WAW emailed. The marriage counselor is still "on" for the 28th. Reading my mind, she says it won't be a repeat of Round 1 "because I brought it up" and that, if I'm nervous I don't need to be because "we're not going there to save the marriage."
So I'm not sure why we're going, but I'll go. At a minimum, I'm continuing to Roll My Way and I want to be able to say to the kids in the future that I did everything I could, crossed every "t" and dotted every "i" and etc.
Yes, there is such thing as "situational depression" also called Adjustment Disorder (DSM IV 309.x) but I don't think it's quite what you describe.
You wonder if being in an empty quiet house can make you feel down? Like a big emotional trigger? Hell yeah! Get out of there and go play.
I'm surprised you don't enjoy your time alone. Seems like it would be good time to write, run, and do SP-things.
"My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand." Thich Nhat Hanh
I hate it when they're not around, even though when they're around they make me mental. Maybe it's just the symbolism of the absence.
Yep. That's what it's like for us housewives, that is politically correctly called "domestically incarcerated survivors". At this point you only get it a day or two at a time. But one day they will go off to college and you face empty-nesting, which is the same thing but doesn't have an endpoint.
At a minimum, I'm continuing to Roll My Way and I want to be able to say to the kids in the future that I did everything I could, crossed every "t" and dotted every "i" and etc.
How will you know you meet that standard?
Cheers
ps Do you think the safe house has been compromised here?
M22,H45,W45 S21/18D12 Retain faith that you will prevail in the end, regardless of the difficulties and at the same time confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.
Didn't you change aliases early on because you thought you were being trailed? Well some of the impasse in your DBing efforts could be because she looked again and connected the dots. She could probably be having the same thoughts (me mind reading) about you that you harbor if she is reading along. It crossed my mind the other day and thought you might put some Mojo spin on it. Greek thinks it would be too hard to read along and not bring it up (Greek would know .) Just a hunch.
M22,H45,W45 S21/18D12 Retain faith that you will prevail in the end, regardless of the difficulties and at the same time confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.
Ahhhhh. Comprendo. Obviously I can't say for sure but I don't think so.
Darkly allowed a little light to shine out today. WAW actually initiated a rather pleasant e-xchange of 0s and 1s. At one point she made a kind of rueful confession of something or other - nothing that really bears on current events - but it was actually one of the most open and honest things she's said since D-Day, so I pointed that out (from my POV) and told her I appreciated that she felt she could be honest. And I flirted a wee bit and said it was things like that, along with the sweet text about the kids a couple weeks ago, that make me feel like Pacino in Three - just when I think I'm out, she sweetens up and reminds me of happier days, which makes those thoughts about how soft her skin was under my hands pull me back in - and then a little winky-face emoticon.
And then Darkly darkly. Flirting isn't supposed to be, after all, a suicide mission.
It has come to the attention of this office that cleaning your kids' room is ill-advised in the first few weeks after separation.
Going through toys and books and souvenirs of family trips and coming across photographs and ticket stubs and birthday cards -- all of which mean more to you than to your child, sap that you are -- is a guarantee of a flood of tears, which then have to be explained to the curious 6-year-old.
Gak. The things that remind me of The Other.....
For me, today, it was the stupidest thing. A board book. A board book I used to read my son, then read to my daughter. The stupidest f*cking thing. 12 cardboard pages and what, maybe 100 words? God save Ireland.
Because the thing tele-transported me right back to those heady first days after we'd had that first-born. Dozens of memories flashed in an instant. I recalled that, stuffed in a drawer in my office someplace are a bunch of Hi-8 videotapes of him as a baby that I was always going to convert to digits "soon" and which now, I suspect, I'd be petrified to look at.
After that, the deluge. A "kid of the week" poster from D's kindergarten. There we are, smiling into the camera, the four of us. A lie.
Here I am, living in a half-decorated house, broke, emptier than the beer cans in a frat house dumpster, just trying to tidy up, and attacked on all fronts by the Ghosts Of The Four Of Us Past.
.) Just a hunch.