Q sent me an amazing article from marie claire magazine -- it's a woman's story of splitting from her husband. It is excruciatingly real. The take-away for me, or one of them, and probably for Q too, is the quote from this woman's friend who said "I finally figured out that no one will be grading me at the end of all this." And the woman says she sat there, still "gunning for the A." Do we all do this? I do it. Do men? I swear I grade myself at every turn, in each of my roles (hmm, today? C for mothering, B+ for daughtering, D for friend-ing)....
She talks about men being different -- saying that smart women choose men who make their lives easier but all men choose women based on how those women make them feel. (I think, finally, I have chosen someone based on both those things.)
Anyway, it's a really sad article. I have a cold, empty spot of despair in me that is my failed marriage (my lost wedding rings are there, too) and it will be a part of me forever. And it contains all the sadness for my son who doesn't get to have his two parents at the same time and has to suffer the consequences of cold shoulders and his game boy being left at the other house. And the grief for my husband, who has lost so many precious life moments being hard and angry and hurt.
I was thinking about having a baby again this morning (it's on my mind a lot these days) and doing the usual, lightning-fast, litany of pros and cons in my mind. One thing on that list is this: Who do I think I am, wanting to bring another soul into this world, when I have a failed marriage and genetic predispositions toward things like alcoholism and anxiety, when my only son is in therapy, my parents need me to take care of them, and I just went back to work full-time? This is no time to be having a baby, right?
But I can't quite get there. When his dad and I leave the planet, assuming it's at least 15 or so years from now, my son's entire family will consist of a few cousins, and none of them even live in our state. He may have step siblings, but that would be it. Today, being an only child, divorced, with my dad so ill, I wish more than anything in the world that I just had a sister or brother. To help me help them, yes, but also just to cry with. Someone else whose heart would be aching in the same exact way.
Oh my, heavy heart this morning. Sheesh. It's okay. Just some healthy introspection. There's snow, and I'm going to Vermont with my love, and I'm going to jettison the guilt about leaving my parents and my son, and go have some fun.
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