There was an explosion of hatred and drama from my ex on the 5th. I’ve heard barely a word since save a few incomprehensible text messages.
I know well enough that he is on a bender…heroin or booze or both or who knows what.
At first I was relieved by the silence, his outbursts make my skin prickle. I am especially weary of the drama and my own place in this horrid cycle.
Now, with nary a call even to speak with the kids I am starting to wonder, worry and grow a bit irritated.
His mother tries to remind me that he is ill, depressed and this is just a cycle, brought on by seasonal change or stressful work situations. I honestly have to bite my tongue not to lash out at her, but it is, after all, her son, I get it, sort of.
I’m reflecting this morning, I think, I feel the same way sometimes, dear…helpless and hopeless, frightened and self loathing. I feel that way often, especially lately, everything is falling apart on the surface. Giving up isn’t an option, walking away from the kids isn’t an option.
I’ve tried very hard to put myself into a mindset of inner peace and being present, it’s a daily struggle to do so while my heart weighs heavy.
I am coming ‘round to realizations daily and that is certainly a joyous and powerful thing. I hesitate to put too much emphasis/fantasy power on what monetary stability would really bring though living in poverty is certainly a huge physical stress at the moment.
I felt absolutely obscene when J’s mother treated us all out for a nice dinner. It felt so wrong to be spending that much money on dinner and I felt so out of place among those that choose to use this luxury.
Not really sure where to go from here. 2 years ago