It's dangerous to go alone.

It’s been a weird, weird year.

For the last eight months, I’ve had what most people would call the dream “rebound” after getting unexpectedly terminated — almost immediately snagging a secure job, a brilliant team, a paycheck that lands on time. By all accounts, I should be coasting.

And yet.

Some mornings, I still wake up with that ache — the one that whispers, What happened? The one that replays the moment I was suddenly removed from a job I loved. That wonders if I could’ve done something, anything, to stay. Full disclosure, I’m kind of feeling that way right now.

(Grief has a funny way of showing up at the office with you, even when your badge says “Director.”)