I have this uneasy feeling. This fluttering in my chest. I remember when fluttering in my chest meant i was in the presence of someone i was madly in love with. Fluttering now is part of my constant state of anxiety and sorrow.

I am so tired of being the bad guy in this town, in this relationship, in this conversation.

Going through a divorce sucks. It sucks you dry. The pulling apart of two lives. Some parts like crazy glue. Those years shared. Some of them really great, some of them really crappy. All the years in between where we just existed, like many couples do. Just getting through the days, the work, the children.

It has been over two years since we first separated.

For two years i have been the subject of gossip and assumption. Two years is a long time to hold your head high.

If i could have one wish it would be to go back to the day i made the decision to screw it all up and kick myself in the shins.

It's not that simple though. I would have to go back many more years and kick my ex-husband in the shins. Tell him to listen to me, to respect me, to help me.

And then i'd have to go back through all the years and kick myself a few more times and kick a bunch of other people along the way.

A life unfolds. Things happen, good and bad, mundane and thrilling. All of these events in my life that formed me. I remember them all. Separation anxiety, shoplifting, eating disorders, crazy crushes, depression, mania, date rape, death, abortion, drugs, alcohol, love, happiness, sadness, birth, children, passion, desire, heartbreak.

And the one person who knew me better than anyone else, who held my secrets in his heart and my heart in his hands is gone. Free to spill my secrets out to the world.

Anybody who is friends with me on Facebook knows that my profile pic is, as a rule, of my legs or torso, never my face.

It has become a fun little thing for me. Late at night, usually after work, when i don't have the kids i start taking pictures with photo booth. There are many, many pictures. If i'm lucky i get one that i like. (like the one above from last night.)

I'm thinking i need to put all of these leg pictures into one place. An evolution of the leggy self-portrait. The silly things i do to entertain myself and keep from feeling alone.

I am coming back for you, leave the house after supper
meet me at Low Gap, I will come with two horses, one in each
hand, they will be striped with darkness and the shadow
of deep wells.

"The Jesse James Poems" Paulette Jiles

The one thing i fail to learn, year in, year out, is that expectations will get you nothing. Expectations will give you sleepless nights and stomach aches, longing and doubt, disappointment.

My birthday weekend turned out to be full of antibiotics and changes of plans and making do with what was on hand.

The kids and i had a great time together, which at the end of the day when i look in my heart and think of what i truly want - it is special moments and memories with them. We played laser tag and hung out with family. I was a little off because of a nasty infection, but my sister, the doctor, quickly sorted me out. I was a little off because i had expected to see friends and have some time to myself and my dreams. I was a little off.

The kids mirrored my mood, my mood swings. We all swung high to low, glee to anger. It was a challenging weekend. I have to remind myself that holidays are especially difficult for them. We are not together as a nuclear family, we are together as a new family. Post-nuclear.

I have to learn to limit my expectations to what they can handle, what is best for them. Save my dreaming for my time without them.

I woke up early this morning and quietly shut bedroom doors to sleeping babies as i crept downstairs to light a fire and put on the coffee.

Shuffling around on cold wood floors, waiting for coffee to brew, listening to the cedar spit and crack. It feels like autumn this morning. Another change. I can hardly wait to put on my boots and wrap scarves around my neck.

Listening to Monsters of Folk echo off all the closed doors. I wander down to the dock, coffee steaming, fuzzy boots warming my bare toes.

The mist over the lake is magical this morning. The house is quiet behind me. Whose dog was that howling and barking over the lake in the middle of the night?

I want to sit in a cabin, all alone, with my thoughts. sit and listen to them until this all makes sense.

This house is beautiful. i can't shake the feeling of not having a home. i long for my things. i miss my desk. i miss my bed. i miss a house that feels like home.

I was joking around with ada on twitter last night about divorce in the age of social networking.

You see, a few weeks ago my ex-husband removed me as a friend on FaceBook. I was crushed. It seemed a silly thing to be upset about, but it was like that final door closing. I was unfriended. We were no longer friends. I pictured photo albums being poured through and my face cut out of family photographs. Trash bags full of photos of my head.

The other night my daughter asked me to look at something she had written on her dad's profile. "I can't we're not friends." She looked puzzled. "Well, add him as a friend." It's important to me to not bring the kids into the drama that ebbs and flows between their father and i, yet i didn't want to lie to her and i didn't want to hurt her. "I could do that, but maybe it's for the best, this way we both get our privacy."

Then there is this blog, there is twitter. I have locked and unlocked my twitter account several times over the past few months. How do i navigate this? How do i say what i want to say, sometimes need to say, without causing pain and protecting my privacy. The answer? You can't. If i want privacy i would have to get off the internet and i just can't do that. The support and therapeutic value of writing, of putting it out there, is too strong for me.

Instead, i will slowly unentangle two lives and six years of marriage that happened online.

Last night the kids were looking through old photos. They were laughing and giggling at themselves as babies and toddlers. I stopped making photo albums about four years ago, when i got my digital SLR and started putting everything online and on my computer.

Parker was a little sad that there were none of him, but i reminded him that there are about a billion photos of him on my computer. The thought of getting all these digital photos into books is a little daunting.

I have had the kids for almost three weeks straight, with a night here and there at their dads. He has been travelling and there have been the birthday parties at my house. I'm a little pooped, running a little short on energy. But, i persevere.

Yesterday we went swimming in the lake after school, then for dinner at my restaurant. Eating at my workplace on my day off is not always my first choice, but the kids love going there. It's a treat for them.

After dinner we went back to the lake and we all swam around and ran along the logs as the sun set. It was really fun. Too often, i sit on the beach and supervise instead of jumping in - brrrrr - and splashing with them. I was so glad i did last night. It perked me up, woke me up and let me laugh and scream as i tried to negotiate the rolling logs.

It also gave me enough energy to give bedtime a good effort. A rousing reading of "Where the Wild Things Are" and then dancing to the song they played in the trailer for the movie. As an aside, the movie looks so good. I am more excited than the kids.

After they were asleep i checked eliza's fairy house as seen in the photo above and read her daily note. "dear juniper, i am so happy. you are my best friend. i love you. eliza." I love her little fairy life. Her "fairy" writes her back teeny tiny notes and gives her little gifts. She is always the first up in the morning and i watch her as she opens the front door, peaks out to see if there is a note. When there is she runs out and grabs it and then spends half an hour writing a new note. This week she even made her fairy a skirt out of lilac leaves and a sparkly ribbon.

Good days. Good days.

A while ago, late at night, fueled by a need for revenge i placed a profile on a dating sight. I left it there for about eight hours, or one sleep.

As, i've said before i'm really not interested in dating.

Within minutes of placing my picture and a profile that said "i'm not interested and i'm taking this down in the morning," my inbox started beeping with messages. In that one night of sleep eighteen men added me to their favourites and asked me out on a date.

I pictured a room in a Monty Python movie filled with men in varying degrees of dress sitting at their laptops and someone rang a bell and yelled "Fresh meat!"

I have been trying to write a post all day.

I don't know how to say what i need to say without hurting people.

The days are hard and the nights are hard.

Moments of clarity strike me with incredible sadness and braveness. I feel everything all at once. Reading to parker tonight, him smelling lovely and lavender after a bath. I was struck with my intense love for him and, at the same time, the sadness.

"I love you parker" i said in between chapters of Magic TreeHouse. "I love you too."

Our days together are such a grab bag of emotions. We flow through them. The kids cruising between intense emotions, expecting me to follow their abrupt changes. It is harder for me, an adult. I can't love and hate in a single minute. Their outbursts weigh heavy on me. And they come often and in waves. I am left exhausted at the dinner table. Trying to deal with it all, and deal with myself, and not lose my patience. And let's not forget that internal fear of not being the "better" parent. My house is a hovel compared to their other. I feel i need to make up for it in love and fun. Though i lay awake at night knowing that is crazy. That they are lucky to have two loving homes. Two parents whom adore them.

I lay awake at night wondering how all this happened. Writing entire novels in my head. Working it all out, making sense of it.

I wake in the morning at a lost for words because i am lost in words.

The prospect of dating looming in my former husbands mind and so far from mine. The prospect of another life with someone else is unfathomable to me. I feel lost in this.

It's been a week of firsts.

First sleep in the new house, first sleep in the house with the kids, first day alone. First grocery shop where the financial reality kicked in and the kids and i had to leave a cart full of groceries behind as i had mistaken the day the child tax credit went into my account.

First tears, first laughs.

The reality crashing down on me yesterday after i dropped the kids off that i was really here. Here in this house.

First walk to work, embracing the sunshine and collecting thoughts as my legs worked out the winter kinks.

There is nothing easy about all of this. This time feels so final, so definite. I am trying to think of all the positives; the vegetable garden waiting to be fed and seeded, the lovely windows looking out at the lake, the super comfy bed i bought myself, the friendships i will need to grow, the friends i already have - both here and there, the time to work on personal and professional growth.

Time alone is a good thing, i need to find comfort in solace and love in myself before i can find it anywhere else.

Over the weekend my domain name expired. It made me realize how much i love this website. How much it means to me to have this space to share and record my life. The mundane and the exciting.

The thought that over a twenty four hour period anybody in the whole world could buy up drowninginkids.com had me in a panic. Luckily, it's not really a name many people, or anybody, wanted. So, it's mine for another three years. Phew.

This life in transition is going well. The hardest part is combining our lives again. Two homes to bring back together as one. Giving up my home will be hard. I love my little house and everything it means for me. The hard work i had to do to make it mine. The struggles and successes. The space of my own.

Combining our lives also means coming to terms with both of us having had other people involved in them. We have both had other relationships. Dealing with the range of emotions that brings is more than difficult. Nothing worth having is ever easy though.

It will be another long journey.

Being single, a single parent, has been the toughest job i have ever had.

Being single in a married world is lonely and isolating. For instance, camping, where i am with couples and their kids. I watch them have small, intimate moments at the campfire. Little nods and smiles, caresses and giggles exchanged. Even the little arguments. I miss those. The small hills and valleys that define a relationship, make it strong. Make it love.

Being single means sleeping in a tent with your children is the closest you get to intimacy. Being single means stuffing that fricking tent in it's case with only your 80 pound daughter to help you. Being single means packing odd numbers of plates and cups. Being single means driving alone up front. Being single means hours and hours of driving with nobody to complain to about all the "are we there yets?!"

Being a single parent means weekends alone in your house. Being a single parent means more freedom than you want. Being a single parent means desperate longing for your children to return to you. Being a single parent means struggle. Struggle to pay bills. Struggle to drive to activities. Being a single parent means guilt. Guilt that your kids are unhappy. Guilt that you can't do everything. Guilt that every last nerve is worn thin.

Being a single parent also means pride. Pride that you really can do it.

I've been listening to the new Wolf Parade album non-stop. I love them for so many reasons, not the least of which one of them is from right here in my town. Music is healing for me, helps me to explore and understand my moods and feelings and gives me something to relate to. Not unlike reading blogs.

We spent the afternoon lazily at the lake. The kids swimming and sunning. I was feeling calm and melancholy. I feel that way a lot.

A quiet resolve. Trying to be at peace with this loneliness.

It's not that different from my life was as a stay at home. That was lonely too. Days spent with children and rare adult interaction. The days are still the same. I think the loneliness comes from knowing that at night there will be no adult conversation. There will be kids and baths and bedtime stories, or there will be work. With work, at least, i get some adult conversation. But, it is really a one way street. People like to talk about themselves, i like to indulge them. It helps me to escape my life for awhile. Imagine their lives and how different they are from mine.

In ways it is good. I am really beginning to know myself. See all the little faults. I would say i am getting used to this, but that's not it. It's a resolve to loneliness.

"People don't just break up."

That's what he said. He didn't understand how all this happened. How we got to this place of separate houses, children shuffled back and forth.

"how did this happen to us?"

And we sit and we talk. Sometimes the conversation is light and friendly. Just like it always was. Two friends. Two lives forever inter-mingled. Histories made together.

Often we end in tears. Tears of frustration and anger and sadness all mixed together. It is almost too painful for both of us.

The desire to figure out the problems. To try and fix them always opens the conversation back up. And we always walk away feeling worse. Problems highlighted. Regret, longing, desire becoming the new themes in this relationship. Words that we want to roll up in a ball and toss in the fire. Words that we can't manage to get past.

This theme of running has been coursing it's way through my head the last few days.

Running from problems.
Running from hurt.
Running from reality.
Running from potential.

I think at moments, at times, we all run. It's human nature to want to avoid confrontation. The potential for hurt emotions, or worse, humiliation.

I have purposely slowed down this week. I have done my running. It has left me exhausted. But, i have landed now. A new home, a new life. Same things grounding me as they always have. Children, family, friends.

If i keep running i stand to lose these things. Perhaps not physically, but emotionally. Life, for all it's ups and downs, is always a learning experience and sometimes good things rise out of the ashes of the bad. I have found myself again. Through hours of introspection and searching. I am finally seeing the woman i am, the woman who got lost in the rush of life.

All the positive and negative images of my life coming together like an old album that i can flip through; laugh at the mistakes with a knowing nod and celebrate all the joy.

And you sit here in your freezing house because you ran out of oil and the wood stove only heats one room and is so much work to keep going and the kids are miserable and cold as are you sleeping fully clothed, shivering, not remembering the last time you were warm and the kids ask "why can't we all just live together?" and you cry quietly in the bathroom for all you have lost and the poverty that has crept in to your life and another night of pasta for dinner and the endless oddjobs that you do just to make ends meet when they really aren't meeting at all and your husband, cause we are not divorced yet, sits in your house with your name on the mortgage papers entertaining girlfriends in your dream home in your fancy bed that you bought together because of the painful sciatica you had in the 2nd, 3rd and 4th pregnancies, the bed where you conceived children, the sheets you bought, the blankets your grandmother knitted, the house you made a home, the chicken coop left barren and empty, the yard you tried to beg into submission all left unattended and you brought this all on yourself as you sit lonely and stewing as you sent him away with best wishes and intentions just a few days ago to pursue his life and you think this really sucks.

rant off

I've been holding back.

I've been holding back. I have family, and ex-family-in-law, and friends, and foes, and lovers all reading this thing.

This fucking thing. This blog. It is the dinosaur on my back. I love it so much. The outlet to write. To spew forth. Yet, i have lost it. And tonight. Tonight i am pissed off.

I am pissed off at all the women in their thirties and forties who feel the need to be all boobed up and tightened and highlighted. The men who make this misgiven, mistaken beauty persevere. Ugly eighties porn has become the norm for women who are in their most beautiful, confidant bodies they will ever have search for twenty-something.

Divorce's become desperate, men and women, to go back to who they were in their twenties. Who really wants twenty back? Uncomfortable, unsure, in every single thing you do. Will i succeed? Am i good enough. Am i strong enough. Can i face this world.

In your thirties, whatever your circumstance, you begin to realize that this is it. This is what life is. You can let it all in. Embrace it. The kids, the job, the sex life that matures and becomes boring - ready to be renewed in a thirties body.

And despite whatever i have said - divorce sucks. It really fucking sucks. Starting again. Initially titillating. Quickly becomes another job. Another stress.

And you see yourself out there. And you fancy yourself different. But soon, you are worrying about a life alone. You are not what you thought you might be. You are just another single mother. In a long line of single mothers.

And i am pissed off to be censored, by me, by you.

Each time i hear of another family crumbling. Separating. It breaks my heart a little.

Seven months in to this situation i have only a little perspective. The hardest part is done. People tell me that at least. The initial shock and heartbreak, anger and resentment, hatred and love - having run their course. Like a death. The stages of grief. Losing a family in the way you were used to, it is like a death. The death of a dream of a life of happiness. Children growing, and graduating and blossoming. Adventure and retirement. Slowly growing old together. Becoming bickering and loving elderly couples sitting on the park bench. Giggling, holding hands.

All of those dreams vanish. You attempt to make new dreams. But it is nearly impossible to visualize a future that doesn't exist. That you have no idea who the characters might be. Terrifying. Thinking of yourself old and grey. Sitting alone on that bench.

I don't have any answers to the questions that plague me lately. The worry. Is this what it will be now. Is there something more for me. Will love find me. Give me a tender, wrinkled hand to hold. Someone to share a cup of coffee with on a blossoming spring day.

Please listen to this song.

It has been my theme song lately. I skip around whistling it in my head. It's just one of those things, one of those songs that seems to fit perfectly with your life at a moment.

That's what i love about music. That's why i think i've always been attracted to and attracted musicians. I have such a respect for the talent. The magic of those perfect moments. Sometimes it's at a live show and sometimes it's right in your living room.

I have been introspective lately. Really looking in on myself. Trying to piece together my life. How it all came together as it has. Reflecting not on the negative, but the positive. The friends that have come in and out of my life. The memories that have stuck around. Amazed by the little things i remember.

Small moments in my marriage and my dating life before my marriage where i felt absolute joy. Pure love, brief moments forever etched into my memory. My heart.

I really want my marriage to be something i remember fondly. Something that i can share with the kids. Because it didn't last forever doesn't mean that i want to erase it from my life. I was married to a wonderful man. We had four beautiful children. I will always love him. It just didn't work out. For a multitude of reasons.

But, the reasons don't matter anymore. If i focus and dwell on those i will never be happy. I will never be able to celebrate that period of my life and the bounty it produced.

I will never call him "my ex." It's so shallow. So mean. He will always be shane.

I miss my chickens. Somehow i am focusing on them. The simplicity and beauty of raising farm animals, or poultry. Feeding, cleaning, dealing with the nasty gross stuff. Having something in common to talk with the farmers about. Being a part of the rural farming community. It was the height of domestic bliss for me. Children, chickens, the christmas turkey. A sense of pride in learning how to raise chickens.

Life has been up and down over the past few weeks. Storms have been making their yearly appearance. My old house, shane's house, had a tree fall on the power lines. It left him without power last week and he spent three days camped out on my couch. It was nice. It was hard. Falling into old routines so easily.

It was confusing for the kids. They liked having us all together again. We all liked it. The nights were not so easy. I had many tears. Shane and i were confused and uncomfortable with the new arrangements. It felt odd, going to bed, him sleeping on the sofa. Waking up with him gone.

On friday i had a chance meeting with an old friend. She had so many words of wisdom for me, having been through all this herself. She told me that no matter why this happened, it happened for a reason. All the guilt in the world will not help me.

I realized, finally, that i was dying in my old life. Literally. Something had to change. I made that change happen. I will always regret the way it all came about. But. But, the change, has been incredible. The pride i feel when i walk into my own house. When at the end of every week i know i have provided, all on my own, for my family. When i fall into bed, exhausted, after 14 hour workdays. After all of it. I smile at myself in the mirror. I have been brave. I have never been brave before.

It is always hard when i pick up the kids on monday. The transition from house to house. The emotions.

They always greet me with such enthusiasm. Kisses and love. It rejuvenates me.

I am always exhausted on monday mornings. Having done nothing but work since the moment i drop them off on friday. This weekend it was almost sixty hours of work. A long weekend full of busy restaurants. Families celebrating time together. Remembering loved ones and families lost in battle.

A weekend full of customers wanting to talk, to share their experiences. It is nice to be a part of this theatre. The theatre of dining. I go home and fall into bed. Dreaming of soldiers and children. Nightmares about slow service in the bistro. Spilling soup on clean clothes.

Then i pick up the kids and i want to give them everything i have. But, i have so little. Totally body exhaustion takes over. I find myself face down on the floor. Sound asleep while they play around me. And then begins the crazy week of school and playdates and activities and working still.

It is hard, merging these two lives i have now. Doing it alone. Wanting to share with someone how incredibly tired i am. Someone to help. Someone to tell me it's all going just fine.

I have very little today.

I signed my separation agreement yesterday.

Tonight i burned my copy in the fire.

It is only money.

It is the end of a life.

I threw my wedding ring in too.

It's been a week. The hardest one yet. I'll recap.

The weekend was full of double shifts, long days and long nights. Packing up the condo in my hour between jobs. Stressing about the actual move.

Packing up my stuff from the old house. Remembering the day we moved in, a house full of promise.

A message on my cell phone saturday night saying that eliza had jumped from a high spot and broken her foot. Shane leaving the kids with his mother as he left on a business trip. Remembering our trip to miami last fall.

Trying to call and see how eliza was, calls unanswered, messages not returned. Having to get a friend to call and speak to my mother-in-law to find out what was going on. Hysterical calls from eliza begging me to go and get her. Why did i have to work? Why couldn't i just call in sick and go get her?

Moving early monday morning. Going to the house and having to see my mother-in-law for the first time. Her refusing to look at me. A curt exchange of information about the kids. Leaving my old home half empty.

Unpacking the house in a rush so that i could finally go and see my kids. Pick them up from school. Excited to see the house.

Happy children. Feeling better.

Call from school parent. Wants to meet with me. Asks me to resign as president. Tears flowing. So much work. Years of work left unappreciated. Refuse to resign.

Back to double shifts on wednesday. Kids go trick or treating without me. My wonderful friend brings them to the restaurant to see me and march around in their costumes.

This morning babysitter cancels. Call in sick to day job. Have unexpected day with parker and eliza.

We wander out to get fire wood from the shed and a large buck is there. He stares at us gently and continues foraging right in front of us. We are happy. We feel at home. Our new home is perfect.

I finally found my camera cord and will take pictures this week. Begin writing again. The therapeutic sound of keyboard clacking. Sitting by a warm fire while my kids explore the new home. Become part of the history of this hundred year old home. We can hear the generations of children that have laughed inside these walls.

The promise of a new life with new hope is sitting here. Waiting for me to let it begin.

I have a scarlet letter. That's how it feels. As i wander around the schoolyard, the grocery store. This town is so small.

There's a song on the new Band of Horses album with the line;

"this town is so small
how can anyone not smile
or look me in the eye
or wave as i drive by"

That's how i feel.

I packed up my stuff from my marital home today. I gathered things and knick-knacks. Small, worthless things that hold all the history. I remember when each thing was given, or purchased. How small things made that house a home. Splitting the things up seemed wrong. Taking away the specialness of a family created. Splintering it. Destroying the memory.

My marriage was a good thing. We never really fought. We had a lot of fun together. Created four beautiful children. The last few years were still fine. We just grew apart. My depression created a large hole in the floor. A crevice that grew and grew till the distance between us on the sofa might as well have been a mile. We always loved each other though. I still love him. I always will. I will always cherish the life we had together.

It was. It is hard. I need to do what's best for me. It may not be best for my kids. A family is best. I need to recreate that for them. A different kind of family. Me and them. Him and them. It will be okay. I will be healthier.

Let me tell you about my children. They are amazing. They are giving me strength. The minute i see them i feel my purpose.

All the work. All the writing.

It's all for them.

Trying to find my way, figure my way, through these murky waters.

i never thought i could be so lonely. i never imagined life to be this hard. so free.

freedom is over-rated. under-achieved. over-worked.

i'm tired. too much work. too few kids. the ominous christmas ahead.

I'm off to work, but in love with my new computer. The photo is to prove that i am still alive and lovely in my work blacks. The black suits me just fine.