My dad had a mentor, long ago, who told him this:
“Michael, there will be four times in your life when you hit rock bottom. You will survive them all.
“But they come when you least expect them. And you have to be tough to get through.”
My dad has told me about his mentor’s words before, but he told me again yesterday, and this time I really knew. He was right.
The days since I parted ways with my former employer have been a whirlwind of up and down, a pinwheel of emotions. One moment, I’m fine, laughing so hard I’m crying with my boyfriend, another moment, I’m in tears of grief. Quick tears because I’m choosing to be brave (right, brave girls?), but they come nonetheless.
My kids have been rock stars. And I’ve been strong for them. “Don’t worry. This is grown-up stuff Mommy’s dealing with. It will all be fine.”
Yet, they know. They’re so intuitive. Each of the last couple days, my daughter has said, “Are you sad, Mom?”
I swallow the lump that brings to my throat and happily say, “No, I’m not! Are you, baby?”
She smiles and says no and then we go about our little lives.
I had lunch with two dear friends today, and we sort of just looked at each other a few times in silence as if to say, “Well, what now?”
None of us know.
But it sure helps to know we’re not alone. It sure helps to know there are people who love us, pulling for us. My challenge is to try to ignore the other stuff, even not pay attention, but that’s tough.
Still. It’s a nice thought.
Time to get the little man from school. Time to put some smiles on our faces.
Time to be brave.