Dear you,
You're going to be fine. I know you don't believe that right now because you're in the middle of it and the middle of things always feels permanent. It isn't.
Please stop refreshing that email. It's not going to change. Whatever it says when you finally stop checking is what it was always going to say, and the refreshing is just borrowing anxiety from a future that hasn't happened yet.
The thing you're turning over and over in your head — the thing you've been turning over for three days now — is not going to resolve itself through more thinking. You've already thought it from every angle. You know this. You're not thinking anymore, you're just spinning.
Here's what I know about you: you are better at handling things when they actually happen than you are at anticipating them. Every time. The real version of the difficult thing is always more manageable than the imagined version, because the real version is finite and the imagined version is not.
Go do something with your hands. Make something, clean something, cook something. Come back to the problem later, or don't. It will still be there if you need it.
You're going to be fine.
Love, you (later)