Of course it hurts", she grumbled, tipping my head further back. "Life sucks. Get over it

In those first few hours officially single again the world seems like it expands, suddenly bigger and more vast now that you have to get through it alone.

I'd been through so much, falling short again and again, and only recently had found a place where who I was, right now, was enough.

It's always very pure, that last moment before an ugly, unsettling truth hits someone. The most stark of before-and-afters.

Now, now," my father said. "Let's just get the bags." This was typical. My father, the lone male in our estrogen-heavy household, had always dealt with any kind of emotional situation or conflict by doing something concrete and specific. Discussion of cramps and heavy flow at the breakfast table? He was up and out the door to change oil on one of our cars. Coming home in tears for reasons you just didn't want to discuss? He'd go make you a grilled cheese, which he'd probably end up eating. Family crisis brewing in a public place? Bags. Get the bags.

It's okay to accept things from people. It doesn't make you weak or helpless.

Oh darling, don't be bitter. It's the first instinct of the weak.