Merrianne Couture
Nov 3 · 1 min read

I had a gmail fight.

It could not be helped. The trigger of my rage was a reprimand to those without power. Not me directly, except…yes. To those with no electricity. Perceived as ineptitude. Needing to be taught a lesson on how things ought to be done. How «we» do it. Deadlines. Unavailability. An impression of laziness or something that I could not say nothing to.

So it began and it began as it began with many a cc. Maybe some blind ones, too. I missed a TV show that manages my stress. It happened late in the day so management woke up to the thread. Me thinking I was defending. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I overreacted. I was told to step back very quietly by a wonderful person. I did not cry. It was a miracle.

The event that was the subject of the email and for which I and others were preemptively spanked was held and was fine. I am the one who spoke out. I could not seem to help myself. When I got home that night, I found a tiny message that wished me well. Then, I wept. The only time I wanted to go home.

Merrianne Couture

Written by

I fall down a lot and lose things, though find them eventually. All photos taken by me.

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