This week I have really been struggling with feeling lonely. Not to be confused with actually being alone mind - as a full-time, round the clock, I am your only source of care kind of a mum I am never alone. In fact, a little alone time - y'know to shower or visit the bathroom unaccompanied - actually sounds quite appealing most days.
But this week the loneliness has really set in. Perhaps it's the cold weather, where I'm craving cosy cuddles and scarf walks around windswept beaches. Perhaps it's looking ahead to Christmas, wondering how the hell I am going to navigate the minefield of my own divorced/re-married/divorced parental situation as well as our first holiday as a family of two. It might have something to do with the introduction I gave myself at my new teacher training course where I admitted that somewhere between being in a somewhat new city, away from my friends and a full-time single parent that sitting in a room full of other people scared the actual crap out of me, especially being that it was the first time I had spoken to another adult in three days. My recently acquired suburban affliction of spying on the neighbours does nothing to help my cause as I watch the nuclear family that live in the house immediately behind mine settle in for a cosy family dinner. They giggle and cuddle entirely too much for a household with three kids under five.
So rather than write reams of semi-poetic longings or listen to this song over and over while my mascara runs - I reach out to the one person who surely understands all this, who must be feeling all these things too. That person I always could turn to, who understood me without having to speak. Reader, I called him. The Ex. Thinking that if anyone could empathise, it would be him. Because he was in this relationship too, and now he's out of it too. And maybe he feels it worse because I still get to be with our beautiful boy every day and he is stuck to fortnightly visitation. And as he carries on a conversation with someone else as I sit on the line and as he complains to me about his job and how he needs a break and tells me about his dinner plans with his new girlfriend I surpress the urge to throw up in my mouth and kick myself for calling him as I'm cooking dinner - now my anxiety is riding high and I know it will be hours before I'm able to eat again.
I slip into the room where my beautiful boy sleeps and I whisper a new realisation, "it's just you and me now kiddo".