Blue skies out there, and the birds and the neighbors across the street stacking stones into a garden wall along the yard. If I didn’t know my neighbors like I do, I'd mistake their chatter sounds outside for a happy family. They sure look content.
But, I know. I know how she thinks about leaving and what it would take to keep them together and how they might be better together apart. I know how she’s depressed by it, just like me.
I sent Sam and the girls off for a daddy day at the hot springs up around Mt. Hood this morning. Wanted the day to myself and here it is, my day, and I can’t think of a thing to do. That’s just like me.
Whole list a list of chores. Clean and wash and shop and walk and garden, get on top of the work that’s gotten out from under me. But all I want is sleep.
Crawl myself back into bed and not think of the things I’m not doing. Or the things I am, which is not much of anything. Not think of how I’d rather be out in the woods with my family or about how if I was out in the woods, I’d be wishing I was right back here.
It’s that depression settling back in. I can feel it under my eyelids. The steady burn pulling them shut. The voice that says I don’t have the energy for this anymore. And the answer, it’s all I have.
I just want to be content.
Stay up all night searching for space and I feel crazy all day longing for sleep.
Feels just like this marriage always felt. Claustrophobic.
I have a friend who’s not considering separation. Really, that’s how it feels these days, like everyone I know is coming apart or in some perpetual state of marital unhappiness. Struggle.
All but one person. She’s already divorced.
My friend across the street asked me why Sam and I got back together, how it happened. I told her I thought there was enough love left to work with, and there is. But it carries our same old problems, does all the same old damage to us. And to our kids.
Blue skies out there today, and the bird songs and the new flowers in bloom. And, still, I just want crawl back into my bed.