:(

The last day of the bar was horrible. I have been describing it as the worst day of my life. It was worse than actual torture.

Call me crazy, call it an exaggeration. I don’t care. I was tortured.

A lot happened during the last day of the bar. I could write it out and explain it but that would hurt my post traumatic test disorder I’m currently experiencing. Every person in my life has been instructed not to ask me any questions about the bar. So far just subtle whispers and 2nd hand comments creep through.

After the bar I spent hours crying and screaming. I wanted to break shit but Husband didn’t let me.

When my friends took the bar in July, many of them messaged me after they finished and told me they can’t stop crying. That the bar is over and there’s supposed to be this wave of relief but it’s not there, all that’s there is pain, hurt, exhaustion, confusion, and more pain. To be honest, I didn’t understand it. In my head it was “well, there’s nothing you can do now, so enjoy your freedom.”

.

.

.

I understand now.

Husband was expecting relief too, and the crying and screaming threw him off. He wanted to understand. He wanted me to explain it. But all I could say was “this was the worst day of my life.” I tried to explain that the bar broke me. It broke every piece of my body and I’m completely broken now.

My friends knew this would happen. They all went through it, but they went through it together. So they flew in right after the bar, and we spent the past 4 days binge drinking (shoutout to the best husband ever who stayed sober, continued to work, and drove us all over the place). They couldn’t keep up with my drinking, but that’s not new. Also, they’re not broken as I am. Time has started to put them together. Although, when I asked if them if they’d rather take the bar again or be tortured, they all instantly picked torture.

And to answer your burning question: I don’t get my results til May.

Let the torture continue.