Today was one of those days that got exponentially worse as it went on, culminating in actually breaking down leaving happy hour. No hello, no goodbye, no smiles, no contact – just a dead zone. How much of it was my own wall, how much wasn’t? Hard to say…I texted something snarky. Then I got home and realized that I could either pull the same cancel at the last minute stunt tomorrow, or actually call tonight and explain that I was willing to postpone, but that during the meeting time specified a friend’s mother was being buried, and I felt I should go to that.
I also explained that I felt like the vibe was go away, not wanting to speak to me, and that I would just assume no more working on thesis, no watching the Super Bowl with them, etc, until I was contacted. And I admitted that it hurt. A lot.
I’m going to bed. I’m afraid of how much more worse it’ll get if I don’t.
Of course, I went and emailed a nice, level-headed explanation, apology, and so on. Because someone had to be smart enough to point out me being part of the problem.
I suppose staying in bed and listening to Hurt on repeat would be bad, but oh so funny in one of those black humour ways…
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