Holding Back the Tears

I have been feeling so introspective and weepy today - although the tears are as yet unshed.  They seem to be stored like a giant weight behind my eyeballs and in the back of my throat, making it difficult to focus and hard to breath.

Subversive Mum, who only arrived in Chicago in August and who became my new BFF in September, is leaving in just over 2 weeks to return to the UK and I cannot bear the thought of having to say goodbye to her.  She has been a saving grace these past few months.  What am I going to do without her?  Who am I going to play hookey with after school drop off?  Who will make me inhale cappucino foam through my nostrils while debating Dirty Cock/Clean Cock over the latest barista / shopper / celebrity / comedian?  Who is going to make me hoot loudly with insane laughter from her incisive, snarky wit and a second later cause me to nod my head sagely at our shared views on motherhood, love, life, the universe, everything?

I so don't want her to go.  I don't want to be left.  Again.

I am also feeling incredibly nostalgic about my ex right now.  Is this just the knock on effect of Christmas looming, or is this real?

He invited me to go to the circus with him, the boys and his mum on Sunday and we had a fantastic day.  For the first half of the show ex and I sat together and shared the bliss of watching the delight and incredulity flit across our sons' faces as they sat enthralled by acrobats, elephants, horses and clowns.  It was all I could do to stop myself draping my hand across his knee, as I used to do, and I had to fight the urge to hold his hand.

Afterwards we took the boys to see the Santa Express - a special underground train where every carriage is lavishly decorated in tinsel and lights and one of the carriages is a flatbed which holds Santa on his sleigh, with several life-size model reindeer.  There is a strategy to riding the Santa Express, as I discovered from ex.  At every stop you change carriages, collecting striped candy canes from Santa's helpers along the way.  By the time you have reached your destination you are in the carriage next to Santa - so when you alight you are able to stand by Santa and wave him goodbye.  It was fun.  Ex was lighthearted.  We laughed and all had a good time.

And then the boys and I went home.  Alone.

I can't work out if I am still in love with him.  Or just in love with our family.  Which is a completely different thing.  At this moment in time it feels as if I am still in love with him.  Part of me still can't see a future with any other man in my life - in my children's lives.  But I can't trust my emotions, my judgement where he is concerned.  I am seeing fleeting snippets of the man that I fell in love with all those years ago yet can't be sure if I am looking on with rose-tinted glasses, rather than the magnifying glass of mistrust and judgement and criticism that I used just before I left.

When we separated last year, ex wanted to make one last go of it.  Just before we were about to move into our separate houses he wrote me a long letter, asking for one last chance.  And I said no.

At that time, I was exhausted from the ups and downs of the previous two years.  I felt I loved him, but was not in love with him.  Knew I still had love for him but that we had been so incredibly miserable for such a long time that love no longer seemed to be enough.  Was sure that he was just scared of losing his children and would say anything at that point to keep them with him.

I wanted him to be dreading losing me...not just his children.

And here we are, just over 12 months later.  The magnifying glass of mistrust, judgement and criticism has gone and all I can see is a man who has become the most amazing father.  Who has forged the most incredible bond with his sons and who exudes a confidence in being a dad that he didn't have before.  A man who is still breathtakingly smart and a bit of a wise-arse.   A man whose wardrobe has come on leaps and bounds.  A man who could have been a complete git where I was concerned, but by and large hasn't.  A man I have come to respect and admire all over again.

Do I love him?  Or don't I?

And does that really make any difference anyway?

It seems way too big a step to tell him how I feel.

What if I am wrong?  What if I am just deluded by nostalgia and Christmas and clowns?  What if he feels the same way...and we try again...and fail again?  I don't think I could put our children through that.  We have so many issues that I am still not convinced we have the ability to tackle, much least resolve.

So I will admit here, to a bunch of strangers, that I still love him.  And miss him.  And that the thought of us not sharing a life together still makes me weep with a longing that continues to take me by surprise.  But this isn't some Mills & Boon romance.  I am not living in a Hollywood RomCom where True Love wins out every time.  

And so the person most entitled to this information will remain in the dark.

And I will remain feeling tearful and pretend that this isn't on my mind, as I continue to get on with my life.