As long as I keep moving and keep my mind running after solutions to unrelated problems, I can almost hold it together. The moment I have nothing else demanding my attention, though, I fall to pieces. Bedtime is the worst. The gap between turning off the computer and picking up the book on the nightstand, that time filled with the mindless transition from activity to rest, is fraught with pain. Another day has passed, the wound is still open, and there's less hope of resolution than there was the day before. Let sleep come quickly, to outrun the headache that follows so much crying.