A couple of weeks ago, I managed to get my act together and go to church. I had lots of people offering me their sympathy and help and although it is very nice, its also very difficult to have people being so nice to you when you feel so wretched.
In our church we refer to each other as 'Brothers and Sisters' so when a very sweet but unsuspecting missionary walked over to me at the start of sacrament meeting and boomed 'Hey Sister Beattie, how are ya and what's been the highlight of your week so far', Its fair to say, that was exactly the wrong thing to say.
I think my mouth opened and closed a few times and nothing came out which is really just as well, because in my head, all I could hear was "I FOUND OUT THINGS ABOUT MY HUSBAND THAT NO WIFE WANTS TO HEAR, AND THEN HE LEFT ME. YES !!!! THAT HAS DEFINITELY BEEN THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY WEEK"
Instead, I burst in to tears and fled the scene. I can't decide if its better when people know, or when they don't. I am quite clearly not my normal self, which inevitably prompts some questions (mental note to apologize to the lovely Mummy who asked how I was doing as we waited on miniature chairs outside our children's classroom on parents night).
My saving grace is my son. I need to keep my act together for his sake. Being 5 years old he is mostly oblivious to the finer details of our life changes. He knows we are moving, and once his Daddy had seen where we were moving to he was pacified enough. One day at a time is all I can manage right now.
Testing out the carpets in the new apartment.
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