I am a writer, writing my life as it happens.  My mode of writing is this blog.  It is real life, written as it happens.  When you write, this is called transparency – in other words you aren’t hiding behind a shield of made up bull, pretending life is all perfect, or exaggerating how bad it is – you just write it as it happens.  Bloggers must walk a fine line when it comes to documenting reality, because it isn’t just your life you are putting out there.  Every day has meaning, every day I have interactions with family members and friends.  These interactions are what shape me, they are the highs and lows that find their way onto these pages.  I try my best to remember to use code names so that I am not exposing my subjects to the scrutiny of the general public.  I think I do a pretty good job.  However, when you write about your personal life, those who are involved can decode your writing and see clearly when they are your chosen material.  One blogger that inspires me is writing about how she was a closet alcoholic – the perfect mom and wife on the outside, dieng to get that first drink of the day on the inside.  She is living out her acknowledgement of her alcoholism, and her daily battle to fight the disease, at http://theextraordinaryordinary.blogspot.com/.   I hope I can tell my story with the openness and dignity with which she is telling hers.

This week has been full of ups and downs.  The ups have been helping my son buy his first truck, and enjoying having him become more involved with school and with me.  Another exciting plus was a good visit with my daughter’s GI surgeon, and finding out that it is a go to have the final surgery to get rid of her ileostomy. The downs are the continued weirdness of a relationship that is no more, but has the main characters continuing to co-habitate.  It is hard to try and maintain a daily routine, when my mind is all a jumble.  It is also hard to keep an even keel with my attitude, when everyone is angry and resentful, as much as we all try and fake it to get by.  I find that every day the thin veneer I have coated myself in is growing thinner, and it is harder to not be angry at nothing.

In between the ups and downs are the just plain “awkwards.”  Last weekend, I took Troll Baby to see her aunties and cousins at her cousins first birthday party.  Her dad had other plans and was unable to attend.  Half the people at the party (who are all family of Troll Baby’s dad)  have no idea that we are no longer together.  To avoid awkwardness, the aunts and I just pretended.  The people I hadn’t met, they introduced me to as his girlfriend.  I guess that is better than be introduced as “B’s” Baby Mama.  When people asked why he didn’t come, I just bit my tongue and mumbled an excuse.  I was glad I went, Troll Baby had fun and so did my seven year old, and Troll Baby’s aunties made me feel like I am still family.  And yet, it was awkward.

This weekend, Troll Baby’s dad is recovering from a voluntary procedure.  This leaves me in the role of caregiver, and as a friend I am happy to do it.  Yet, it sets my teeth on edge.  Why do it now, weeks before you move out?  Just so you have someone to take care of you?  Then I think, “Are you retarded Michelle?  Of course he wouldn’t think like that, he’s a guy, he just didn’t think.”  So for the past two weekends, he has gone off to enjoy himself, and this weekend I get to take care of him, and next weekend is Valentine’s and I am just trying desperately to think of somewhere to take the little kids so I can pretend I am not a single mom whose life currently sucks.

So next Sunday, weather willing, I think I will find a beach.  Not sure what beach, just a beach where a single mom can go and hear her kids laughter, hoping it drowns out the sound of failure that rings in her head.  If I get lucky, maybe those beautiful children will heal a little piece of my heart while they are at it.

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