"Hey, there's broken glass all over your bathroom floor!"
"I know."
"Can I clean it up for you?"
"No, I'll get it. Thanks."
It looked as if it had been there longer than just a day.
"Uh, how long has it been here?"
"Oh - I don't know...since last week or so."
We had just finished a lengthy in-depth conversation discussing the past 8 months, and as I looked down at the shattered glass I realized how too closely this symbolized her life at this time. It was broken, she was broken...and the pieces were left lying on the floor...
"Well, you should clean it up - you might cut yourself."
She smiled slightly..."Too late."
"What was it from?"
"A candle."
The metaphor was a depressing one: Her light had gone out...and what held it - had broken.
She was sitting on the couch, lifeless. "I think I had my first real anxiety attack last night. I mean, this summer was pretty stressful, and I certainly had my moments - but last night...I couldn't sleep and I couldn't breath. I couldn't breath - my heart kept beating faster and faster, throughout the entire night. I couldn't calm it. I tried. I held it, but that didn't help. I didn't sleep much."
I sat down next to her and looked into her melancholy eyes, "Hey, it's going to be okay. You're going to be okay. Some things in life break, they...shatter - and they aren't meant to be put back together, exactly as they were. But you can't just leave the pieces lying around forever. It's damaging. You need to clean them up."
"I'm tired. I'm tired of being tired, I'm tired of crying, I'm tired of me..." her voice trailed off.
"I know. It's so hard. It can be so hard. Come here." I pulled her in close. And for a while we just sat there, in silence. There wasn't anything that needed to be said.
"You'll make it. You will. Now, let's go clean up that broken glass, together."
"And then let's get something to eat - I'm starving."
I laughed, "Deal."
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