I've been having a rough week. There's been a big convergence of stuff going on, mostly financial, and mostly really serious. On top of that, I'm battling a minor health issue that's dragging me down, and I'm feeling more than a bit overwhelmed by it all. I desperately need to crawl into bed and have a really good cry.
I can't, though.
I'm a single Mom, and I have primary physical custody of my kids. They don't have a visit with their Dad lined up till next week, and I have to hold it in till then.
Suffice it to say, I'm not doing a great job. I thought I was, but I forgot one really important thing: my kids know me almost as well as I know them.
David doesn't know exactly how to process my mood change but he recognizes it, definitely. I'm quieter than usual, and he doesn't like it. He keeps asking me if I'm happy with him. I throw my arms around him and reassure him that yes, I'm very, very happy with him. Mommy's just having a bad day. I'm sorry, honey. He hugs me and tells me he will give me a better day, and he does. For awhile, anyway.
Anna gets broody and finally I have to sit her down and really talk to her, because I can't stand the thought of her worrying over whatever she's cooked up in her head as an explanation for the dark cloud hovering over me. This isn't her fault. Hell, it isn't even my fault. It just is.
And she held my hand and reassured me that while it just is, she is just here and she loves me.
Once again, I wonder what I've done so incredibly right with my life as to deserve the likes of them. They make everything better, or at least close enough to better to get me through, on the hope that someday, it'll all be completely better because I will make it be so. For them. It has to be.
And so on I will go, putting one foot in front of the other until I walk out from under the clouds and back into the sunshine.
In the meantime, though. I could still really use that cry. Know what I mean?