Today is a weepy day. A day full of watery eyes threatening to spill over and creased brows and a pit carted around in my stomach. Full of body aches and a distinct lack of regard for my feelings from the person I was supposed to have in my corner forever.
Heavy. Exhaustive. Not quite cathartic because I can’t actually spend the day wracked with sobs and sleeping off the resulting endorphin crash.
I have to be present and coparent civilly, and make a family dinner and put kids to bed and give them measured and considered attention according to their individual needs. While not taking the acidic barbs personally. While overlooking the rude things that are bandied about and meant to bruise my tender heart — to tear at my exposed underbelly — when I have no protection. No buffer. No armour that I didn’t craft carefully for myself from papier mâché — layer by layer by layer.
