My son and I spent several hours playing outside today, which was good for us both. I feel like the world’s worst mother for how distracted and despondent I’ve been lately. I’m generally a person who loves to laugh, who loves to see the humor and absurdities in life. SInce I fell, plummeted, crashed, had my still beating heart ripped violently from my chest, I have barely managed a smile, let alone an honest burst of laughter or joy. I know it is affecting my son. How could it not?
I manage bursts of anger at him, the him who broke my heart, the him who promised me things he had no right to promise, the him who dared me to believe, waited until I did and then left me standing here bewildered and alone, but so far I’ve been unable to maintain them for very long. Again, perhaps it is a time thing, or perhaps it’s just that I’m not an angry woman in general, I don’t know. The anger I do manage to work up is fleeting. It’s not enough to sustain me.
From where I am sitting, curled up on the sofa, I can see into the room I use for my art studio. The piece I was making for him is still there. I have no idea what to do with it right now, so there it sits. It just makes me sad. I keep hoping the urge to paint something will hit me, and I’ll be inspired and strong enough to go in there and paint over it. Someday it will, I suppose. Not today, though.
I feel very wistful about what could have been. I wish this had all been different, ended differently, NOT ended at all, no lies, no deception, only the love I thought we had. I still miss him. I don’t WANT to miss him, to miss someone with no respect for, well, I don’t know if it’s completely fair to say no respect for women in general, but at least no respect for two women in particular. But I did truly love him. So I do. I miss him. It’ll pass eventually.