I've been juggling it all like a motherfucker: medical crises, existential crises, physical limits pushed yet working like a machine, boss as fuck, getting everything done even when up at 3am texting my mom in the hospital and looking for houses and working on book idea and getting oil changes and attending workshops. It was a lot but I was HANDLING it.
Mom: Hey, here's all the stuff that's wrong with you.
Me: Cool, hey, can we talk about something else?
Mom: Not really.
Me: How about we talk about what's NOT wrong with me?
Mom: Naw, that's not really how I roll.
[Talking happens, venus orbits the sun...]
Mom: So? This was good.
Me [rising from pit of despair]: Are we done?
Mom: One more thing. How would you like to have a family intervention? I'll call your sister and cousin and we can go over this again.
Me: Um, no thanks, I'm good.
Mom: Wait, why do you have low self-esteem? Go cheer yourself up! You don't watch enough TV.
Me to friend: She thinks everything I do is wrong. My job is wrong, my house is wrong, I'm not married yet, I don't have kids, etc.If you've ever had a conversation with someone in an irrational state, there's one of two things you can do: try to make sense, or accept that no sense is ever going to happen.
Friend: Wait, what's wrong with your job?
Me: It's not down the street from her house.