Home alone

You've got it right, it's the weekend and we're alone again, without Dad. I'm becoming somewhat resentful of the hours and hours and hours he spends at work. At first I started feeling sorry for our children, because they too, appear to be growing up without their father around. I tried at one stage to ensure that time with Dad, when he was at home, was just that; the kids time with Dad and I would take a back seat. Later on I began to feel that something is missing in "us", a distance that just keeps stretching wider and wider.

The "somethings missing" feeling turns into "somethings wrong" feeling, when you reach the point, that even when he is around, you find you have nothing to say to him and any ramblings on about my day to day existence is often dismissed as "bitching". I think the term refered to my life at present is cabin fever. I am not sure what is worse, the fact that this phenomenon exists or the fact that it actually has a name.

I have come to understand the term "even when in a room filled with people, I feel so alone". I try to keeps my spirits lifted and focus on the children but there are those days where even Barney's "we're a happy family" can't fix it and the teddy hospital can't heal the wounds or the hurt and scars they leave behind.

I do understand that supporting a family is a tremendously stressful task in today's age and he does do his utmost to make sure there is food on the table every night and day and for that gift, I am extremely grateful to him. I wish he would see that the gift of love, affection, and most importantly, his time is just as important, yet, somehow seems to elude us.