The kids came home to a ton of homework, so we knocked off most of that, then ran to Target and out to dinner (Friendly's). Home again, baths and reading books. S is finishing the last of his HW while I settle D down for the night. I have a very full weekend planned, but am still a bit apprehesive about not having at least one of the kids home--they will both be away from right after school until Sun night; I'll have S for about an hour (if I leave work early), and D for about 1/2 hour. I know that the trick will be to stay busy, and that shouldn't be too hard.
***
I received a letter from a good, dear friend today that made my stomach drop out from under me. I have unintentionally hurt her, and am beside myself. She has been so supportive of me in this crisis, and now...Another relationship that I may have ruined...it seems that I have been doing that at every turn for the last few years.
I immediately called and then followed up with an email, but I am not sure if I can reassure her enough. How do I manage to keep doing this to the people who I hold so close to my heart? Between that and my constant obsession with my H leaving (I am afraid that my sadness may be getting old to some of my friends, and I am trying hard to get detached from the sitch not only for my own sanity, but before I drive even more people away), I am afraid of slowly isolating myself. There is also the issue that so many of my friends were mutual friends of H. I feel like a third wheel, akward and uncomfortable with my new single-mom identity. So many don't want to take sides, especially his sibs who I considered family...they have each called once or twice (with the exception of the youngest brother), but it isn't the same, I know. How is it that pain makes other people so uncomfortable? I remember when my mom was dying--no one knows what to say. It feels like they are afraid of catching something...
But this friend was different. She defended me, listened to me, validated my feelings and looked out for me. She has tried so hard to help in any way that she can. And I did something without thinking about the possible effects of my words...yet another instance of wishing that life had a do-over button.
