This feels like a rollercoaster that I definitely don't want to ride. I have moments of normal life, bursts of energy and then paralyzing sadness. I'm feeling the latter right now.

I don't want to be in this damn house! And I don't want to leave. I feel guilty, guilty, guilty. Guilty that the boys are stuck here with me. Guilty that I put him in jail, even though I didn't cause his anger. Guilty for not trusting God. Even though I know he's the only one who can make it better. Guilty that I've made my suddenly old parents endure a shitty son in law for 14 years. And the grief I've put them through because I decided to love him. And forgive him. And marry him, twice.

It's all so surreal. Last week it was bliss. The week before that was anticipation. The week before that was masking my own pain with booze. And the week before that was misery & pain. I'm back to a misery & pain week, but of a different kind. This one is heartache.