Prompt Challenge Day 1: My Current Relationship

Prompt Challenge Day 1: My Current Relationship

I ran across this 30 day challenge and thought it would be a good place to start this blogging adventure. I have no idea where it originated. Perhaps I’ll look into it…but I’m afraid if I promise too much here I’ll never actually WRITE. I’m striving to put as much down as I can in ten minutes, with little to no editing. Depending on my day, I may or may not come back to tidy things up later, but either way, I’ll have some sort of post for thirty days straight. Here we go:


I once believed in soul mates.

I thought Gil was mine.

We celebrated (and I use that term lightly) sixteen years of marriage this month.

We detest each other.

If I’m honest, and trust me, it’s painful to put my feelings into words, I’m not sure we’ve ever been happily married.

I’m here because I’m emotionally spent and two kids later I’m not sure I have it in me to be a full-on single mom. I doubt myself in many ways and more than anything I want what’s best for my children.

What is that exactly?

Is it better for them to have two parents living in the same household?

It’s not your typical war zone, but it’s hardly pleasant when we’re both home — a rarity at best.

We HAVE separated in the past. I rather enjoyed our separation, but he is more about staying together than I am.

I’m trying for the kids.

I want peace and have no hope for any of it as long as we are married.

My former therapist once said, “The reality is that if you guys can’t communicate now, things will be a million times harder on that front if you divorce.”

Obviously I’m paraphrasing, but that was the gist.

This morning was a train wreck. All we had to do was get our children to the aquatic center for a swim meet by 7:45. It sounds simple enough.

Gil had a gig last night after work. He plays guitar and base and though he no longer is a regular in a band, he’s searching for the right fit.

Before he left last night I asked him to not drink too much so he could at least help me get them there. Yes, that might have been rude or unnecessary, but Gil is prone to drinking too much, especially when he’s playing music.

My clock went off at 5:45; both kids were in my bed, and there was no sign of Gil. I found him on the couch and the entire room wreaked of stale alcohol. Maybe my warning turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy. (end of 10)


Who’s the Prophet Here?

Who’s the Prophet Here?

Creating more ideal circumstances is a theme.

A prophecy?


Or is it, perhaps?

Why then, am I stuck?

Don’t ask if you don’t want the answer.

It’s that prickly, painfully colorful burst.

The inner reality that you of all people don’t want to know.

You like fluidity.

He likes concrete.

You long for meditation but avoid it because if you allow yourself to know you must act.

Procrastination feels safer.

Yet not acting IS acting, damn it.

She calls to you on the riverwalk as you move your legs faster, eyes downward.

She knows.

And your awareness of this fact makes you shiver.

Another year.



Less of you.

More of him.

Listen to her.

You’re the only one who truly knows.


***This is in response to a prompt on The Daily Post.