We had some exciting new changes in our house this week. Taylor got her permit & a grown up bank account of her very own. She also is working as a hostess at my place, so I have had the privilege of seeing her many, many times even during the week that they weren't "mine".
...and it appears that, as of tonight, I will have them ALL of the time. Things broke bad at their dad's house - really bad. His reaction? He packed them up and brought them to my house. And dumped them with all of their belongings on my front lawn. My kids look like little refugees with their confused faces and tear stains down their cheeks.
Fortunately for us all, I was in town. And sober.
So here we all are - broken and sad and clinging to each other, mourning the way things used to be.
I know that they need me to be very strong and be their safe place to land (and I will be!), but honestly, I am a wreck. I tried very hard this week to play and keep my mind off of missing D - but there just isn't enough alcohol in the world to make the pain stop. And the only way that I can keep my anxiety level at a manageable state is to call him and hear his voice (I am still working in his office, so there is a reason most of the time), but I can't keep doing that forever.
I know that broken hearts heal and that we will both be just fine, but my body doesn't seem to understand that. And my brain is making up all sorts of fantastic stories about what he is doing now and who he is doing it with, blahblahblah. And boy am I creative. Ugh.
I think the most amazing thing is that I am a completely different person than I was one week and one day ago.
God, please make week 2 turn me into a princess again, and send some extra magic for my children.
They are also different people than they were a week ago...