One foot in front of the other

Yesterday was a tough day.

In addition to the horrors seen in the media (which hit WAY too close to home), I had to exchange email with Bryan about move out dates.  He keeps wanting to push the date back: for me, it's a rock solid date, but he has suggested date after date after date, later and later dates.  This puts me in the uncomfortable position of having to reject him over, and over, and over again.

Just to be clear: I don't think he wants to be with me.  He's not asking for love, romance, or even companionship.  I just think that he can't bear the idea of moving out.  I don't blame him for not wanting to move away from our daughter; in his shoes, I don't know how I'd do it.  But I think it's more than that... I think it's inertia.  I think it's that he likes the illusion that living in "our" house allows him that things aren't that different than they used to be.

On days when he is "on" with Katherine, he still gets a lot of help.  He goes to the refrigerator, and it is stocked with snacks and food and even beer (which I don't drink, but he does, and I buy for him).  He never thinks twice about laundry for the girl - her drawers are magically refilled (and when the clothes get to small, they automatically show up in the next size - magic!).  He works on bikes out in the garage, and when she wanders around saying "I'm bored, Mama" I do activities with her.  When she says, "I'm hungry," I feed her.

When he moves out, all that will change.

I'm mad at him for all of this, sure.  But I feel sorry for him, too.  I fill hopeful about the future.  I feel certain of my own ability to manage.  I am proud of the effort I put in to making our lives rich and full, even on a shoestring budget.  He is depressed, angry, lonely (he has isolated from many people).

I know he's hurting.  I feel compassion for him, and I work hard on that compassion.  (It turns out that being compassionate is very hard work.)

But it absolutely wears me out to be the strong one, the one setting the agenda, the one who has to keep pushing him away.

And I feel even more worn out when I think of the to-do list associated with his moving out.  Some days I'm barely holding on by a thread, and I feel like I can't manage one more single thing.

Deep breaths.  One foot, then another, then another, then another.......