Hey, there. Been a while since I just pulled up my chair to talk. Figured it was about time.

Life has been busy- as in a constant buzzing circle of activity there is little escape from. 

Emotions have been messy-as in spilling like runaway grape juice on a white countertop.

Not that all is some nightmare or something. 

My sweet girl is bouncing back to her sunny self-in spirit if not yet on her feet.

She sings a lot. Always been my day brightener. My songbird.❀

And I know she deserves every ounce of me right now.

Yet, the sheer load is crushing my shoulders some days…

Particularly, on the days someone else I love gets cold…

Unkind. Snippy. Judgmental. Impossible to please.

I want to shout, You were the one who was supposed to get me! 

But, it only makes things worse when I do.

And I don’t entirely blame him, I guess. 

I, after all, was supposed to be the one who gets him!

Sadly, neither of us seems to get the other much these days.

Or, my nagging fear is, maybe we actually do. 

For the first time deep-down do.

And it’s a bitter disappointment.

Oh, we were never traditional fairytale, anyway.

Some sigh at our serendipitous meet-up story. I would share the whole spiel, but, I just don’t have the energy. Plus, the whole anonymity bit.

But, yes, it was sweet. Two wounded Aspie souls finding one another in an ugly sea of cruel humanity…

But, truly, it’s also been lots of scrabbling since we met. Hard. Dirt-poor, tearing-out-of-hair, head-butting hard.

Honeymoon period? Not much to speak of. Really didn’t have the luxury. Second-timers, both of us. 

Ready-made family and all that jazz they make cutesy TV movies about.

But, I don’t want to pretend we are the only ones. I know we aren’t.

And I know well that life is naturally just different than film.

But, geezalou.

I did anticipate a togetherness I increasingly do not feel.

Our minds don’t seem to converge even as well as they did in the beginning, as imperfect as it was.

He nitpicks. He badgers. 

I try and I fumble. The kids scramble and grow fearful ( not of fists, as in my own childhood days, but of words thrown out harshly.).

I swallow my hurt till I can’t anymore. It spews out and I wound him as he is wounding me.

But it doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t seem right.

I’ve been here before. I don’t want to go back.

Especially not with him. 

Because there is such an incredible, admirable side of him I love dearly.

A part I fret is fast being lost to me as he sees more of the unpalatable parts of my heart.

Sometimes,  I hate to admit, I get that old-fashioned run-before-he-can instinct.

But, I know it would solve nothing.

Not to mention leave quite a trail of broken hearts.

So,  where I have no sure answers, all I know to do is keep pressing through and hoping for better days.

Perhaps, the stress will fade and we will be more in sync…