where we're at
It's not my fault you're unhappy. That you can't handle the stress. That you flip at the slightest provocation. But, how, as your wife, do I navigate your shitty, stormy waters? How do I take the brutal wave, ignore it, reassemble myself and do what's best for those kids? Maybe if my biggest worries were what color to do my next manicure in. Maybe if I had all day to mull your shit over. Maybe if I were concerned with the PTA and meal prep. But that's not me. I'm taking your daughter to Philly and managing her delicate healthcare. I'm working full time, trying to learn a job I need for some sort of financial freedom. I'm still recovering from the trauma of losing my dream job and navigating those friendships, stepping on egg shells. I'm trying (and failing) to stay sober, to quit smoking, to keep our son alive and our daughter healthy and happy and making a stellar impression at work as a new manager. I'm doing the dishes, calling for meds, havi...