Every time his dad drives away with him. I die. A little inside. When the car door shuts and I … Continue reading I die.
I wonder what my life would be like if I just did what he wanted. If I became the woman he was pushing me to be.
I wonder what life would like right now if I handled the cheating better. Sucked it up and forgave him blindly.
::Cue the fuzzy transition to the alternate universe:: Continue reading “Alternate Universe.”
Cliches annoy me. They roll too easy off the tongue and involve little thought. But they exist because they are mostly true.
They say that:
Home is where the heart is.
It’s like a stupid sign I would hang in the living room as a decoration. I had certainly bought into that idea without putting thought into. Like, yes my address where I live is also where my family lives. And until the divorce the idea of “Home” was simply a structure with walls and roof. A home was a thing you paint and fill. Something you pay for and something you can sell. Continue reading “Home.”
Life has been busy. Consuming. Good. Great. Bad. Better. My new standard roller coaster. Wayyyyyy better than the “Flat Line” of Shitty. Shittier. Wish I was Dead. Ok I’m Alive. I came to know that way of life far too well.
Little guy is in a big boy bed as of this week. I have to take apart the crib tonight. While I cry. My baby is a boy. I miss my baby. Realizing how much he is growing reminds me that I always saw myself as having two. Continue reading “Good. Great. Bad. Better.”
Lately I’ve been thinking.
Thoughts I’ve buried. Thoughts I’ve deemed too difficult to process.
And mix it with thoughts that counteract the trauma. The “Look how far I’ve come now” kind of thoughts.
I remember driving in the car. We dropped the boy off with mom and dad and making our way home to pack for a quick weekend trip to Chicago. It was my “Hail Mary” to save our marriage. Continue reading “My Worst Divorce Memory”
Lately. Far more often than I’d like. I get flashbacks of the fights.I get flashbacks of the good times too.
I stopped going to therapy. Not because I feel like I needed to, but because I had to. Continue reading “I Need A Good Day.”
Somedays are like a warm knife through butter.
Other days are like a dull hack saw through bone. Continue reading “Higher High Times. Lower low Times”