Powerless

It's taken me all day to come to grips with myself.

Anger, bitterness, sadness, longing to live happily ever after, disgust... I've gone through them all about a dozen times each. I think I was trying to get myself to stick with one and get on with it, but now I'm convinced I'm going to have to just let them come and go until they have less and less meaning to me.

Patience is the biggest thing I'm lacking. I have no patience with all this emotion, and I have no patience with not knowing what is coming tomorrow.

Joe did offer to let me remain living in the house. I got a text message late morning saying he didn't want me to go through the pregnancy alone and that he wouldn't ask me to leave. Lots of responses game to mind, like "Oh, that's fucking big of you," "I wasn't planning on leaving anyway, asshole," "What on earth makes you think I'd want to stay here," and others. But ultimately I just typed back, "Thank you."

The truth is, if I want to take time off with the baby, I'll need to be here. I can't afford to otherwise. And as painful as it will be, I think it will become less painful and even bearable. Like it did throughout the evening.

Joe is lying on the couch sleeping with the baseball game on. I've been up and down doing a few things and finally stopped to do what I've wanted to for a few days: I just looked at him. I took a few minutes and just looked at him. He's just a man, lying there sleeping, and he'll wake up and go to bed and have to check the baseball score in the morning, like he always does, because he couldn't make it past the first couple of innings. Just a guy.

It was good to be near him and not get all anxious or mad or sappy or anything. There was nothing. He's just a guy. Balding on top, getting grayer, getting a little wider in the middle. Just a guy.

Just who the fuck gave him all that power over my emotions?

No more!

I hope.