i just... i dont even know what to call this. a breakdown? a moment of clarity? it’s 2am and i’m sitting in my study, the one i designed myself, all sleek wood and glass, supposed to be my power room, my sanctuary, and i just feel… nothing. completely hollow. like a shell. and it’s been months now. since that day. since the car pulled away. i remember it so clearly. the morning sun, kinda hazy, hitting the dust motes in the air. we were all at the curb, me, my partner, the driver already stowing the last bag. and then just… that hug. the last one. with my youngest. they were so excited, so ready for this new thing, boarding school, you know? and i was supposed to be excited too. i told them i was. i smiled, i waved, i kept it together until the back of the car disappeared down the long driveway. and then i just went inside. my partner tried to… i dont know, talk? offer coffee? but i just shook my head. went straight to my office, the one in the house, not the fancy corporate one. sat down at my desk. and just stared at the screen. the inbox, usually overflowing, demanding, urgent. but it all looked… flat. meaningless. i thought it would pass. i really did. like a temporary blip. you know, empty nest syndrome, heard about it, read about it, figured it was a real thing but like, for *other* people. people who didnt have a career like mine. people who didnt have two other kids already out of the house, successfully launched, doing their own thing. i thought i was immune. but it didnt pass. it just… stayed. this dull ache. this absolute lack of interest in… everything. my work, which used to be my oxygen, my whole identity, now feels like a tedious chore. i go through the motions. i make the calls. i give the presentations. i hit the numbers. i still hit them, somehow. but there’s no joy. no drive. it’s just… noise. empty noise. the other day, we had a major deal close. huge. years in the making. everyone was celebrating, champagne, back-slapping, the whole thing. and i just… i felt nothing. i smiled, i nodded, i even made a witty remark, but inside i was just thinking about how much i wanted to be home, in bed, under the covers. how i wanted to just stop. just… stop doing all of it. i look at my calendar, all those meetings, those flights, those dinners. things i used to crave, used to orchestrate, used to live for. and now i just see a relentless, meaningless march. like a hamster wheel that i cant get off. and i dont even know *why* i’m on it anymore. the kids are set. the house is paid for. we have more than enough. what am i even doing this for? and then i feel this surge of guilt. because i *should* be happy. i *should* be proud. i built all of this. i worked my ass off for decades. and now that i have it, it feels like… a cage. a really beautiful, expensive cage, but a cage nonetheless. and i just want out. but i dont even know where ‘out’ is. or what it even means. it’s like i lost the map, and the compass, and the desire to even find them. it’s just… blank. i keep thinking about when my youngest called last week, just a quick check-in, excited about some new club they joined. and i felt that familiar pang, that little stab of… something. longing? regret? i dont know. but then i immediately pushed it down. because i cant be that person. the mopey parent. i have to be… me. the driven one. the successful one. the one who has it all together. but i dont. i really, really dont. and i dont know what to do about it. i just dont know.