This past Saturday, I was out shooting photos with a friend of mine. We were headed to the next location and when I arrived, I typed a text saying that I was there and just looking for parking. As soon as I pulled into the parking spot my friend called me, he’d been in an accident.

In my full-time work, we were asked to do a bit of a research project. How many student members from a particular year were still actively working in music. These former students might have the ability to become full-on members. As I went down the list, I noticed some of the names were students I remember being a part of the program. I’ve met a lot of students after being with the company coming up on ten years. I remember their devotion and passion for the industry. The big goals and dreams they had of making it big. What I realized after completing the project was that most of them had quit.

There was a day this past week where I noticed on every call there was a pause after someone asked, “how are you?” It’s been a loaded question since the beginning of time. One that people ask and don’t really wait for the answer. It’s programmed into us that it’s the courteous way to jump into a conversation. But with the year we’ve been having, it seems that maybe all of us are taking a beat after being asked to evaluate how we’re actually doing. And I’ll speak for myself here but on most days, I am not okay.

The words resound loudly in my head as I think about how many other people see my husband and have the same reaction but just don’t say it out loud. The irony in all of it is that my uncle, the one who blurted it out, suffers from a brain injury caused by angry white men in the south that bashed him in the head with a baseball bat many years before I was born.