🌍 The Danger of a One-Sided Story: When I Fall Off Planet Earth

If you know me well, you know exactly what I mean when I say I’ve “fallen off planet earth.” For those who don’t—it’s not literal, of course. It’s just something I’ve become extremely good at over the years: shutting the world out when everything becomes too much.

I disappear. I stop replying to messages. I withdraw from people, from noise, from everything outside my own little bubble. I go inward and just try to get myself right again. It’s not because I don’t care or that I’ve stopped being interested in others—it’s just my way of coping. When emotions pile up and life gets messy, I tend to bottle it all up, screw the lid on tight, and shove it to the back of the shelf because “now’s not the time” to deal with it.

But the truth is—bottles crack. And when they do, all that mess comes spilling out. That’s usually when I find myself crashing and needing to disconnect completely.

This last round hit particularly hard. Our first IVF round didn’t work—and while I thought I had prepared myself, I unknowingly put an enormous amount of pressure on myself. Mix in some complex family estate issues we’ve been trying to sort out, and before I knew it, the emotional overload had set in. It’s like I was juggling fire and pretending it wasn’t burning my hands.

So, I did what I always do. I shut down. I hit the brakes hard. I fell off planet earth.

Sometimes I need a few days. Sometimes I need a week. I disappear, not because I want to hurt anyone or avoid life—but because I’ve got nothing left to give. I’m running on empty, and I need time to refill my own cup before I can show up for others.

The danger in all this is that from the outside, people only see one side of the story. They see the closed door, the unanswered message, the silence—and they assume it’s about them. That I don’t care. That I’m being rude or ignoring them. But that’s not the truth. I care deeply. I just can’t hold anyone else’s load when I’m barely carrying my own.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how we live in this fast lane world, where busy is worn like a badge of honour and slowing down almost feels like failing. But here’s the thing: we weren’t made to live in permanent overload. And yet we do it to ourselves, again and again. Why?

Why do we ignore the early signs? Why do we tell ourselves “later” when it comes to processing emotions? Why do we keep running until we crash?

For me, my body eventually makes the choice for me. It throws me into pause mode. It kicks me out of the fast lane. And honestly? As uncomfortable as it can be, I’m learning to listen to that instinct earlier. To stop in the moment. To turn off the radio, silence the distractions, and check in with myself before the bottle gets too full.

It’s not easy. But it’s necessary.

So, to anyone else who finds themselves falling off planet earth now and then—you’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re just trying to cope in a world that asks too much sometimes.

Let’s give each other a little grace. And let’s try—just a little—to live more present, more aware, and more in tune with our own limits.

Because the truth is, every story has more than one side. And sometimes, the part you don’t see is the one that matters most.