Obtuse

The worst part about it -- aside from the gnawing, ever-present desire to be within close physical proximity of him -- is the part of me that has awakened and that won't be cast aside, a canker sore that pulls the tongue like a magnet even though each touch causes a resurgence of pain, anguish. And we even sat down and I told him and the tears and the talk about how it's like we've found ourselves at year thirteen of a marriage already oxidizing from white to yellow. He offers nothing in reply but hope for the weekend and actual time as a couple, dating, and two days later the hope is torn asunder with a text about money and I just want to know something other than sacrifice. I don't think you can ever explain it, to a parent, as a non parent, how hard it is to always be in second place. I do not think it's too much to ask, to not have to ask.

So what do you do about that? Where do you go. There is always the weight room and being alone and focusing the frustration on building muscle and letting Drake weave the story of my feelings. For now, to figure out how to let that be enough. I'm just going to let myself feel what I feel and not attach any guilt to that, to any of it. Just, to find meaning in the parts of my life that are authentically me. To know that the rest can be temporary and that it all hinges upon a decision -- my decision.