ThreeMissingPiecesIt is hard to explain how difficult life becomes when my three little boys are gone.  They are spending this week with their father and no matter how much I tell myself that it is only a week.  That they will be back soon. Nothing makes the emptiness that I feel when they are gone go away.  It is amazing to me how my little boys came from heaven and took such a huge part of my heart.  They have no idea that when they leave they take those pieces with them and I long to have them back.  The pain of betrayal is horrible, the pain of divorce stings, but the pain of not being able to be with your kids all of the time, that bears with it the worst kind of wound.  My house doesn’t even feel like home without them.   I can’t even imagine the feeling of sadness that a parent must have when they lose one of their precious babies for good. Oh, how my heart hurts for them, a small taste of that cup has me slumped and in a blue state.

I notice that I am highly irritable and even simple tasks come with a challenge.  My desire for almost everything has left me this week, and I don’t want to be here.  This is one of those moments when I will myself to pull out of the slump, but I just don’t want to.  What I really want is to be left alone.  I have been trying to numb so that I don’t miss them so much.  A Novel here, a bag of chocolate there.  Nothing is working!

Then the shame tapes start playing.  Oh, how I hate those tapes.  Messages like,

               “What is wrong with you?”                                                      “Pull yourself out if it.”

“Are you seriously going to have a miserable week because of this?”

Then the fear messages creep in:

“Are you seriously codependent on your kids?  Nice job, way to be healthy.  You better go back and look at your worksheets and make sure that you aren’t, that is not cool.”

“Have you noticed that they haven’t called you, you’re obviouly not that important.”

And I sit at the computer and cry.  I cry because I miss them.  I cry because I want nothing more than to show up on their dad’s door step.  I cry because this was not the life I chose for myself.  I want to scream, “Why me, why did this have to happen to me?”

I have three years of counseling, I have countless tools to use, but today, today I just want to cry and miss them.  Maybe tomorrow I will be able to pull myself together, but not tonight.  Tonight I will curl up with their belongings and long for their return.