But that did not make me love him any less, and did nothing to tamper the absolute devastation that pummeled me when we broke up. I’ve known Kirsten for 12 years, and even though she lives on the other side of the country, we remain very close and she knows all my shit. As I talked and sobbed and blubbered and talked some more it all came out.
Even months after we split, Sundays when my kids are with their dad and I would have otherwise spent with my ex-boyfriend, I instead engaged in unseemly behavior like walking around the streets of Manhattan while bawling uncontrollably, listening to John Legend on a loop and reading the on Carrie and Mr. Not only was all this embarrassing, it was also incongruous with the events at hand. Besides the end of my relationship, my mom has been unwell.
For months after that conversation, I gave myself permission to mourn.
Those sad Sundays were committed to indulging the emotion and grief and healing that had eluded me. At bedtime after coming home from her dad’s on Sunday, I laid next to my then-4-year-old daughter in her twin bed. I worry I dismiss the grief my kids might feel over the divorce. Even more than an ending love, all that pain and torment is really about contending with unresolved heartbreak from divorce.
I am just one person responsible for two human beings. “We’ve all watched you over the past few years be so strong and amazing,” Kirsten said.
“But I said to myself, ‘I hope this girl can find time to process it all.
Eighteen months after my marriage ended, I jumped into a heady, sexually intense year-long relationship with a fellow writer and parent who was 20 years older than I was.
In hindsight, it was no surprise it ended — his kids were grown, mine were tiny, our lives were at different points.
My mom, who adores my kids second only to their parents.As my children and their needs as people grow, it seems that our circle of people shrinks – and the pressures of being a single mother mount.