It was Sunday night...*sigh* I'm not sure what Sunday night looks like for most, but for me it feels like an weekly exercise in futility. By the time Sunday comes I realize that I have gotten no rest, that I'm just as tired as I was the week before, and that the next day will be Monday......and the wheel goes round and round.
I go to work, I keep my kids together, I study, I write....and I get no sleep. A good nights sleep has become something that eludes me. Just when I feel like I'm slipping into a really deep sleep, the alarm goes off.
Inside I know I'm holding on to something that I need to let go of....but I can't quite put my finger on it. The other day a really sweet person on Twitter asked me if I thought my "soon-to-be ex" would come back, or if I even wanted him to. I have asked myself these very same questions a thousand times...and I really have no answer.
I think, I'm afraid to admit out loud that I really don't want him to come back.....that would make me a bad person, a bad wife. I'm supposed to keeping the light burning in the window in the hopes that "sir stupid" will see the error of his ways and come home.
The not so funny thing is, if I think about it too long a get a knot in the pit of my stomach and feel nauseous! (I have really bad reactions to anxiety) That's when I have to remind my self to breathe...inhale, exhale....inhale, exhale.....I have to remind myself that I can only be in control of my own actions, that it's OK for me to love myself and to know that I deserve to be happy.....and that this is all just a part of the process.
"I willingly accept love and feel it to the depth of my being."
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