One year ago I was sitting here celebrating your 9 month milestone. Significantly more important than a 21 month marker to be sure. I wrote about it as the day that officially moved me into the zone of being apart from you longer than I was with you. Since that day, that physical separation has gotten greater and greater – obviously. That’s how time works.
Now, I’m sitting in the same place, but with a different situation. Brayden sits next to me, making all of his little guy noises, clapping with joy over the celery in his hands. And me, utterly confused about how I could spend the last few weeks the way I have.
It’s been a hard few weeks. Actually, the depth of the challenge of the past couple weeks I don’t think I can really explain. But I have been out of sorts. Not quite myself. On the constant verge of tears. So quick to anger. Shockingly impatient (even for me). Totally unable to shake the consistent shitty feeling following me around.
A year ago, I’d have blamed my situation. Missing you. Afraid for the little life growing inside of me. End of the school-year burn-out.
But now. I don’t know. I feel like crap and can’t seem to pinpoint the source.
So, I blew off our plans for the day, packed a picnic lunch, and came here. A place I’ve been able to count on to feel some calm. And even with Brayden climbing all over me, still celery in hand, I’m feeling bits and pieces of that calm I’ve been clamouring for over the past two weeks. I know these 30 minutes won’t fix anything. But maybe it’s a start.
I’m glad I made the time to visit you today.
Thank you for hearing me out.