I was okay. For 35 hours, I was okay.

Then my parents called tonight to see how my meeting this evening went (no good news), and how I was doing, and when we hung up they told me they loved me, and it was like my mind snapped in half.

Every mechanism, every defense I have — couldn’t reach any of it. And goddamn, if there’s anything I’m good at, it’s at least seeming like my shit is together.

When you know that what’s ahead of you is 100% difficult, grownup stuff, it really doesn’t make it any better to be paralyzed by sobbing your guts out like a little kid whose dog just died.

5 Comments on Fault lines.

  1. It totally sucks. And I am really sorry. Let me know if there is anything I can do. I know there really isn’t anything I can say that would make it any better, but just so you know we’re thinking about you. Hang in there, Mom .. the kids’ have got your back.

    Seriously, though, let’s talk.

    k

  2. I know there’s nothing I can say to fix things or make it all better with a wave of my magic wand or a snap of my fingers. All I’ll say is this: I’m here for you if there’s ANYTHING you need and I mean ANYTHING! I would hire you again in a second (if I had the budget) not because I want to help (because I do), but because I can’t think of a smarter or better person to have work for me.

    Your friend,

    Dan.

  3. Every now and then we totally need to break down, let it out and then take a deep breath to regain control. There is something so therapeutic to be sobbing and screaming “WHY!”

    You have some amazing friends around you and you also have a huge internet support group. Use all of us to get what you want this time around.

  4. Oh, Melle. I’m so sorry. But I also think that’s a pretty reasonable reaction to what lies ahead of you. It is scary and tough. So, FWIW, you still appear to me to have your shit together.

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