The guests at this party probably thought I was the one with some sort of medical problem.
“Did he just go to the restroom again?” they must have been thinking. “Something must be wrong with him.”
Something was wrong with me. I had to keep going to the restroom, not to use the facilities, but to dry my eyes and compose myself every time I became overwhelmed – which seemed like every ten minutes. I’ve never left a party where I had to pull my sunglasses over my eyes in order to hide the fact that I was bawling crying as I pulled out of the parking lot. Let’s just say it was one of the most difficult celebrations I had ever been a part of, and it was a tough, tough day.