Hurt

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Of the 30 years and 11 months of my life, there has never been a worse day than June, 1, 2014.

It’s nothing medical. My husband and son are fine, too.

I’ve never truly understood how Elizabeth Bennet felt when Lydia ran away with Wickham. I suppose I always knew Mr. Darcy would save the day, so I never really thought through the consequences.

This is a poor example, down-right frivolous in comparison, but it’s all I have right now.

I never understood how one reckless person’s actions could affect his or her family so completely, shattering foundations, forcing them from their home, destroying lives. I’ve never truly felt ashamed to be linked to someone until now.

I’m generally a fighter or cheerleader for the underdog. I would try to find reasons why someone would do a Thing. Devil’s advocate kind of stuff. Ammunition for forgiveness. But I can find no redeeming motivation to this action, and the more I search the more I cry and throw-up and burn in anger.

I just…hurt.

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