After the kids went to school, Christian and I took Butterfield and a few tennis balls over to the river and Chris threw the balls and Butterfield gave chase while I hung on and slid for what seemed like miles. Squealing the whole way.
Christian says I am very easy to entertain.
He also was proud of me, I've been dealing with a lot (extra) lately and doing really well. I got a hug and then a dozen more, as we haven't spent a lot of time together lately. But really if I could stuff Chris in a jar and keep him on a shelf in my house I just might. He gives the best hugs in the world. Somehow he utilizes every muscle in both arms; instead of being encircled within a halo of elbows and hands, he simply squeezes the bejesus out of me.
So maybe I'll fill you in a bit more as we go along here. I've been a bit hesitant to talk about certain things because of the rampant armchair judgment and distance diagnosing going on. And because I was never really clear before on exactly how many people are standing by waiting for me to fuck up and how awful that feels when I'm just trying to do the best I can. It's one of the very few times I wished I had never shared my thoughts publicly and I just...I don't know, I just want you to come and read and feel and then write to me if you want to but not as my therapist or my conscience or my big sister or brother. Lord knows I have enough of those and they squeeze from all directions.
Thank goodness I love hugs. Even internet ones.
