Whether you reconcile or go your separate ways, at some point during the rollercoaster ride of separation, you start asking yourself terrifying questions.
For kicks.
Here’s a sampler: “What if I never have kids again?” or “What if I die alone, while my kid is with her dad, and no one discovers my body for days?”
Hello, my name is Kat, and I have my own Crazy-Making Inner Monologue.
What is support? Why does everyone have advice to give? And when do you draw the line when things start to feel, well, yucky, for lack of a better word?
I’m not wearing my wedding ring and it feels very strange.
The truth is I haven’t worn it in weeks, but it’s only now, looking at Hubs’ bare hands that I feel odd. Somehow when he removed his, it got me looking for mine. Like I have to visually confirm its absence.
Sometimes I still feel its imprint and my thumb darts across my palm searching for the thin bands on my fingers. It’s like having a ghost appendage.
