Lucky you, dear readers: you get another dose of venting (whining). I would probably share my Ambien with you if you asked.
I’ve probably complained about this before, but I’m doing it again because it still fucking sucks: My daughter and I spent all afternoon at my friend’s house, and when her daddy came to pick her up, she didn’t want to leave me. We weren’t able to distract her, so eventually I had to just give her a kiss and walk away from his car, hearing her cry for her mommy.
Listen, I know that it’s better that this (and not an uninvolved dad) is the problem. I’m sure this happens to every parent–even ones who are still married. I don’t think it would get to me as badly if I had been, say, leaving her at home to go back back to work tonight. But I wasn’t, and I hate it. She doesn’t understand why she has to leave me sometimes. At her age, she wouldn’t even if I explained it to her; when she asks why she has to sleep at daddy’s house, I tell her that her daddy loves her and is a very special person in her life, so it’s important that she spend time with him.
I don’t see how a kid her age experiences this as anything but a rejection. Obviously, I can’t ever say, “Mommy doesn’t want you to leave either,” because that would confuse her more. I have to be the grown up and just reassure her that I’m always with her, that she’ll have a great time with her daddy, and that we’d be back together before she knew it. When she gets back, I say something like, “I missed you, too, but I knew that you were with your daddy and that you’d be back soon, so I just held my heart* and thought about the hugs and kisses I’d give you when you get back.”
*We have matching rose quartz hearts that we “recharge” with kisses for each other while packing for her overnights with daddy. I need a transitional object as much as she does, frankly.
I kept walking, and my friends sympathized and distracted me from crying. However, now that I’m home, I feel pretty terrible again. I’ve been feeling worse over the last week–the anxiety is bad enough that I’m wondering if the combination of a low dose of meds and starting therapy again just provided a placebo effect that has now worn off. (And then it’s like, “If that’s the case, how much longer am I going to feel like this?,” which gets me panicky again…even more so because my therapist is away again, so I didn’t get the “reality testing” fix that I might need today).
I had a good afternoon. I had wonderful company, and I actually was able to stay present and absorb what they said. That should be enough of a break from the things that are troubling me for me to not feel like I got punched in the stomach with them the minute I was alone again.