I’m waiting. waiting. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it will. Please don’t let it be with the kids. I have a horrible fear creeping up on me. Therapeutically, I know it is absolutely related to my life experiences. In this moment, I am off the roller-coaster ride. And I still have my sea legs, so being on land – rooted to the soil is a bit unnerving.

And it is just not possible that this is it. The stormin’ isn’t over. Really, we’re in the lull before it gets hard again. And for most folks, that’s the way love goes. For me, it is never that easy. Even when the dramarama is not my own – it comes to me as it did a few short weeks ago. But I have moments of solitude and clarity. Moments when the recipe card tells it to me just like it should be and the dinin’ is divine.

Right now I’ve just decided to sit in the experience. To let is wash over me and though it is manur-esque in nature I’ve decided to let things lie. Even as I am single parenting it in an obvious way right now – I had been singlehandedlyparenting all this time. I had grown used to fits of frustration and stark aloneness in the struggling/joying of mamaness. My uxorial connection to Bigshot never really jelled. I was commited, but really the committal was mine alone. After 10 years of marriage, I have a shiney piece of bling that represents frustration and monetary stoploss, rather than the circlular/cyclical devotion to this other. Disheartened comes to mind when reflecting upon the goldandshineyjewel. It is an awfully sad state of affairs to be connected to the hardhearted.

And he is workin’ his program like an addict to the horrorshow. It sounds much worse than it is. Bigshot is not a junkie/alcoholic/abuser. He is just stonecold. He has spent so many years hardening his heart from incoming, that to crack the weightbearing load is like breaking down the world. And I am so connected to the emotive world that I am feeling the burn of sledgehammer friction sparking off of our lives. I can’t think of a person who suggests I should uphold my end of the bargain. However, my end of this deal was really a lifelong affair. That’s what it means to me. So even though it is better that Bigshot is taking care of himself elsewhere, when I get glimpes of the man I knew, the person I love; it is genuinely hard to walk away. And yet I am reminded that sometimes it is better to love from afar. I know that is true and in my deepest self I just don’t think it is honest. I don’t think I could do that.

And really only time will tell… will I get a harvest bloom with a bumpercrop o’ what I need? Or will this all be a bust, a barren wasteland flooded with heartache and mispent care? Indeed, only time will tell.

a bitchin feminista mama at the intersection of political quagmire and real life.

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