Okay so you know when you’re just… supposed to be good at everything? Like, you finally get to a certain point in your life, you’re in your 50s, the kids are grown (thank god), you’re supposed to have it all together, right? Supposed to be the rock for everyone else, your parents are getting old and they need you for EVERYTHING, and you just kinda – exist. And then something happens, something stupid, you know? Like, yesterday, I had this big presentation, a client thing, been working on it for WEEKS. And it just… went south. Like, not terrible, but definitely not great. And you can see it in their faces, the bosses, you know? That little flicker of "oops, maybe not our top performer anymore." And suddenly all the little things, like the car making that weird noise, or finding out your mom forgot to pay her electric bill AGAIN, it all just stacks up. And so you end up in the office bathroom, not even crying, just… staring at yourself in the mirror. Like, for five minutes, maybe seven, I dunno, I actually checked my watch it was 4:17. And you just feel this… this HUGE lump in your throat. And you can’t let it out. Because if you let it out, then what? What are people gonna think? That you’re soft? That you can’t handle it? After all these years, all the climbing, all the BS, to suddenly just… break. Nah. Can’t do it. So you just splash some cold water on your face, try to make your eyes look less… dead. And you go back out there. And you smile. And you pretend like everything is fine. You know? It’s just… exhausting. This whole charade. Like, I spent a whole hour after work, just sitting in my car in the parking lot, not even driving. Just listening to some dumb podcast about true crime. Because if I went home, then I’d have to actually *be* there, you know? Have to talk about dinner, or the leaky faucet, or something. And I just didn’t have it in me. Didn’t have one more ounce of “it” to give. And you wonder, how long can you keep doing that? Like, how many more times can you swallow that lump? Before you just… crack. Or something. I don’t know. Is that normal? To just feel so… empty sometimes? Even when everything is *supposed* to be good? Just… wondering.