“Once you’re in a slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.” — Dr. Seuss

Digging a little rut and chilling in it. Being too lazy to pull yourself up happens. It’s a very human thing to do. We let one thing slide, make one bad choice, and suddenly feel the weight of shame take a big old seat in our laps, and God, don’t we feel responsible for just about everything. A day where things don’t flow, a day when you can’t seem to win. These days happen. They happen to you, to me, to the coolest person you know.

What has made my slumpy days hard is the way I’ve fought them. The way I feel resentful towards my feelings, the way I try to deny a crappy mood sliding in. Choosing to not cry when I want to. Acting like everything is great. These little moments tire us. And how can we unslump when we can’t even love ourselves enough to say “hey, I see today isn’t the best — let’s soak it in for a second, then move on?"

We beat ourselves up and turn a bad moment into a bad day. When I was little and pitching a fit over whatever momentary issue caused a young-me meltdown, my mom always had the same advice: “Okay, hug it. Embrace this anger and sadness tight — wallow in it. But let it go. 10 minutes of a pity party, that’s all you get.” And so I’d let myself cry, as hard as I needed to — and the crazy thing is, about two minutes later, the pain was gone. I didn’t need another 8 minutes of meltdown.

Just acknowledging that I needed the first two and giving myself the room to actually feel shitty did something. It equated to facing a fear or stepping into a dark room. I wasn’t under the power of my mood anymore, because I let it in. Now this advice is more essential to my happiness than ever.

We get older and are expected to have it together most of the time, to pay little attention to the things that make us sad, painting them over with a smile. We feel tired and heavy after a while, because old, unresolved emotions can be heavy to carry. LET THEM GO. Go give yourself 10 minutes to melt down. Cry, cry, cry. Write about it. Lay on the floor, put on sad music. Feel all the feelings you’ve buried, come to terms with some of the not-so-kind dialogues that have been going on in your head.

Because this heaviness will only be gone once we look it in the eye and let it know it isn’t bigger than us.

I did the oddest thing when I first got my heart broken — I came to no terms with it. I was great. Hell, I was AWESOME. I know most people need time to recover — but me? Nope! I’m going to go out and party and meet so many people and never take a second to feel the 10,000 pound weight sitting on my heart. Of course, this was bullshit. After a few nice months of avoiding my 10 minutes, shit comes to hit the fan, naturally.

I did need time. I did need to cry. I needed to feel alone and sad and defeated. And incidentally, 10 minutes before going out to a huge party in the midst of completing my hair and makeup, I caught my eye in the mirror and realized the jig was up. I wasn’t okay. I finally let the sadness creep (or should I say, flow) into my heart. I sat on the floor and cried for not 10, but 20 minutes. Stood up a little while later looking like a runaway bride, mascara sliding down my face, and realized I faced the monster.

I walked into a dark room, felt scared as all hell, and then, incidentally, stumbled upon the light switch. It was over. I didn’t have to run anymore, because I knew my heart was broken. When I knew my truth, I found a huge piece of myself that had gone missing: my authenticity. So when my friend called to see how I was and when I’d be there, I promptly let her know I was heartbroken and simply needed to sit here and be.

And guess what? She loved me anyway. She understood. She was able to give me the kind advice I needed, because I let my wounds be known.

I needed to just be. And that’s what I did. And this was the beginning of my 10 minutes of honesty, which I try to carry with me no matter where the wind blows me. If I’m great, I will let you know. If I’m feeling crappy about myself, I will let you know that too. Because it is the truth. And in this way, I lost all the weight of the dark room filled with imaginary monsters we are taught will certainly be waiting when we acknowledge our flawed side.

And if those in your life don’t love you the same for the days when you need those 10 minutes, well too bad for them. Maybe they are scared to check under their own beds for monsters. So let’s leave it at this:

“Those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.” — Also Dr. Seuss because he's got wonderful quotes