Okay, so cohabitating and coparenting while being separated isn’t working.

It feels like walking on a tightrope.

It’s okay and helpful and forging ahead when it’s going decent. But it’s also tears and arguing and tightrope walking and reminds me of why we are separated in the first place.

Most of the time it’s me, with no choice but to be en motion, and making the appointments and searching for housing and exploring my options and making the phone calls and and running my business that I’ve never ran before and so there’s a lot of what appears to be-

Me, scooping buckets of water out of a sinking ship.

I am tired.

If I sit still too long or let my mind rest, I become the leaky boat itself, finding myself crumpled over in the front seat of the car, for no reason in particular other than my life is imploding.

And blossoming.

BLOSSOMING.

There are blossoms I didn’t know existed until everything imploded. And there is excitement and hope and if I just keep doing that thing with my feet, one in front of the other, I find that I continue to forge ahead, towards all those blossoms.

When I am weary, and I am WEARY sometimes, I fall back on this soup recipe I acquired from a family member some years ago that continues to be failproof and shockingly easy. I mean, it’s so easy that it’s borderline offensive. Make it as it’s written, don’t get hung up on the lack of alliums (like I did initially), and add extra lime.