We're All Going On A Summer Holiday...

Well, the suitcases are stuffed to the brim - going against all intentions of 'packing light'. And in three hours I will be in a car on my way to the airport with two over excited children and one, possibly grumpy, ex.

I feel unexpectedly terrified about this trip.

It's not the thought of the travel, though the prospect of the overnight flight doesn't exactly fill me with joyful anticipation.

It's not the thought of having the boys 24/7 for a whole month, because I know that I am going to be surrounded by the people that I love the most in the whole world and that there will be many days when I probably won't see the boys for dust.

So what is it then?

I think it is a reflection of the fact that this is my first official trip home with the boys as a single parent. And the first time I will have seen many of my friends since our split last November (although, bless them, they had all experienced our suffering for at least 2 years prior so it wasn't as though it was a surprise). For the past 9 months I have soldiered on - sometimes coping well and other times, not so much. Because I have had to. Because there isn't anyone here who can pick up the pieces if I fall apart. Essentially it's down to me to keep this family going and to ensure my boys are protected as much as possible by life's cruel turns.

And part of me so wants to give up putting on a brave face and reassuring everyone that I am okay, that this situation really is for the best, that we are all doing great given the circumstances. Part of me just wants the opportunity to express all the uncertainty and vulnerability that I truly feel inside - and know that there will be people there to catch me if I do fall into a snivelling, snot producing heap.

So that's why I am terrified. I am terrified of both falling apart. And of not falling apart. Of both showing my true emotions and of keeping the dam walls intact.

But either way, I know it won't really matter. Because I will be home.