My boyfriend of two and half years broke up with me via PDF so I wrote this essay

They say bad things come in threes, but what about fours? Fives? Sixes? **bleep**, sometime this month, I stopped counting and simply braced for impact. It’s been a whirlwind of a month, to say the least. 

I’m no longer the pessimistic, sad sack-of-**bleep** that I was in my youth. I get up, I smile, I laugh. I face life with a lightness in my heart and a twinkle in my eye; because if I didn’t, the absurdity of it all would swallow me whole.

It’s been… a lot. A slow cumulation of one small **bleep** thing after another. So let me face it all with a sense of humour and a keyboard, I don’t have time to wallow.

Let me set the scene, it all started about a month ago.

As I walked downstairs one unassuming morning, the first thing I noticed was water pooling up in the corner of my kitchen. **bleep**. Then, the dank smell of damp rot and hidden mold. Outside was an absolute downpour and my kitchen resembled a kid’s wading pool. I spent the day mopping up bucket after bucket of water. As I pulled up each floor board, I discovered more and more mold. 

With incredible good luck I managed to find a new place to move into almost immediately – a gorgeous, warm and inviting home. So, I began to pack my life into cardboard boxes. At first glance, this doesn’t seem like a hard task, but it felt like a Sisyphean sentence. The labour of sorting through my ex’s, my kids and my own accumulated ADHD hoard of “well, maybe we could use this someday.” Every time I tackled one corner, the mess seemed to multiply as if it would bury me inside. I had no choice but to take on this feat by myself, no prince would come rescue me out of this mess.

Between hauling boxes and mopping up the water that continued flowing into my house, my breaks were dedicated to tackling the stack of student essays with a looming deadline. My brain, moving at a chaotic speed, thought about single parenting responsibilities, grading rubrics and relocation logistics. Unfortunately, it appears that my time-consuming minor crisis proved too much for my boyfriend to handle.