What would be normal everyday interactions are so very painful. Even when we manage to interact without any emotional drama, keeping it entirely logistical and business-like, it's still so indescribably hard. Especially when he smiles. That's the worse. It's awful when he smiles and it's unbelievably irritating when he looks like a sad puppy dog. That one just pisses me off. Which I realize isn't fair to him, because that doesn't leave him many options for expression that won't upset me, but I don't need to be fair right now.
I think my goal is to be able to stand beside him at Number One's bar mitzvah and have all my energy going into pride and joy at his accomplishment and none of my energy going into my self-absorbed pain over the loss of the family that I believed in. I have three and a half years to accomplish that emotional transformation. To become that iridescent grateful butterfly, not sad and angry because I'm no longer a caterpillar, but happy with where I am. Seems like a Herculean task.
The other night he put up on Facebook a few beautiful pictures of the boys from their night together. Stunningly gorgeous photos of our sons. And yet seeing them just filled me with anger and sadness. How proud I've always been of his photography. I have loved the way he captures the spirit of our boys. And now, the pictures are just hurtful. Perhaps more so because they were taken in the other house. In a new bunk bed and in the different setting that so clearly isn't their life with me. Perhaps it wouldn't have been quite as painful if they were in a park, but I don't know.
Maybe the photos should be another goal. To be able to enjoy his pictures again without pain, even when they are of times I'm not with my boys. He took some pictures of the boys for Mother's Day and they put them in a frame for me. I have yet to hang them. They're too tainted, nor are they the best pics, compared to so many others.
Ok, enough moping. It's 10:15 at night and after two games this evening, I need to figure out how to get grass stains and dirt out of baseball pants. It will doubtlessly be midnight again before I get all my chores done.