Crashing, Receding, Unexpected

Last night I published, to this web log, a lighthearted piece about the notes that my mom used to leave inside of my lunch box, but what I should have published, had I been brave enough, is this:

Today I snapped, completely and absolutely. First I yelled at a colleague who didn't deserve it and then I cried on the train ride home and then Bevan and I got into a fight at the Patxi's in Hayes Valley, a fight that I instigated and perpetuated, and now he's asleep in another room and I'm lying in our bed alone trying to figure out how to deal with whatever comes next. Nights have not been kind to me as of late and days have brought about dizzy spells and headaches and sometimes it takes everything I've got just to lift my feet up off the pavement and there are way too many moments when I wish I could just disappear for a while, to nowhere.

Earlier this week I received a note from someone who, historically, hasn't liked me very much and although the aforementioned note surprised me, in it were words about grief that gave me comfort.

...grief is like waves; crashing, receding, unexpected.