Wintertime

We didn’t win the White House Easter Egg roll lottery. What else is there? I feel like a stay-at-home mom lately. I’ve been working remotely for like a month, and on the days I’m not working remotely, it’s because it’s snowing and the whole city has shut down.

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Sometimes I get up and get dressed like, “Today is the day I’m going to go outside and go to work.”

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…and then my kid throws up all over me, so I change into something that I’m more comfortable with being covered in his vomit. (Sorry, PIRG.)

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Sometimes we spend the whole day at the doctor’s office.

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…but mostly we stay in bed.

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After awhile, Max was like, “I’ve had it, lady! I’m out of here!”

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…but then it turned out he hates the snow as much as I do.

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Sometimes working from home is tough. (Especially when you’ve got this face telling you it’s playtime.)

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…but we stay highly caffeinated

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and spend an obscene amount of time at Rustik when we need to get out

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and once in a blue moon, we take the Acela Express train to New York at the crack of dawn to work from there.

I guess that’s how we ended up at my last post, which I’ve been struggling to follow up. What can I say to make myself sound less angry? More mature? Less hurt? More forgiving? Worst of all, why do I feel so ashamed and so guilty for feeling this way? I think that it’d be easy for me to let go if I’d just stay away. There’s nothing for me back there, and I know it, and I’ve known it for a long time. But I go back, and I hate it, and I hate myself for it every time. A year or two goes by, and I stay away. So much time passes that I start to feel good about the situation, almost. I start to feel happy, stable, at peace. That’s how I end up back at square one. I tell myself, “Wow, I feel a lot better about the situation. Therefore, the situation is better.” Only to go back and find that nothing has changed. Of course nothing has changed. Why would I think otherwise? And even if things had changed, it’d never be enough. Things are only better for me because I’m away. I know that, but I tear myself apart by going back again. I think that’s why it’s important for me to write this stuff down. It’s not a bad habit, except in these cases, but I tend to block out the bad and focus on the good. My world is all sunshine and rainbows, like there is no rain. I need to remind myself why I’ve stayed away to keep myself from going back again, because when I go back, I’m just setting myself up for disaster.

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