People ask me how I’m doing, and I lie. I tell them I’m managing because the truth might break me. Most days, it’s all I can do just to hold back the tears. I’m so overwhelmed by my emotions that I might crack at any given moment. I’m afraid of losing my mind. I’m afraid of screaming or crying or throwing something against a wall. I’m bitchy. I’m sensitive. I’m depressed. I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to acknowledge it because I’m afraid the tears might never stop once they start. I’m afraid to show weakness, because I’ve always been the one to keep it together. I’m afraid I’ve ruined my life. I’ve given up my condo to live with my Mother and I worry about regret. I worry about losing my job because I can’t think clearly enough to appropriately deal with difficult people or situations. Every day it is a struggle to walk into the office. I have to force a smile and pretend like I care about what so-and-so did last night. I feel incompetent, worthless, unappreciated. I can’t have a conversation with my boss without nearly crying. I haven’t even had time to grieve for my father because I’m too caught up in estate responsibilities and work stress. I’m a mess. My whole life is a mess. Three months ago the only thing I could truly complain about was my complicated love life and now I thrive on it because it’s the only thing normal and recognizable. I need a break. I need to submerge myself in a good book, I need to lie on a beach. I need to hug my best friend for the first time in a year and I need to cry with her. I need to laugh and to love and to catch up on sleep. I need to slow down, I need to breathe again, and I need time to miss my Dad. I’m just not sure how to get from here to there.