Last Thursday was not a good day.
Last Friday was not a good day.
Last Saturday and Sunday were not good days either.
I felt crap because I felt responsible. My definition of responsible is having to know where every file is, what every status of every file is and comprehend every correspondence that has gone on with any file.
To begin with, I barely knew where any file was. I was struggling to reach a standard I had preset for myself and ended up bursting into tears at work after a co-worker asked me a question because I felt like a complete loser. I ended up going home at 4am because I wanted to clear all my guilt (literally) away.
On Friday I had to do pro bono work and ended up going home at 2am. I was now emotionally and physically tired.
On Saturday and Sunday I turned on the tap far too easily for my liking despite my every intention not to do so. I believe the last time I cried so shamelessly in public I was standing in the rain in the dark. I was feeling thoroughly miserable and yet refused to admit that I had been defeated.
Somewhere between Sunday evening and Monday morning, a veil lifted and the mist faded away. Failure is the beginning of growth, not the beginning of the end.
I believe God is keeping me here for reasons I cannot and will not try to fathom.