It’s 5-o-clock in the morning.  Regardless of what time I go to bed, or how I feel, I always wake up at this time.  I decided to stop fighting it.  I’m outside on the patio of my house in the valley feeling the cool morning air caressmy woozy head. I don’t know why everyone hates the valley.  It’s beautiful in the early morning.  And in the late evening.  Just ignore the daytime July through September.

Looking at my kids’ play structure makes me want to cry. Thinking of Team Melton, what we all call our family, makes me sad beyond words. Pretending that we are a happy little family that can spend time together as though nothing has changed since we split up makes me cringe, as it is a recipe for disaster.

And disaster it was. After being plied with too many triggers (food, junk everywhere, wine, no one listening – the list seems endless!) I cried because of how painful it is to pretend. How trapped I felt, how disingenuous. The pressure was more than I could bear, and things were said and done under that pressure that wouldn’t normally be said or done.

Today, now, I accept full responsibility for it all. For being an emotional wreck. For being human. For being imperfect.  For surviving a failed marriage.  I will no longer pretend. To myself. To my ex-husband. To my friends. To the world. And finally to my kids.

Happily ever after isn’t, always. Happy. But it can be manageable. After having pretty much exploded under the pressure of pretense and caused an unknown number of future therapy sessions for my kids, I realize that there is a better way to handle this situation. With grace. And honesty. And compassion for all involved.

The first thing that I am going to do is alter one environment at a time. My home environment first. I am removing all triggers – and finding a better way to deal with them – for at this point exposing myself to messy piles of junk, his stuff still in the house, baked goods, booze, and/or dog poop that hasn’t been picked up in a week, can only be likened to dropping a match on the wick of a firecracker. Once done, it’s best to step back and watch the spectacle.

Second, I will alter my relationship with Keith, my ex-husband. After apologizing to everyone (even myself), I sat on the front porch with him and told him that we need to stop acting like it is anything other than what it is…us, divorced. God that is an ugly word. Never did I ever think I, or my kids, would have to experience the knowledge, the feeling the, the, the what? Shame, disappointment, loneliness of divorce? Of them having two homes, two rooms, a split up life?

Moving forward, we will do our best to handle this situation and each other with kindness and respect. He agreed. We sat on the front porch for a bit. And then I got up. And felt sad. And all of a sudden exhausted from too little sleep. But I also felt lighter and peaceful knowing that some of the pressure had been removed. That we are on the same page. That he and kids and I will still be a team – a team that will find a way to operate and function and still win – even with two home fields.