Anxiety

Anxiety

Pieces Of My Life

Skirt | Shoes | Blouse | Sunglasses

Yesterday afternoon, I sat in my lawyer's office with a huge stack of papers in front of me. I signed, flipped. Signed again. Flipped again. I did this until I'd reached the bottom of the stack, then handed them over, and all of a sudden it hit me:

Wait. I asked her. Was that the thing that people in movies are always refusing to sign and crying about? And usually the person crying and not wanting to sign but signing anyway is played by Diane Keaton?

Anxiety

Wide Open Spaces

A few days ago I asked you guys for reader questions over on IG and...ahhh...let's just say there was a theme. Some of the questions (where are you going to live? Where's K going to live? How are you all handling the separation?) I simply can't answer now, either because I don't know what the answers are, or because they're just too sensitive to touch.

Something that's been fascinating to me ever since this process started is the sheer volume of women who've written to me, saying that they're in various stages of the separation process, or saying that they feel like they need to separate from their partners, but don't know why, exactly, and definitely don't know how.

How did you know? they ask.

Anxiety

The Fall

California sunrise via

I woke up this morning cold. Not just "annoyed that I had to get out of bed and abandon once and for all the chance that I might be able to sleep until the point where I actually feel rested" - that hasn't happened in a few months, and I don't see it in my near future. Like, freezing. Teeth-chattering.

(Yes yes, the former Boston/NYC-dweller in me is rolling her judgy little eyes. Whatever, my body is set to California now. I'm cold.)

Anxiety

Nothing To Do But Jump

I am not really an app person, and though my phone is full of all the apps in the world c/o my six-year-old, I couldn't tell you how to play any of the games on pain of death.

Video games, now - those I like, ever since I discovered the joys of Duck Hunt at the tender age of six (when parents all over the country simultaneously decided that it was a good idea to give their elementary schoolers pretend rifles and let them pretend-kill defenseless little birds). Kendrick and I had a brief (albeit rapturous) dalliance with Angry Birds back when we first started living together. I will happily play Super Mario with my son all night, every night because Super Mario is wonderful. And - just saying - I will take you DOWN in MarioKart (oh, yes I will). But when it comes to Candy Crush and Farmtown (or whatever it's called) or any of those other app-type games that I always see people posting about on Facebook?

Not really my thing. My phone is for looking at clothing I cannot afford to buy, watching Bachelor In Paradise from my bathtub, and accidentally and horrifyingly butt-dialing exes and frenemies.

Anxiety

The Anger In Me

current mood via.

In couples' counseling a couple of weeks ago, I started yelling. I went into the session determined - promising myself - that I wouldn't go there, that I'd follow the rules (use "I feel" language, try not to stick to my "personal narrative," et cetera auuuuuuugh), and that I'd be calm and clear and loving. That I'd talk less, and listen more

And then, all of a sudden, I was in that place again: the angry place that I didn't know existed in me, but that I sure as hell know about now.


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