same coin. You can’t fully appreciate one without experiencing the other. Letting people in and being vulnerable, even when it’s scary or it makes you feel like a burden, is a necessary part of your healing process. So if you take anything away from this blog post thus far, please let it be this: learn to ask for help when you need it.

The Light is Coming Back In

At times, I wish I could just shut my brain off. I wish I could say, Damn, I’ve done enough already. Why do I need to do more? But instead of avoiding these feelings or pushing them away altogether, I’m learning to sit with them.

I won’t pretend I’m out of the storm yet because these are things I’m still working through. Even in the past couple of months, life has thrown me more unexpected challenges—a fractured nose, multiple allergic reactions (after years without having any), and some bruises to my heart. It feels like the universe has been testing me over and over. But somehow, underneath it all, I can feel the light coming back in. I’m starting to see a few rainbows amidst the storm clouds.

Finally returning to surfing in Gran Canaria, after 1.5 years without it. <3

Maybe I needed this season of life to bring these feelings to the surface. Maybe without it, I would have stayed blissfully ignorant. And while living in pure bliss sounds very appealing right now, I don’t want it if it requires ignorance. Even though so much feels uncertain, I need to remind myself that feelings like this are temporary. And, every time I’ve felt a sense of heaviness or darkness take over in the past, I’ve always found my way back to light. It just takes time. 

Maybe you’ve felt this way at one point in your life. Maybe you feel similar things now. Or, maybe this is totally unrelatable and you’re merely intrigued that someone can overthink as much as I do (please don’t remind me haha). Either way, if you’ve read this far, I appreciate you. And, if you’re a friend or family member wondering why I’ve been distant lately, I know it's cliche to say, but it’s not you—it’s me. I’m just working through some things right now.