Alone, at last!

It's Saturday morning. I slept in for the first time in what feels like forever. There was no one here to wake me. Silence is blessed to me.

Not so for E, who lost it last week and screamed that he hated silence. That was new. He doesn't usually lose his temper, but it made me realize that he holds a lot of anger in, which worries me. The fact that he hates silence also worries me . . . because it underlines our basic lifestyle incompatibility. I've known this for a long time . . . but if it is wearing on him as much as it is wearing on me . . . then something has got to change before we destroy each other. Ah, marriage. Lovely, isn't it?

Here I am a year-and-a-half in and I feel half-out already.

I watched Stepmom on Netflix last night, and that didn't help much. It did address some of the stepmom challenges, but it was just a weepy at heart, and not at all realistic. As absent as E's ex is . . . she's not dying. I'm not replacing her in any way and don't want to. The problem with the kids is how to co-exist with me and their dad.

I don't miss them. Ugg. I'm just so glad not to have to deal with them for a while. It is always so stressful and makes me feel terrible. Awful, but true.

Mothering is so rewarding. Stepmothering is a trial.

I do wish the stepmother group I tried to start had worked. It didn't. Maybe I'm the only stepmother in this region who needs to rant.

I'll channel my frustration into fiction, I've decided. I've started something . . . and will continue writing to see where it goes. My play is on hold for the moment . . .

There must be a way to sort through all of this without imploding. I've imploded far too much already.