I sat at my desk with my head in my hands, my head spinning with racing thoughts. “I don’t know if I can do this again,” was the prominent one surfacing over and over.
Part of my daily routine was psyching myself up to get dressed and face my workday. I would pace in my office, dread each task and struggle to believe it was possible to make it to 4:30 p.m.
when I could finally breathe again. I’ve been working since the age of 16, if you don’t count the babysitting jobs I’d had since the age of 12.
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