The measure of the man . . .

Went to happy hour with two of my co-workers this week and we had our stitch-and-bitch. And during the course of the conversation, I discovered they'd both been in the hospital for stress-related breakdowns at one time or another. And I thought to myself, "Y'know, maybe I'm not really a wimp for that whole last long stretch at the last workplace. Six counseling sessions, insomnia, depression, panic attacks, migraines . . . but apparently, at that point, most people fall down. I didn't."

Mind you, I kind of wish I had. It would probably have been better for me. I mentioned this observation to RH this week, and he said words to the effect of, "You're just now realizing this?" Uh, yeah . . . guess I'm a little slow on the uptake.

If I'm made of sterner stuff than some, it seems like there's something better I ought to be doing with it.