Second Guessing

12 Dec

weighing his options

I was feeling sad this morning. Of course people tend to feel sad when their most basic needs aren’t being met, and on top of dealing with my loss, I am now also facing intense sleep deprivation, and lack of warmth, body-to-body, which I believe to be a basic human need.

After giving Baby his morning cuddle and bottle, I sat beside him on his playmat, and just looked at him. He had his sleepy morning stare on, adjusting to a new day. He was weighing his options: grab the red guitar, the ball with the bell in it, the blue fleece blanket he likes to drape over his head, stuff into his mouth and chew. And there was me, sitting beside him, leaning toward him, with my hair and t-shirt and galsses, all attractions on their own.

I looked at him and yawned, and leaned back and closed my eyes, and tried to weigh my options. What did I want to start my day with? What did I want to start this new life with? I have a full life. Full to an extent it’s hard to squeeze a pin in. And yet, there are so many things that I wish I could fit into this puzzle, things that would make me really happy.

I’m considering going back to school to get my Phd. That’s a big thing. A commitment. I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet, but I’m definitely toying with the idea. And there is the other thing. Love. I want to devote some time to figuring stuff out. And despite my efforts to be “out there” and my fantasies or daydreams about hitting on guys, enjoying a physical relationship with no reprecussions, I’m not sure that would be a good thing for me.

Baby Daddy is still in the picture. I’ve been calling him Baby Daddy here on this blog in an attempt to make him just that. Father of my son and nothing more. But that, obviously, isn’t the case. He’s not just Baby Daddy. He’s also Husband. It feels really uncomfortable, almost painful to even write that. A husband is not someone who walks out on his family. So, am I right in my attempt to be all fierce and bad ass and say I’m not waiting around for anyone, I’m taking care of myself? Or am I moving too fast. Is life like a delicious meal, that if gulp down too quickly you might choke, or get sick? Do I need to pace myself? And if so, how slowly am I supposed to go? How long does the greiving period last? When do I stop being angry? At what point do I start to feel OK about the end of this relationship and justified in my yearning to move on?


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