It’s only 1 in the afternoon. Lab is about to start, which will keep me busy for the next eight hours, and then there’s the bike ride home at 9ish, shower, dinner, then sleep.

That’s the rest of my day.

So since today has already been rough, and I don’t have much else to add to it since it’s essentially over I figured I would write now, while I have time, energy, and the space to work through the thoughts in my head.

I had an email this morning from my mom. I read it as I was eating my breakfast.

My mom has had a stroke.

My brain shut off after reading that.

The email continued on saying that she had an MRI yesterday and that she was talking with doctors to get more information. Basically that things were fine, she was being taken care of, and not to worry.

I finished my breakfast. I even tried swtitching the bike rack from Frank’s bike to Zane’s so I could attach the crate to it and not have to carry my packback. No luck with that though. Two of the four screws wouldn’t come loose. So I’m going to have Trevor or Zane take a look at them later. I’m worried that the screws will strip if I keep messing with them. Maybe they have some manly voodoo that will make the screws obey their will or something.

Anyway. I tried to hold it together.

There was yoga at 9:30 so I left around 9 for that. I had my backpack ready to go, put some music on and headed out. I stopped at school to drop off my main bag. The door to the break room is still messed up, but security was there and unlocked the door for me and left it unlocked so other people could get in. I also put a stapler down as a door stop as an extra safety measure.

I biked from school to the gym, but was a little late as far as getting there before the start of the class. I peeked inside to see if there was room, but the fitness studio was packed, and in all honesty I didn’t want to be around people anymore. I was having a hard time holding it together.

I sat at one of the tables outside the locker room, my back to the pool. I texted Zane to let him know. Since my mom is a really big part of my life I felt like he had a right to know. I figured at some point I would have to tell Clavan as well.

I got a reply from Zane saying he was sorry. I haven’t responded to him. I don’t know what to say. I sat and stared at my phone for a while, silent tears mixing with the sweat from my bike ride.

I tried to call my mom since I had a lot of time on my hands. I mean, yeah I want to make sure she’s ok, but it was more that I tried calling her yesterday to chat and she was busy, so I was trying to see if we could chat today.

She didn’t answer so I sent a text saying that it wasn’t anything important or me trying to check up on her. Just some free time on my part and I thought I would try to call.

I tried going upstairs and rowing for a bit. Originally I wanted to run, but I wasn’t wearing the right type of top for that. Not enough strap down power… The woes of being a chick…

Since I have the meeting with Terry tomorrow I didn’t really want to mess with the machines yet, so really I was left trying to figure out what to do, if anything. I remembered about the row machine and figured that would get me a little bit of upper body. It was also something I could do alone and away from people.

I didn’t last very long. More because it was hard not to cry. I was moving on to the angry phase. Angry at life. Angry that things can’t just go right. There has to be something to mess up the peace and tranquility. The pond surface can never be still and calm.

Why? Why my mom? Why my life? Why? Just give me an answer to that one question that I can understand and that can make it justifiable and I might be ok. But the row machine didn’t have any answers for me and that just made me angrier.

I ended up getting back on my bike and going the little bit of distance to a Walgreens to get a lock for my locker, something that was on my to-do list. Productivity. I got something accomplished. Everything else could go burn in a fire.

Came back to the gym, tested the lock out, then showered. I headed back to school after that.

I sent Clavan a message asking if I could meet with him before the start of lab, but after 20 minutes I didn’t have a reply from him. I tried calling, but again, no answer. So I walked over to where I knew lecture was held. I figured a few students had stayed behind to talk with him and that’s why he wasn’t replying to me.

Which was case. Go me.

After the students left I told Clavan what had happened, mildly breaking down as I said the words out loud for the first time. I don’t know. There’s something about physically speaking words that gives them power. That makes the information real. Typing out a text or saying it in your head isn’t the same.

Admitting to another person this dark, horrible thing makes it not a nightmare you can wake up from. Saying it out loud makes you realize it’s not a bad dream. It’s real. It’s already happened. It’s a fact. Undeniable, unbending, uncaring.

My name is Jennifer. I have blue eyes. I have brown hair. My mom had a stroke.

That escalated quickly…

And now I’m left to figure out how this fact, this information, fits into my world even though all of my being, every fiber of my existence, wants to reject it.

It’s not fair. This isn’t right. This happens to other people, other moms. My mom has to be ok. My mom has to be here. She can’t be sick, or hurt. She’s my mom. I love her so she has to be ok.

When I read her email earlier this morning I had replied with “I love you. I’m here if you need me. <3”

But what I was really thinking, what I really wanted to write, was a plea.

“I love you. Please don’t leave me. I need you in my life still. I don’t know how I can function without you. You’re my rock. You’re my best friend. You’re the one who was there when dad left. You’re the one who taught me to drive. You’re the one who took me to band competitions and was there for my graduations, both high school and college. I need you still. You can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

Clavan was super understanding. He gave me a hug. He offered to let me go home, but really, what would I do there? Sit. Stew. Waste time. At least if I stayed at work I wouldn’t be screwing David over in the process. I would be in a place that would, hopefully, help me keep it together.

Clavan offered to take me to a café for a tea, which ended up turning into getting lunch instead as we were walking out to his car. He even paid, which he knew I would have an issue with. I not so jokingly joked about getting him back, and how Christmas was just around the corner.

My boss is amazing.

He said if I needed to go home to be with my mom or miss work for any reason that he was ok with that. He would make the time work out. He said to let him know if there was anything he could do to help make this situation easier for me. I really don’t think there is. I think a lot of it is fear on my part. Logically I really don’t think it’s as bad as it seems.

It’s scary though. It makes me realize how frail some things are.

Right now I’m talking off and on with my younger bother while I’m in lab. I asked how he was doing and his reply was, “As good as can be expected.” We’re both already scheming behind mom’s back. Because that’s what kids do. We both would literally do anything for our mom.

I had a second email from mom not long ago saying she knew I had questions and wanted to know a good time to try to call. I have break at 4pm, so we’re going to try to catch each other then.

But that’s it. That’s my day so far. It hasn’t even been 12 hours yet and it already feels like eternity.