Text by Kitchie Ohh, Copyright 2024
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Overwhelmed
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Hello, again. I’m not sure you even noticed, but last month’s blog contained no spillage from my brain onto your screen. I literally lost track of the days, they blurred together. I lost track of time, and, if I’m honest, myself. Did August even happen?
It wasn’t just last month. This entire year has been difficult to say the least. Sure it had it’s absolutely wonderful moments, but for someone like me who lives for balance, the scale seems to have, so far, been tipped entirely in the favor of the not so great. From starting the year with an emergency phone call about an injured parent to multiple stressful shifts in my professional life, an entirely unexpected death that I am still processing, and the sudden and steadily declining mental and physical state of my only living grandparent, the zillion other things resulting from these events, and so many additional things on top of it all with more to come, 2024 has steadily provided me with more things to worry and overthink about than I’ve ever experienced.
The worst part about all of it, for me, it twofold. First, knowing I have absolutely zero control over anything that has taken place. Being fully aware of that but unable to stop myself from the “what if” thoughts can be almost paralyzing at times. Second, I have a near-daily battle with myself that I shouldn’t be stressed or complaining about anything because other people have it so much worse than I do. While the second thought started as a way to psych myself OUT of oncoming downward emotional spirals, it has turned into yet another weapon to beat myself up with. Instead of shaking me out of the funk with thinking about all the good, it has been driving me deeper. I find myself feeling guilty for, well, feeling. Trust me, I realize how ridiculous that sounds.
Ok, maybe the issue is threefold. I have always found it incredibly difficult to express big emotions, or to ask for help when I’m stressed and overwhelmed. I would rather take everything on myself rather than show that I’m struggling. I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is fine. I got this. My go-to self-preservation act is to pull back into myself and away from everyone the second I don’t have to be “on” anymore; after work or family engagements, I’d say social activities too, but if I’m being honest here, they haven’t been a thing for me in ages. I realized, just recently, why that is: keeping up the appearance, the expectation that Kat’s great, she can handle anything, is absolutely exhausting. My brain feels like an ancient overheating desktop computer with dial-up internet and too many browser tabs open and I can’t tell which one is playing that annoying music. It’s no wonder I can’t recall a single day in the past few months that I was awake beyond 830pm, or that I got up as soon as my alarm went off to start the day instead of hitting snooze at least three times. I handle the bare minimum of what’s expected of me, with smile plastered on my face, and sometimes accomplishing that is even a stretch.
I think the most important thing to come from the chaos of this past year, is some solid reminders that despite all my best efforts to convince the world I’m perfectly fine, a handful of people still see through my bullshit. They catch me off guard with expressions of love and support, seeming to know exactly when I need them. They force me to accept help that I refused to ask for but desperately needed. They listen when I vent, or allow me to sit in absolute silence without expecting me to say a thing because I just need to not be alone with my thoughts. They don’t judge or tell me I shouldn’t feel what I’m feeling because others have it worse – they know I do enough of that to myself. Most importantly, they don’t make a big deal out of being there for me. It’s just between us, not a demonstration or unveiling of all I’ve been hiding from the world. They also accept my grumbled words of appreciation that come paired with variations of “you did’t have to” and “this is my mess, not yours” type statements and sarcastic, self-deprecating comments on my own mental and emotional state. Because they know, they really know, what I mean and how hard it would be for me to say any other way.
There’s a lot that I have to process and more to come, that’s just how life works. I’m alive. I’m grateful. I’m loved. I’m not exactly fine, but I will be.
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Kitchie Ohh is a full-time professional fundraiser who has worked with a number of health and human services nonprofits in the Philadelphia area over the last 20 years. She found her passion for modeling after a pinup-style photoshoot in 2013. Since then, she has worked with many talented photographers, stylists, hair and makeup artists in a variety of styles. She has been featured in- and on the covers of – multiple print and digital publications. Over the years, she has branched out from pinup studio modeling to serve as a figure model for live sketching, walked a runway, and was part of two campaigns for Philadelphia designer K. Vaughn.
In addition to her philanthropy-focused career, she has volunteered with art, historical, and community organizations, and even the events team of a local brewery for a while, pre-pandemic.
You’re just as likely to find her whipping up something deliciously plant-based in her kitchen or knitting a sweater as you are to find her on a photography set. Her motto is “be both.” The model and the homemaker, sultry and sweet, serious and silly. All the things, all at once. To access additional articles by Kitchie Ohh, link here: https://tonyward.com/kitchie-ohh-a-muse-in-grief/