I've Always Depended on the Kindness of Strangers

I am having a depressing week.

First of all, I miss My Quinny (who is in Wisconsin with Nonny and Banana Girl). The Daily Reports From Nonnyville tell a tale of much fun and cheerfulness. She is actually getting to enjoy the lifestyle of an only child for the first time in her wee life and she appears to be diggin' it. She gets to pick what cartoon to watch. She gets to play with her toys endlessly without anyone (anyone named Gabe) taking it away or telling her how to do it right. She is having pajama parties with Nonny and eating frosted mini wheats in bed and reading books all day long on demand. Sigh. I am both jealous (of all her fun) and guilty (that I have been a bit of a crap Mama this summer). But I'm glad she is having such a great week.

My week has been extra sucky because I am dealing with the death of our business. I've got to tell you people; being your own boss and owning your own business can be super great and liberating and all, but when it goes ker-ploof, it really, really sucks. A lot. We have owned other businesses and been able to move on when the time comes and sell them for an appropriate profit. It is a stressful time, but it all works out in the end. This time, due to one partner's illness, and a lack of immediate cash flow, that day where the happy sale occurs never came. So I am cleaning up my personal possessions and other financial and legal matters every day and every day when I turn off the light and lock the front door to the office I feel like crying.

This venture, this practice, is like another child for me. We have run several successful practices in the past but this was the best one. This was the one where we were doing things our way and using all the great information and mistakes from past practices to get it just right. But, ultimately, we didn't have enough time to get through the brutal first year of the small business money gap, which plagues so many small business owners. Even though I (and Hubby and our Partner) have worked so diligently on this project for the past 12 months that it has hurt at times, it is simply not enough. Even though I practiced up until two days before Peevers was born and came back two days after, it is not enough. Even though I have done nothing but plot and scheme and brainstorm for the past two months ten ways to pull off a miracle, the miracle never came.

And so I am forced to unceremoniously disband my staff and pass on my patient files to a trusted friend in the area and explain what has happened over and over and over again to patients and legal people and what not.

It is like explaining how your dog has died recently, over and over again. People are generally kind and understanding but the constant repetition of the sad situation really becomes nearly unbearable after a while. Plus, nobody wants you to tell them how badly it really hurts and how you are this close to losing your faith in the universe and the universal truths of goodness and truth and beauty and all that. I mean, the good guys are supposed to prevail in the end, right? The good guys, the ones who are telling the truth and battling the man and fighting the system and the correcting the mis-education of our entire society, are supposed to eventually find peace and comfort. Not get their hats handed back to them by the man and then told to go away already because bankers don't care about truth and beauty.

And so I continue. Continue to get my child off to kindergarten, make 15 critical phone calls, nurse the baby, pack some more boxes, run a few errands, stop by the office to finish more financial hell spreadsheet stuff for the accountant, answer umpteen urgent phone calls, and explain over and over how my dream has come to a screeching halt.

Please be kind. It's all I have left to which to cling.