This isn’t a Britney, Oops I did it again, moment.

This is a Total Taurus moment of {shamelessly} admitting I did it — that thing no one ever says adults aren’t supposed to do but it’s an unspoken understanding — I cried today.

I know no one says adult’s can’t or shouldn’t cry, and this might just be me and what I was around growing up, but it always seemed very unnatural and extremely uncomfortable to even know an adult was crying.

Oh, the bliss of naiveté! I just assumed, without even a hint of question, that adults — all of them — had their shit together. That they never were sad or had hard times. They were adults! Doing fun adult things! I couldn’t wait for that to be me.

And here I am, feeling way too old to cry. Over my mama leaving. Over being scared. Over stressing about dumb shit that I know is dumb and pointless to stress about, but I’m doing it anyway.

It’s just one of those days. Where I almost wish there was something more solid I had to go on to give me some street cred on the crying front.

Mama-sadness will just have to suffice.

People. I’m telling you. I find it more and more challenging each time she goes. To even allow her to go. It makes me feel like I should be so much more together, so much more on it.

It kinda makes me feel like the F word. Not the one I so lovingly use, either. The one I never even so much as dare whisper outloud. Kinda like He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Failure.

Silly, isn’t it. The honesty of my emotions bring me to that brief conclusion. That’s why I’m writing it and sharing. If I can articulate it, I can see it for what it is, honor how I’m feeling, and move away from it.

I suppose we can’t constantly be together now, can we? Otherwise, how would we be able to appreciate our moments of what “together” is?

I’m already feeling better, now that I told you. The crying helped, too. Sometimes, it just feels good to let all that out.