Why Aren't You a Mindreader?

My phone has been blowing up this week.

Names I haven’t seen light up my screen in months — some not since before my own restructuring.

I’ve been letting every single one go to voicemail.

Fuck them.
That was the actual thought.

Where were you when it was me? When I got restructured — 28 years of “we’re a family” — you didn’t call.

Yes, I was fine. Of course, I handled it.

I just didn’t expect the silence from YOU.

I kept a running tally of who didn’t.
I rarely hold on to grudges.
I just never forget.

You are just — dead to me.

Why do I expect people to just know?

As I stewed in my insomnia stage that night, my brain went there — to Ed. When my late husband passed away from leukemia.

The casseroles came.
The “I’m so sorry for your loss” texts came.

And then they stopped.

I didn’t call anyone and say, “Hey, I can’t sit here letting the grief swallow me up silently.”

I didn’t say anything.

I expected you to read the silence.
I expected you to know.

Chris has told me a hundred times: You always think people know what you are thinking!

He's right. That’s just JT logic.

Oh crap. I do expect you to read my mind!

Why didn’t I reach out to anyone?

Spoke to a friend and she said, “Sometimes people don’t reach out because they don’t know what to say. They feel awkward…”

Okay… fair.
But they still have a fucking job…
And they felt awkward? Really?

Another said, “That’s a good question — why didn’t you say something?”

Oh my God. Not a circular conversation like the ones I have with AI.
If I knew the answer, would I be asking the question?

Then she laughed and said, “Fuck them. Why do you even care?”

Yeah. That was my first answer too.
A perfect deflection to not answer the question.

Then a coworker-turned-friend caught in the same whirlwind called.

We talked about her exit plan.
Who she reached out to.
Who she said goodbye to.

She just… told people.
Like it was normal.

What's the difference between need and needy?

To be honest? My brain is wired to think...

Asking means I’m not fine.
Saying means there’s a crack.
Calling means I need you.

It's the word "need."

I’ve watched people who can’t make a move without someone holding their hand — needy.

Somehow, reaching out to friends when I’m in need got lumped in with 'needy.'

And those who couldn’t read my mind?

They ended up on the do-not-call list.

It would make it so much easier if everyone could just be a mindreader.

Instead, going to hit send on my farewell email.
Update my LinkedIn.
Yeah, it’s been six months — whatever.

It’s my move.

Your Move?

Maybe you've got a list too.
Maybe it's not a career change.

Maybe it's a divorce nobody checked in on.
A medical diagnosis you handled alone.
A move across the country where the phone just... didn’t ring.

And maybe you've been keeping score of who didn’t show up — because you never asked!

Who’s on your do-not-call list?
Do they even know why?

Life Interrupted for a reason. Whatever your move is...
Make it unapologetically yours.

P.S. — If you’ve been texting and emailing me this week, you know who you are. You did the thing I couldn’t. Thank you. If this one hit close, tap “More like this” — it helps more people find the Table.

P.P.S. — If someone in your life is in their own Unscripted Middle — that stretch where the old script ran out, and nobody handed you a new one — and waiting on others to make the move, send this blog their way.