As I sit here, watching Scout smirk in her sleep, and slowly open her eyes, I wonder about the choices I've made. I wonder if Sev, her father, understands that just because I feel suffocated, because I need space, does not mean that she does. I encourage his relationship with her. I think it's important that they have a relationship with each other, separate from me.
Sadly, I fear that his priorities are skewed. I am afraid that, with his current insistence that we, collectively, need to spend time together, that Scout is slowly losing the opportunity to get to know her father before stranger anxiety and "I need mama" sets in.
I don't have time. I need time. I need to breathe. I cannot do that when I have to, several times a day, decline invitations to hang out. I cannot do that when he insists that my only option to become less angry is to "get over it."
Here is what I need to say, and I hope I'm able to do this someday soon:
I haven't been able to breathe for so long. I can't be somebody's something every second of every day. There are moments that I need to just be me. I need to stand alone. So do you. I can't be needed by an adult, when I have three children.
I need to know that you are not only able to take the baby one your own, but willing to. I feel like asking to see her, and hang out with me at the same time, is just your single vision way of getting me to go with you. She needs to be enough alone. I need you to put her before me. That is the first step.
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