There’s another thing about being a single mom, or is it just about being me…
Love actually hurts me.
The feeling of feeling (again) raises some kind of pain up inside of me that I can’t shake. And then I start lashing out, sabotaging my relationships, wishing away these butterflies for fear that they will turn into gray, evil moths.
Then I say things I don’t mean.
I hear them coming out of my mouth and I suddenly want to take them back. Rather than learning how to control this it seems to get worse as I age, as I become more cynical, as I become more accustomed to being single and as relationships seem more foreign, more complex and distant than ever.
I can blame that or pms or this awful, awful stress headache I can’t seem to shake but the words are still out there now – in the air, on his mind. I am just hoping he can forgive me or at the very least learn to recognize that like any animal, I may not be wounded anymore but the scars are still there.
The things I have experienced, are fortunately, like nothing he’s ever even had to taste and every once in a while they are right there, fresh again. On top of the deep scarring and baggage I’m hauling around there’s also the pressure.
There are always so many emotions I’m balancing while also trying to make sure everyone in the room walks out of it with warm fuzzy happy family feelings. It can be tiring as hell.
Sometimes I just want to be a bitch and moan and groan until the cows come home. But I can’t. I am the head of my household. I am the person my son’s world revolves around and now I am the one who holds a man’s heart in my hands, one I am so grateful to have, as he holds mine.
The balancing act must be maintained. If not, if I do lose my temper or snap and say something rash, the person on the receiving end is most likely someone who does not deserve to hear it.
So one question.
How do married moms do it? Please, enlighten me.
Because Mrs. Cleaver I am definitely not. Did you take some kind of mind numbing medicine? Or is there some special yoga pose I need to learn?
Perhaps this is why I run away from feeling because being single is easier for me. I don’t want to raise these skeletons from the dead and I’ve never liked cleaning out empty, dark basement corners.
But this time I am going in but I’ll bring a flash light, maybe you guys can hold it and show me the way.
He’s worth it.
And besides, what fun would life be if I didn’t scare myself every once in a while?