I Did Not Notice I Was Falling Apart (and I hate to admit it)

Lately, I have been disappointed in myself.

Not because of failure at work. Not because of visible collapse. From the outside, I appear functional. Productive. Composed. I complete my tasks. I maintain my routines. I perform well professionally.

But internally, something has been unstable for a long time.

I hesitated before writing this. Part of me questioned whether it should be public. Another part of me understood that silence has not been serving me well.

I have been under constant stress for months. I told myself it was manageable. I believed I was coping because I was still “doing everything as usual.”

Then I noticed something small.

My smartwatch needed to be tightened by one extra hole.

That was the first sign.

In the past few months, I have lost more than five kilograms. Since around 2016, my weight has never dropped this significantly. I have already been considered underweight, so the additional loss did not alarm me immediately. If I did not wear a watch, I might not have noticed at all.

That is what concerns me most: the decline was quiet.

I continued my skincare routine.
I stayed productive.
I kept track of deadlines.
I performed well at work.

Outward maintenance disguised inward deterioration.

The weight loss was only a symptom.

Underneath, there has been constant anxiety. A feeling of always running out of time. A belief that I am too slow. Disorganized. Not good enough.

Never good enough.

The internal voice repeats:
Keep pushing. Keep going. Add more. Do more.

I responded by increasing my workload. More responsibilities. More commitments. More pressure. Productivity became proof that I was still in control.

But control was an illusion.

At home, I shut down. Overstimulated. Irritable. In a “do not talk to me” state.

But of course, the anxiety remained.

What disturbs me most is where the pressure ended up.

Instead of confronting my stress directly, I redirected it toward the people closest to me. I lashed out in small ways; impatience, indifference, bitterness. I stopped listening. I acted as though I did not care.

The very people I value became the recipients of frustration they did not cause.

I did not fully understand why. My thoughts felt tangled. Everything mixed together. The confusion produced more disappointment in myself.

The more unstable I felt, the more detached I became.

Last weekend, I forced myself to pause.

I realized I have been avoiding reflection this year. I skipped it repeatedly. That may explain why I did not recognize the early signs of disappointment and resentment. Without reflection, accumulation goes unnoticed. At least for me.

This week, I am challenging myself to communicate differently.

When I feel something, be it irritation, discomfort, or disagreement, I will say it immediately without overcalculating the outcome.

After one week, I will reflect. I want to observe whether early expression makes me feel lighter in general.

I am unsure why I chose to publish this.

Perhaps I needed to document the moment. To create a record of honesty. This is my own space, and I want it to reflect reality, not only curated contents.

If I revisit this entry one day, I hope I can say:

“I am glad I outgrew that version of myself.”

Not because that version was weak, but because she did not yet know how to express herself properly.

If this period teaches me how to regulate instead of suppress, how to speak instead of store, then it will not have been wasted.

For now, this is where I am.