This week was one of the worst since the divorce. It feels like some huge thing has me by the neck and is violently shaking me to the point of exhaustion. An innocuous remark caught me completely off guard. 

Consequently, I am a roiling mess of resentment, bitterness, self-righteousness, rage and self-pity any one of which will suck my soul dry if left unchecked, but I’m too tired to care.

Cindy will call in a couple of hours and ask me how it went today, and did I drink a lot of water, and did I have a nap, and what did I eat other than peanut butter and tortillas? What I won’t tell her is that I’ve been inside all day in my pajamas and a baseball cap. She’ll know nevertheless.

She’ll call me again tomorrow, and the day after that and for as many days as it takes for me to reemerge, wobbling along, back into the fray.

I’m too exhausted to fend off the soul-suckers, but she’s not.