Breaking Point

Remember that post the other day about exH losing it? Wait, was that only yesterday? It seems like a long time ago. Before exH got even crazier, before I decided to pack up and move out two weeks early (and later decided not to), before he lost his only client and effectively became unemployed. Before I was facing an indefinite period of time without child support. Give me back the craziness of yesterday because today might hit the list of top 10 worst days ever.

But I have always been good in a crisis. That's what'll be chiseled on my gravestone, I'm sure, because that is what everyone always says about me. I suppose it's true. The day-to-day nonsense seems to easily overwhelm me, but today I haven't shed a single tear. I've calmly made phone calls, gathered information, and weighed my options. I've been decisive and determined. So, yeah, I can handle a crisis. But here's the secret: This is when I feel most alone. Because even at my best, my most capable and confident, there is only me.

Even though I feel alone, and even though there is not much they can really do, I am grateful for my mom, sister, R, and P right now. My mom, who will literally do anything for me. Who would gladly give me the money to make this all go away if I asked, but from whom I cannot ask another dollar. My mom, who knows what emotional abuse is and how deeply its invisible scars run, who loves me and my children more than her own life, who even loves exH if only because he is her grandchildren's father. My sister, who barely knows me, but loves me just the same. Who is coming to spend a week here just to help me paint the new place and play with my children while I settle in. My sister, who is seven years younger and who I have ignored for most of the past 20 years (benignly not hatefully, but still), but who still asked me to be her maid of honor. And did I mention helping me paint? R, who listens and listens and listens and chases after me when I have to leave the building in order to preserve my pristine record of not crying at work. And finally P, who gives me a place to go when I can't be home, who doesn't really want to have to take care of anyone other than himself but who is in his own small way taking care of me anyway.