[This post was typed out on my phone in a coffee shop, so apologies for any mistakes. My thumbs aren’t the most nimble writing tools.]
I don’t know what it was about yesterday but I woke up with that feeling it was going to be a bad day. The day itself, of course, was just fine. It was me that was the problem. I was having a Down Day. Still, I managed to hold it in until I got home, plastering that grinning facade over a soul growing colder by the second. Then I got home. Thankfully, my wife wasn’t in which meant that I could unleash with full fury. And unleash I did.
It took a minute or two. I sat staring at my hands for a while, knowing that it would come and embracing it rather than fighting it as I’ve slowly learnt to do.
The tears we’re hot, the sobs cramped my throat and made it impossible to breathe, I cried loud and I cried hard. It seemed to last forever and no time at all. But eventually it was over and I went to wash my face. I felt a little better, although the rest of the night I was utterly exhausted. Just my luck that I’ve been having a bout of insomnia so there’s been no real rest since then. My throat is raw this morning, a constant reminder of yesterday’s explosion, but I don’t feel bad about it anymore. It happened. I evidently needed it. And it’s done until next time. New day!
Thanks for reading.