The other day, I broke down.
And this wasn’t a cute, pouty, great hairstyle break down.
It was a snotty-nosed, hopeless, hair-stuck-in-mouth break down.
Before the disgusting climax point of breaking down, I attempted to calm myself and called my mom. She was my reasonable voice, the one to help me remember the good and relax. She answered with a “Hey! What’s up?” And I immediately started dry-heave crying. “Mom? I – heave – am – heave – having – a – heave – bad day…”