Inevitably a couple of weeks after every move I experience a day where life seems to come crashing down around me. It happens all of a sudden and cannot be stopped.
Today was that day.
We were walking through the bookstore at Notre Dame when I felt panicked by the fact that I was completely surrounded by people and places that were 100% foreign to me. I should mention that the day had not gone as planned and my kids were not being particularly well behaved at that same moment, which probably lead to my quick demise. My heart sunk to my toes; the light in my eyes burned out, and I was left with anger rising in my veins.
It rose until it burst in the car while my kids watched bewildered by this being that now inhabited their mother's body. But I didn't care. I'm not sure I do now either.
I don't feel angry now. I just feel nothing. Well, everything and nothing, which somewhere in my brain divides itself into nothing so I am numb. And I want to crawl under the covers and reappear in a familiar place--not necessarily Texas, but not here, not now. Oddly, I think the place I want to go is home. I want to hide at my parents' house because I know they'd understand, but I can't.
I must remain here in this gray city where I have little adult interaction and zero alone time away from the kids, unless you count a run to the grocery store when they're sleeping, which I don't because that's lame. I have no friends. I changed time zones so reaching my existing friends has been hard. My heart is a little bit broken.
This is self pity at its finest folks. I am pathetic, and I know it, but somehow I am trying to trick my brain into believing that if I write about it perhaps it will change. Wish me luck.