Eleven Days
Eleven days ago, when first I posted about being sad, my parents called and asked whether I needed to see a doctor. No, I said. I’m fine. I’m just sad. My mum pointed out that she’d feel a whole lot better if I went to a doctor. No, I’m really fine. It will pass, and I will cope, I said. Then I removed my parents from the Facebook list I used to talk about stuff I’d only mention around close friends, so they wouldn’t worry when I posted there about the occasional crying jag or frustration with the world. I figured that was easier. Things did not pass. I did not start coping better. # Yesterday, I burst into tears at work when our office manager tried to have a conversation about taking leave and managing my stress levels. I’d been trying to point out that work was just one of many things stressing me out, and I just…couldn’t. By nine-thirty in the morning, I
