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I usually can keep all my hurts in their respective compartments. “Work Hurt”, “Heartache”, “Organization Hurt”, “Friendship Hurt”… you get it. If I’m suffering from hurt from work… I tend to not take it out on my Sorors or my husband. If AKA did something to screw me over, I tend to not take it out on my co-workers… and so fort. I’ve always been adept in isolating the hurt… dealing with it quietly and then carrying on as I always do with my other “compartments” as if nothing was amiss.

Even with the events of last year around this time… I managed to be alright with everything else in my life.

Today I visited my mom. And saw her laying there. Sick with fever. Lethargic. Slurring her words. She asked me how my day in school was today. A cold she’d been “fighting” (I use very loosley because I’m sure it was just ignored) has progressed and knocked her down. She hadn’t taken any of her meds. Case in point. She was NOT doing well. Out of NOWHERE.

And I felt all my little compartments begin to disintegrate. My chest got tight. I didn’t feel like talking to Earl. I didn’t care about Thanksgiving coming up. I shrugged off the work I needed to do tonight. Nothing mattered.

A friend of mine asked me to talk about it. And all I could muster out was…

“Dude… it’s my MOM.”



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