Thinking about my yelled blasphemous invective made me think about those job-placement crying fits in the men’s room, and now I rather suspect they are versions of the same thing: the safety valve on a pressure cooker. The difference is that while the outburst ill serves workplace, the crumple ill serves my mental health. Most people would look at the outbursts and consider them to be explosions — or, rather, meltdowns — but in truth they actually help avoid meltdowns. I’ve been through meltdowns and they don’t look merely like yelling, “Jesus mother fucking Christ!” and then moving on to the next thing. When my environment wouldn’t accept an outburst, the pressure is relieved instead through a crumple. I’m not holding my breath for suggestions on workplaces where outbursts would be acceptable, but I certainly can’t see myself being able to attempt a return to work only to face more crumpling.