Yesterday was like stepping into a different plane of existence. I don’t know why it didn’t hit me until Day 13, but that’s what happened. I barely had the energy to make the bed, let alone get dressed. It takes me awhile to respond to crisis. My way of coping is to knuckle down and get through it. I keep myself very busy. I cook. I clean. Neither of which interested me yesterday. I read. That wasn’t cutting it either. Writing, my go-to for restoration and my outlet for creative energy, had no appeal whatsoever.