The Next Day

Last night after I crumbled on my floor in word vomit I got up to pee and wash my face. The skin underneath my eye stung and when I examined it it looked like there was a paper cut directly in the folded crease my puffy under eye bags. It’s not the first time I’ve rubbed my eyes raw from crying but it is the first time that doing so resulted in finding something different to cry about. Discovering how deep those creases are, how many of them. How long have they been there!? I swear that skin wasn’t this thin, loose and swollen 6 months ago.
I put my middle one to bed, fed the baby a bottle and found my head still spiraling. Who gives 2 shits about irritating your skin, I still have more crying to do. T was up, so I laid there sobbing in silence, to not wake the two little, while regurgitating that same word vomit I posted about and then some.
Oddly enough I woke up feeling a lot better when I expected to feel like garbage. And each one of my babies woke up smiling.

My friend who was with me during my last delivery, who played the role my ex didn’t show up for, called me crying about something that happened with her husband. I wish she didn’t feel so stuck.

I got on a role tonight and deep cleaned our TV room. I think I’m going to keep at it for a couple more bours. I miss this. The productive time to myself in the late stretch of the night. I should ride the wave of momentum before I poop out and give up again for another three months.