Last post before my holiday - hurt.

That's a witty title for a blog post, isn't it (not)? I'm supposed to leave tomorrow morning for a few days at a health retreat. A bit of quiet, relaxation, massage, exercise, vegan food and no kids. I say 'supposed' because I'm going with other people and sometimes you never know what comes up.

I finished my English lesson this morning and was relieved that it was the last class I'd have to do for a while. I definitely need a rest.

Though, enough of that, we all know I'm tired and I don't need to keep saying so. There's much work to be done. I need to spring clean my room because my mother-in-law is coming to stay and watch the kids. I need to do the housework, shop for groceries and do the washing. I need to pack my bag and oh yes, I need to go to the pharmacy. I probably won't get to post while I'm away, but we'll see. My friends are bringing their laptop with them and I know that place has wi-fi, so if I can get online, I'll blog about it.

Over lunch today I caught one of my favourite movies. Mrs Doubtfire. I love Robin Williams, he never fails to make me laugh. I've loved his wit and spontaneity since the days of Mork and Mindy. But I didn't laugh so much today. In fact, I cried. But not for the movie. I'd forgotten the storyline involves the finality of a marriage break-up. The father gets ousted, not allowed to see his kids and they can't see him. In the big picture of (initially) a very funny movie, you don't notice the break-up so much (at least I didn't) but today it struck a really raw nerve.

I know I don't want my kids to go through this. I don't want them to bear the pain of what is going to happen. Even though we live day to day and the '3 year mark' is still a long way off, I still think about it. That day, in my mind, when we 3 will leave, and the kids will have to say goodbye to their father, who loves them to bits and who they adore. I don't want it. Knowing they will have to do this breaks my heart to no end, a perpetual hurt that lurks beneath the surface and erupts when I am alone and vulnerable. In the past two weeks, it's erupted twice. Pure emotion, that no philosophy or book or 'self-help strategy' has been able to stop. Triggered by scenes on tv, it just comes forth and only stops when there is no more. It is the heartbreak I have for my children and what they will go through when we leave this place. It is not anger, it is not Borderline anything, just sadness and helplessness and regret that things couldn't be different. To my children, I say, I am so sorry papa and I couldn't make it work, so sorry that you couldn't have both of us together. Just so, so sorry.

No amount of reading will temper this feeling. The only way to get through it is to, well.... get through it. Let it come and go. Give it its time and it will pass and the pain will become less. And I will tell my children the same. That it's OK to be sad, because a family breaking up IS sad and it's OK to cry. And if you cry, you can get some of the pain and anger out. And then you can get on with your life, knowing that although your parents can't be together, they love you very, very much, more than you could ever imagine.

And in the quiet of every night, I still wonder to myself, am I doing the right thing?


See you in a bit.