I am at that gin induced point of exquisite misery and lucidity.
Trying hard for one week cannot turn around a relationship that’s been failing for years. I feel guilty that I can’t be bothered to try, because I just want out. Just want to enjoy life with my children, and move on. And I don’t ever want to get to the stage of angry and bitter as the friend I’ve just spent the evening with.
There has to be a middle way.
This is my boy and his dad, in the pub earlier.
I love this picture, because it shows how they fit together. We don’t fit together any more, but I can still be glad about the two of them. I wish he’d see that.