2:00–2:15: Cry. 2:16: “Hi everyone, thanks for joining!”
Now available as an Outlook template and scented candle.
I didn’t wake up planning to emotionally collapse.
But Google Calendar had other ideas.
Slotted perfectly between “sync with marketing”
and “try not to scream into a keyboard.”
At 1:59 p.m., I was whispering affirmations to a pillow like it owed me money.
By 2:16, I had mascara, a ring light, and a voice that said,
“Absolutely! Let’s table that for Q3.”
This isn’t multitasking.
It’s emotional contortionism.
You ever wipe tears during a screen share?
Try minimizing your breakdown so you can maximize your slides.
At one point, I had Slack on one screen,
a trauma flashback on the other,
and a Post-it that just said,
“Smile. They don’t know.”
Let’s talk mute button warfare.
I muted myself to sob—
then unmuted just in time to say,
“Great question, Dave.”
(I don’t even like Dave.)
Meanwhile, my inner child is in the Zoom waiting room
asking, “Is it safe to come out yet?”
And I’m like,
“No baby, we’re screen sharing now. Go cry in the corner of my cortex.”
They said, “You’re so composed!”
No. I’m caffeinated, dissociated,
and using AirPods as a spiritual tether.
You don’t know real resilience
until you’ve had a breakdown,
fixed your eyeliner,
and presented pie charts like they weren’t metaphors for your emotional fragmentation.
By 2:45, I was applauding someone else’s idea
while contemplating whether I still have a soul
or if it logged off with my last shred of stability.
But guess what?
I crushed it.
I broke down
and then built a f*cking presentation from the debris.
So no, I’m not thriving.
I’m technically functional with Zoom fatigue and an attitude.
But I deserve:
- An Emmy.
- A sabbatical.
- A raise in serotonin.
- And a “Cry Now, Reply Later” mug with my face on it.
Until then?
I’ll be here.
Scheduling resilience in 15-minute increments,
crying between “deliverables,”
and surviving on adrenaline and sarcasm.
Now who’s ready to circle back?
I Scheduled My Breakdown Between Zoom Calls
“Hi team!” I smiled. “I’m thrilled you’re here.”
Camera off—then cried sincere.
Between the decks and daily grind,
I lost my mind, but still on time.
My tears had slots, my rage had breaks,
My mental health took lunch with fakes.
But now? I cancel, ghost, and laugh—
And add “meltdown” to my planner’s path.
—The Funny Phoenix, double-booked and fully unhinged
