“On a scale of 1-10, how is your heart?” My soul sister asked.
Ten being the worst, meaning seek immediate care.
“It’s at a 5 or 6 when I’m home…”
I tell her that I’m at an 8 when facing reality and driving back and forth to take care of things hours away.
I thought that was pretty good, all things considered. Two deaths in my family in two months, that’s a lot to deal with and it would be completely fine if I were at a level ten and sucking my thumb in the floor. (Hopefully not in public though.)
My friend would have been fine with that and handled me with extra care, because that’s what friends do. They put up with your messy instead of making you feel bad about it.
A ten would be legitimate when my life is pretty much on hold because I’m grieving…
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