The Day After

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I woke up hoping to find a new perspective, that things would seem more optimistic with sleep and the light of morning. Instead the mental vomit continues, now seeping into my extremities. I knock over a carton of milk, and walked into a doorway, my body refusing to work. There’s static in all of me: my mind, my fingers, and I’m so exhausted, but I can’t fall asleep.

At the Munich airport I try to board a flight to New York. They tell me I’m at the wrong gate. I stare at them glazed, on the verge of tears, until I realize what they’ve said. I run across the gates until I reach the Denver flight. No one is there. I hold my ticket up to the machine and the doors slide open. I run through, bounce off of a glass wall, and nearly fall down the escalators as they restart their movement under my feet. At the base of the jetway, the last people are boarding the flight. I walk past my seat and then double back to it. It might be the last open seat on the plane.

I felt so strong in the morning before court. I took my time: meditated, worked out, ate breakfast, reviewed the documents, took my time, arrived early. By the time I got home I couldn’t even think straight. I couldn’t even watch a movie or read a book. A high-speed fly apart of someone’s psyche.

It’s nothing bad so to speak. More of the same with small concessions. But I’m the one that wants change, that’s why I’m there. And so more of the same feels like suffocating. I knew things could go well today or they could go poorly, but my blind spot has been stasis. You cross your chest and tell yourself you’re prepared for whatever comes, only to find that nothing coming is a devastation you hadn’t prepared for.

There are some mistakes you carry around with you for a long time. And yeah you can learn from them, and you don’t have to call them regret if that makes you feel better. But in your heart you know if you could go back you would do it differently. Letting my daughter leave Denver without a formal custody agreement is that unequivocally.

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