My writing has been phoned-in lately. It’s been uninspired and insipid, and full of filler. I’m sorry for that. I really am. I take pride in writing, and trying to write well, and sometimes, I do. But lately, I just don’t have anything. I care. I want to do well, but well… things are too… hard.

Life is just so freaking hard. A year and a half with no job. Over 300 resumes sent out, and you cannot even imagine what my husband’s self image is. I also cannot begin to tell you what this has done to our relationship. I can see, all to easily, how marriages crumble under this kind of stress. Some days, I want out too. Some days I want to just pack up and leave. Or make him. And I tell myself that is not the solution, and I don’t really want to do that to our family.  And so I pull myself back from the edge. But each time it gets harder.

Things with my family are hard too. I cannot share too much about what’s going on here, because if I’ve learned anything, it’s that family remembers. I don’t want to tell my family how much things suck, and how much I ache, so I hold it in.

I’ve been a bad friend to a lot of people too. I’m so far behind on thanking people for their kindnesses, I don’t even know where to begin. So I do nothing. Paralyzed. My kids never even called Grandma to thank her for their Valentines gifts. And that is all my fault. I didn’t remember to remind them. That’s not like me at all. And the water rises higher…

Spring is poking it’s head from under the icy quilt of winter, but as each month marches on, it just means another mortgage payment we have to find a way to pay. And the stock market big whigs fly off to Barbados on our tax dollars. I feel ill.

I say things I don’t mean. I try and catch my breath, and then snap at the kids for needing me when I can’t breathe. It’s not their fault. They hardly know what’s going on- or maybe I’m deluding myself, and they know exactly what’s going on. Mama is sad. Daddy is grumpy. What more does a kid need to understand?

Once, when I was a girl, I drifted into the deeper part of the pool. Never a strong swimmer, I didn’t appreciate being in water over my head. The clear deeper blue and cooler currents gave away my drifting and I pressed my legs down, reaching and stretching and yearning for the solid touch of the bottom. Arms swaying, nose bobbing barely in the air, the fluid rolling edge of the water circling my upturned face, I could almost feel the rough blue surface, just beyond reach. Almost…

I know it’s there. I just have to give something up… only this time, I don’t know what I have to give. The rolling silver edge of the water is all around me, and I can’t figure out what I need more- to breathe, or to touch the Bottom.

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