It's very hard for me to write here about what's happening in my life. Some of it I have, but in very private ways. The details have no place in this public setting. I have the conflicting impulses of wanting to throw it all into the air and feeling very private about the situation. I think because it hits so close to the heart. The thought of divorce is very hard on me, and I'm not really happy about it of course. But I absolutely don't want a situation where people feel the need to take sides or trash talk about the other person involved to one of us. I'm too sad to handle that right now.
So I look at my journal and feel a little dishonest and wonder about my comfort levels. If nothing else this journal convinces me how much I do change over time. All these loves and lives and pieces of me.
I took this Saturday off because I had planned to do something for Alan's birthday. That's not happening now, and it's hard to carry this bereft feeling. I don't know what I'm going to do. I think about checking myself in a motel in a place far away, or driving, or trying to recklessly fill my head with some other activity. Nothing has clicked yet.
I don't know what I'm going to do, about anything really. I'm going day by day. It would be great if I could get past the part where I cry so damn much.
Work has been very hard this week. Not only because of my personal situation, but some of these calls have been rough, rough things. This morning I had someone yell and hang up on me, and I just sat there for a moment in stunned silence. I don't think they realized I was asking so many questions so I could find some way to help them. Now I'm just waiting for the clock to tick over so I can unplug myself and go home.
