Beauty in the Breakdown

or for me, the fetal position

It was 3am on a Tuesday morning and I was curled in the fetal position on a bed that wasn’t my own (I was staying at a friend’s) craving my tempurpedic pillow, my dog, maybe some ice chips(?) – and for what felt like the monster stabbing my insides to get the eff out of my body. Aren’t slumber parties supposed to be fun?

As tears silently dripped throug…