This morning a man committed suicide by jumping off the Fremont Bridge.

Friday a friend told me that her company just experienced layoffs; some of the people let go were people who had worked there 20 years.

A dear friend of mine has been battling brain cancer and was doing very well until the latest MRI – a mere two weeks ago – showed the tumor was back and currently the size of a golf ball.

I came into work today, where we are still understaffed, and I made a self-deprecating remark to my boss, we laughed, and then I launched into the piles of work that need to get done. I’m exhausted from not getting any sleep (no exaggeration – I had zero hours of sleep last night) and I’m admittedly not in the best frame of mind.

Today I am feeling undervalued, tired, lethargic, and guilty about it. I’m not battling cancer, I haven’t been laid off, and I know this feeling will pass, which I’m quite sure the man jumping off the Fremont Bridge did not know.

I’m watching the clock and am desperate to go home. There are plenty of leftovers in the fridge to make for an easy night, and I have no plans other than reclining with a comforter, my puppies, and a book.