the breakdown.

Woof.

I’m one of those glass half-full types, usually garnished with realism, but nonetheless, I tend to see the positive side is most instances.

This week broke me a little. It broke my concentration, my relaxed state, my safety net, my belief in civility, etc. So while I combed my mind for what the next blog post should be about, I reminded myself that above all, I created this space to use (in this instance, vent) as an outlet for getting back into the practice of writing – beyond professionally – about topics that I find interesting and not necessarily what others may deem so.

Just four days ago, I was making the beach/hammock/tequila/nap shuffle in Playa del Carmen, Mexico without a care in the world. My man and I ditched the NY layers and headed south for a week with another couple where we lost touch of the news, work, texts, emails and focused on straight chill time. In 80 degree sunny weather. (Note: another post to recap this fabulous expedition coming soon.)

“There was just a bombing at the Boston Marathon!” exclaimed Tomas.. and just like that, we were back to real life.

As a 21st Century, semi tech-savvy gal in the media business, I habitually started trolling Twitter for what was going down – and I literally haven’t stopped since. Between trying to maintain my Mexican mantra and jumping back into the swing of work, I have been up to speed on every current event this week dumped on us. With today’s 3AM shootout in a suburban Boston neighborhood underway, Tweets coming in faster than I can read and my anxiety level in the red, it happened – I broke down in tears.

Shout-outs to my man and my pup for bringing me back up.

The Boston Bombing, the ricin mailings, the Texas explosion, the failed gun bill in the Senate, lost loved ones, the terror, the unknown, the misguided reporting, the assumptions, the standoffs – for me, it all boils down to one second. In a single second, your life – or your loved one’s life – can change for eternity. I know this is nothing new and it’s no mentality to live with, but I’m human and I can guarantee I’m not alone. In fact, this piece says it all.

Maybe part of it is because I live in New York City; I use mass transit every day with no security, just faith. In weeks like this one, It could be because we’ve conditioned ourselves to be prepared for the worst. Hell, in this instance, it’s straight fear. I’m guilty of always knowing where my exits are.

But as I begin to end this post, the fact that I can type, feel, be angry, take action and rely on loved ones makes me far more blessed than any of the countless victims in this week’s horrific, unfathomable tragedies. As I sit here with my snoring dog and my strategically-played guilty pleasures Pandora playlist, I’ve started to feel better knowing that this week will not fully determine the next and the next. I can slowly venture back to drinking from the half-full glass and focus on the good; like the heroic service men and women that exist to make moments like these feel slightly more bearable and who put humanity’s safety first.

My deepest thoughts, prayers and love to every single person and family who felt the effects of this past week.

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