No, thank you.

The first time this happened to me... I was shocked and then so incredibly sad and filled with grief.
I never managed to get angry.
I just felt that he was crazy (which he was, literally) and I couldn't get angry at someone who wasn't in their right state of mind.
I wished nothing but the best for him.

Now, I am angry.
I have never been this infuriated before.
I am not angry that he has left me or broken another promise.
I'm angry that he has left his daughter.
I'm angry that he didn't exhaust every method to earn the right to get a divorce.
I'm angry that he is repeating the pattern of his parents when he is so angry at them for not taking care of him and putting him first.
I'm angry that he is a selfish man.
Who runs out on a six month old baby?

The reality is I have been so worried that I would never find someone like him again.
God, I hope I never do!


I am so done with all of this.
If this is who he is going to be.
If this is all he has to offer.
No, thank you.
I'm good.

Exhausting

Anna told me that I am "guarding."

In other words, I am constantly being viligant.
I am not letting myself relax or feel anything for fear of the weight of it crushing me.
So I stay up past exhaustion.
I make myself eat the bare minimum.
I am constantly keeping my mind going, so it can't relax and just feel things.
I dread the minutes or hours I have to be alone with no one to distract me.

My thoughts are consumed with this devastation but purely on an intellectual level. My heart and soul have checked out of the situation.

I can't afford to drown like I did before.
I have to stay upbeat and moving forward for Coraline.

I don't want this transition to be any harder on her than it already is.

But I feel like this tightly leashed control I have is fragile.
Like at any moment I will dissolve into tears and heartbreak.

Boston Creme

I can't even eat a Boston Creme Donut in peace.
It reminds me of when I was pregnant because that was the only donut I ever wanted.
And being pregnant reminds me of you.
She is your daughter.

I need to forget you.

Fly, blackbird.

This is the one blog I have that you don't know about. The one place I can open up and tell you all the things I can't tell you.

I love you.
I believe you when you tell me that you love me.

I know that you haven't been the same since Afghanistan and a part of your heart died there and that was the part where I lived.

I had hoped you would want to move forward because we have a beautiful daughter now.
I thought you would have fought for us.
But you are lost to me.
And have always been lost to her but I never knew it.

There was a part of me that was always scared that this day would come to pass. Now that it has I feel -- nothing.
I don't think I am capable of feeling anything.

I am so exhausted.
I keep a brave face on.
I won't let myself fall apart.
I keep telling myself that I have been here before.
I will be okay.
Coraline would be served better to be raised with a man who adores her mother than with a man who can't commit to us.

It doesn't change the fact that it hurts.

I think it hurts more than I realize.
Mostly, because I can't feel it.
I don't even feel numb.
I just don't feel anything about this.
Everything is tightly bottled and tucked deep inside.

I guard against those feelings by staying up past the point of exhaustion so that when I fall asleep it's nothing but oblivion.
I stay busy with my friends and family. Surrounding myself with them.
I am so exhausted I can't even pray.

But I am filing for divorce this week.
I know, I have to.
I can't do this to myself anymore.
I won't do this to Coraline.
And if you want to be free so badly then we can let you go.