Gestation of a Divorce

It has been nine months of this stretch of evolution. Nine months of experience altering adaption. Suspended from the inside with the rebar of the British 'Stiff Lip' approach to problems. But a big picture like this cannot be held in place as such worlds divide. The crumbling takes time, the three dimensional picture

If that is my way of building up to the point that I crumbled. Crashed and disintrigrated into an emotional snotty mess unable to take any of this circumstance any longer. Balling and sobbing so much that the mechanics of my system becomes incapable of pulling itself back together even after endless hours of well scheduled ( my son's one night away) breakdown.

I have held a nobel head in the small community. Brushing off the astonished enquiries with a 'change is good' philosophy, and avoiding the indebt qualifying of my actions and decisions; or rather my responses to his actions. But holding up a front is exactly that. Holding a vast facade of illusion. Its only now with a little distance that I realize that I was probably doing that all along. Living a qualifying facade. A facade worthy of the efforts to make avoiding my own happiness an option.

But that was then. Now the picture is falling from every dimension. The debris a devistating wasteland that makes the past, every impressionistic colorful morsel, hardly worth it. A sad summary for a perfect love story!