Keep going. That's all. One hour, and then another.

Right before her thesis defense Friday night, the grad student texted to make sure I was going to be okay. Nebraska had not told EVERYONE, just her and the other attractive women (and by extension EVERYONE) that he had dumped me. That day. The day when what ACTUALLY happened, was happening THEN in realtime, was my chair calling me to tell me that my department had been closed down. So I had to do a job I don't have, a thesis defense for a grad program I'm not employed by, with Priest and Nebraska and like 10-12 people, all looking at me like I'm a "toxic asset". And I put myself through it for 2 humiliating hours, because it was not her fault. 

I texted her back: "of course I'm not okay, nobody is! lol"

Make a joke to disarm the harm. It didn't disarm it for me, though. That man will never put a hand on me again unless I am forced into prostitution. I'm recording that here and now so that if he ever appears on this blog again, I won't have to spell that out.

"I could hide here and discover what I am supposed to become. How do I use my gifts, now that I am closed for business? What is this body for?" ~The Antidote, Karen Russell 

waiting on the plumber to open the hide-out 

No song. I have passed into the hopeless depression stage of grief.