I lost it in the shower today.

Even before I woke up this morning, even after the zumba class I take three times a week I knew it was brewing inside of me.

It had been a while since my last good cry. I welcome when they come around. A simple reminder that I am human, I am not perfect, and dammit, sometimes you feel a lot better when you let it all out.

My husband is stationed in Virginia while our three young children and I live in northern California. We lived in Virginia for three years until we realized his retirement was a few years away and with the two children starting school soon, we thought it was a good time to put down roots and buy a house. The retirement house. You know, the house that we can decorate and paint to our heart’s content because we won’t ever have to move. Ever.  

So this is where we’d been living for three years until I got THE CALL on April 23rd but more about that later. Tonight’s post is about my unraveling.

So many thoughts went through my head as I tried to shampoo and condition and soap. Too many to recall. Far too many negative thoughts to have in such a small amount of time.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m hardly -idal at the very least. Not suicidal, not homicidal. I have battled depression for some time but have been able to mostly manage it with diet and exercise.

But today was not one of those days.

The kids and I recently flew back from Virginia Beach after spending a wonderful three weeks with my husband, eating at our favorite restaurants and reliving the past. Going to storytime at the Barnes & Noble over at Lynnhaven mall. Playing in the sand on the oceanfront and on the beach at Little Creek. Hanging out at the small but memory-filled food court over at JEBLC. Eating, eating, eating.

And then it was time to come home. I went back to work part-time, the older two went back to school. It took two weeks for it to hit me.

I am a single, working mother of three again and I miss my other half, my better half, terribly and so much that I’ve forgotten how to eat healthy. It’s pretty easy to drown my sorrows in frappuccinos and fried carbs but when you take it all away, as I have chosen to do so since the bathroom scale has been glaring at me for the past year, all you’re left with is nothing and everything.

No sugar to numb the loneliness, no carb rush to push past the sadness. The self-loathing is disgusting and disappointing. I was only able to catch myself when I thought, “Fifteen years ago I would not have recognized myself–” and other such nonsense that I would not unleash on my worst enemy.

Who have I become? Who is to blame? Why do I wonder and/or complain about the lifestyle I knew I was getting myself into ten years ago? Why isn’t whatever I’m doing right now ever enough? Why doesn’t my head have an emergency shut-off button?

Hopefully it will end now. Or at least keep the unraveling to a minimum.

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