I'm having a hard time putting things into words, really. Not a usual complaint, in fact most of the time I need to dial down the verbosity, but sometimes I do get stuck.
Thanksgiving passed by in a whir of Thanksgivinglessness. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. It was a harder holiday than usual, not least because the day before the big turkey day we had a discussion that contained the topic of discussion of leaving. Leaving for a longer term than my 24 hour hotel yearning. Leaving for a term that included a question mark.
And really any dining room table talk that includes the idea of leaving for any length of time is a bad conversation to have.
I guess we hit a new low. Somewhere along the way we had stopped communicating and started resenting. We didn't talk to each other with respect while arguing. We both needed some work. We converged on many layers of upset from many layers of life that piled on the table like a many layered dream coat.
The leaving talk was parked behind the scary shed, a place neither of us want to venture in the dark.
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Helen is the contributing editor for Depression and Borderline Personality Disorder. She also covers Postpartum Depression. She writes daily at Everyday Stranger where she also chronicles life with her twins, Nick and Nora.
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