Hey jealousy

Sy has booked a few days away for himself.  Which is brilliant and, gentle reader, don’t get me wrong, a really lovely thing.

I’m so envious.  I’m jealous that he gets time in a block like that.  It’s that experience of not wanting to celebrate the breakdown of his marriage and subsequent divorce – I’m not some kind of horrid monster – despite all the benefits that I get (ie him).

But he gets to co parent.  And there was an article in the paper again today that spoke about how, when co-parenting can actually be an advantage for families – both parents get the “down time” that they’re looking for and all that stuff.  Our QLD trip was easy for him because it was in his “kid free week”…. all of my time is negotiated.  All of my time is reliant / dependent on someone else saying “yes”.

If only my fucked up other person could be trusted with more than 8 hour blocks.

If only I could have some of that time – although how did I spend it today?  Drinking coffee and having a nap.  And yes, maybe that is what I needed for today.  But isn’t it in this space that I discover my hobbies?  The things that I like doing?  I don’t “like” doing anything that requires more than a few hours because that’s all the time I have.  I’d love to do an exhausting walk that ended up with me in front of an open fire and wine and the luxury of a claw-foot bath.

I am so full of judgement.  And resentment.  So much anger and then I have to pack it all up for when she gets home because I don’t want her to feel that I resent her.  I hate it when she says she loves him.  But that’s the reality of our lives now.

So where to from here then?  A life lived of seething resentment.

I just want to be swepty away and rescued and for someone to tell me I’m ok and that I’m doing a good job.  That’s the thing I miss I think.  Not that I got much of it in my life in the “ago” – but the gentle thanks for the cup of tea or the acknowledgement that I exist as a person in my own state – not as a provider but a person.

In all of this, I’ve lost myself.  I don’t know who I am and it scares me to be facing that same void of years ago.

Where is me?  Where do I get the time and space to cultivate me?  Mum says “spend money on yourself”…. on what?  Clothes that I don’t go out in?  Books that I have no time to read?  This is all that powerlessness and defeat and sadness that compounds on itself over and over.

So – wine, flirt with my boys and once again, go to bed alone only to wake up to go to work.

 

 

 

 

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