I Can’t Even.

Fridays are for fun! My idea of fun this last Friday was driving an hour to meet with my accountant and do my taxes at 8:30 in the morning. Friday? More like Fri-yay! Am I right?

Since I decided to avoid the tolls, my GPS took me on the scenic route. It added maybe five or ten minutes to my drive. Driving through the woods, past vast farms, abs quaint neighborhoods more than made up for the extra minutes.

This drive also took me back to my old stomping grounds. My accountant was located about 20 to 25 minutes from where I grew up, so driving through those parts always brought up old memories.

Now, it had been a while since I drove down this way. Only one or two of my friends lived nearby. My mom lived near there but a few minutes north. I hadn’t even seen my accountant in person in over two years since the pandemic. On this day, I forgot what memories lie ahead on this route.

About fifteen minutes away from my destination, I passed by this awesome diner called the Shore Diner. It had been there as long as I’ve been alive – so over three decades. It was always a solid pace to grab a bite to eat and meet up with your crew. It also held a special place in my heart. It was the last place I took my dad out to eat for his birthday prior to his passing in 2020. Driving by there ignited those memories. I remembered how appreciative my dad was and him telling me how proud he was of me. It was a nice memory to have.

Not even ten minutes later, I neared my accountant’s office. Along that same road, without even realizing it, I passed by the funeral home where I had my dad’s service.

I boarded the roller coaster of emotions. I literally just went from one of fondest memories to one of my darkest in the matter of moments. I didn’t know how or what to feel. I normally would’ve handled this just fine, but I was already feeling emotionally beaten up from burnout. (See my last post for reference)

I got to my accountant and dealt with that annual mess. Thankfully, it was straightforward and didn’t require much of an emotional investment.

As I left, I sat in my car processing the rest of my day. I simply thought about my dad. Good and bad. Happy and painful. I missed him, and it was fucking with my head.

And I was supposed to go to work and see several clients that day in this emotional state. Fuck that.

I. Literally. Can’t. Even.

I just couldn’t. I would be doing my clients and myself a huge disservice that day. I needed to take care of myself, and that’s what I did.

I drove back to the Shore Diner and had breakfast in his honor.

– The Caring Counselor

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