Nothing good happens after midnight, my dad would say.
I would add to that, nothing good happens after midnight particularly after watching four hours of tv drama. An overdose of TV sitcoms makes me start to think of my life in terms of plot lines with characters full of angst and turmoil.
To top it all off, I got on Facebook and read a few "real life" blogs. My nephew is a few months younger than my oldest, and he is thriving in gymnastics and taking piano lessons, my sister reports on the family blog.
I've done a pretty good job of avoiding self-pity the last few months. (It's all relative.) It used to be one of my biggest vices but I'm working on it. Tonight I crawled in bed and tears of self-pity rolled down my cheeks.
"Are my kids missing out on life because I've hunkered down? Am I so totally absorbed in my recovery, or lack thereof, that I'm depriving them of extracurricular activities?
Why do I have to deal with this, and my sister doesn't? Why does she get to spend hours at meets and recitals but I'm determined to isolate myself because I'm trying to find some emotional safe ground?"
As you all know, another vice of mine is validation. And here I sit shamelessly seeking validation.
It's hard to drop all the fun stuff in life to try to save your marriage.
Now I'm going back to bed, and hoping that things look better in the morning.