That's right, I am wearing my yoga pants and two tank tops and my hair in cockeyed side knots at work. And I am taking the elevator for two floors up (and down!) while eating Doritos. Because my 55-year-old aunt has a brain tumor that is probably going to kill her in the most dehumanizing way inside of about 2 surgery-filled years, if she's lucky.

I'm letting it all hang out here because I subscribe to the Comfort In/Dump Out protocol of emotional relationships and am committed to having my shit together for my mom (my aunt is her baby sister) and my cousin (my aunt's only child, who has two wee babes of her own, as well as a demanding job and a husband who's out of town for work a LOT) and, of course, my uncle, who's losing the love of his life, his wife of over 30 years.

So I don't really give a fuck if my coworkers judge my mismatched socks or my obsession with text messaging right now because I am nothing if not a goddamned rock for the people I love, who are having a way worse day than me.

Anyway. I guess this is gonna turn into a prayer request now.