Saturday was just the day. It hit, and it hit hard. I mean, I've felt it coming on for a week or so, you know, the sleepless nights, the raging mood swings, the not giving a crap about anything around me. Yeah, those are the usual suspects when it comes to heralding a mental breakdown.
So Saturday, I knew it was going to blow, so I headed off to the library, because really, is there a better place to vent anger and frustration and tears than in a silent room filled with looky-loos? I probably could have chosen a better place, but I obviously wasn't in my right mind. So I stayed until it closed. Then I had to find somewhere else to go.
I went and saw my mom. She looks the same. She hasn't changed at all. And as I sat in the cold grass sobbing at her headstone, the thought came to me that her death was the easiest part of this turn my life has taken. My ever insightful brother said last night that if someone had told him that, he would have punched them in the teeth (but he wouldn't really, he's too nice. And just gay enough that it would have come out more like a bitch slap than a punch. Love you, bro).
And then I drove. And drove. And just kept driving. Because I didn't really have anywhere I wanted to go, and I didn't really want to deal with anyone. I ended up at Barnes and Noble, again, poor choice, but I love books, what can I say? I wandered and pored over various self-help books, sex books, business start up books, and ultimately Law School admission requirement books. I figured if anyone saw me crying over a law book, they would just assume it was tears of boredom.
But then I got a text from Sean. He'd been worried about me. He asked if he could come and get me. And honestly folks, I was in no condition to be on the road. It was that bad. My mind was not right.
I was so thankful for him at that moment. He came and got me, we had some dinner, and we chatted about all the things that were swimming through my crazy head. I cried at dinner, too. But we talked, and it felt good. He didn't judge me, or try to fix me, he just let me be crazy, then he brought me home, tucked me in bed, and let me sleep it off until later the next morning. That is love, right there.
Part of my struggle has been my upcoming talk for this Sunday. I have been asked to speak on humility. I'll be honest, the wounds are still a little fresh, and it brings tears to my eyes to even think about what I'll talk about. What do people want to hear? How my mom died, I completely lost it and wanted to end it all, lost my house, and lost a job, and worked all these years only to be starting over? I don't want pity, but talk about being humbled. I'm sure it will come to me, what I'm supposed to say, but for now, I'm just hoping round two is it, and round three is nonexistent.