July 8, 2026

Never mind that I had eight other crises to loop about. Forget the fact that codependency was my middle name until I was 50. It was no wonder I was losing my mind, stuck in knee-deep mud, with no friend or support to help drag me out. There I was, yet again, mired in yet another relationship, where saying goodbye was either too difficult or simply not optional. Now there was dead air on my end, with no sense of how long I could extend this silence.

And that, my friends, is the typical yet highly disturbing part, of not only why relationships are so challenging for me to manage, but also the primary reasons why I limit my strongest connections to no more than the points required to draw a triangle. When it comes to avoiding unnecessary trauma and drama, limiting time and energy with those who deplete you is a survival tool I have yet to master. 

Then, add in people who demand from you, yet do not reciprocate in kind. It drains your battery so fast you’ll wonder where all your energy went. 

Today, these thoughts circled my head before I even finished my first cup of coffee. If my mental life were an octopus, I’d run out of tentacles to manage everything, and still feel like an inadequate human being with massive impostor syndrome. 

It is a very slow process for me to come to my senses, and realize it’s not my job to take care of everybody and their rainbow array of emotions. As the older of two kids, I felt the double burden of being forced to manage people’s emotions, and at the same time somehow uphold the expectation I could do the same for myself. I was very wrong, and I paid a heavy price for this way of thinking. 

As I write today, I have nine active crises on my shoulders, and nearly half of them involve people who either refuse or deny themselves the privilege of taking responsibility for their own behavior. I don’t write to absolve myself of true obligation, but to exercise restraint in managing others’ lives for them. With my new business, critical legal matters, household and family concerns at the fray, my bandwidth is maxed out. I stand in knee-deep trouble, with only myself to rely upon. Many days I wake up hoping the nightmare that occupies most of my life is over, only to see a new chapter has been written. 

I wish I had a clean, happy ending to the ongoing trials that surround my existence. Instead, all I have is a cup of coffee giving me reason to pause and reflect on my life. I feel I could spend a lifetime trying to understand the roles I’ve played and why I accepted them without question. With so much to manage and endure with so little time, I have no choice but to carry on, stopping at intervals to process, then hitting the play button again. 

How I would love to destroy everything in my path that I thought did not facilitate my growth. My idea of what I need does not always match what is on my plate. But sometimes, the best thing to do is just hang up the hat (or coat) you’re wearing, and put on the one you need for the moment, hoping and praying one day the only roles you have to play are the ones you choose and are not the result of an impending fire you are trying to put out. Leading a double life, living a life where you want one thing, and your family or society want another, is sometimes inevitable, but often a necessary bridge to finding the gold at the end of the rainbow. And once we zoom in on exactly what we want, we can dissect it, and make new discoveries about who we really are at the cellular level. 

In today’s fiction, “A Fine Specimen,” a lab scientist’s inner world comes alive after realizing her true nature, becoming evident within the confines of her laboratory and even under the microscope. 

I am glad to be back, and I hope you enjoy this story. ⚢