I've cried at the bar.

Like REALLY cried at the bar. 

Sometimes I get a little sad. Surprisingly, less often than I expected. I guess that tells me that separating from Sev was really the right choice for our lives. I remember when my ex-husband and I split up, I was SAD. Really, really sad. 

So, I cried. I sobbed. In public. At a bar. I was that girl. 

Openly expressing those emotions, without feeling ashamed or embarrassed that I was feeling them was so freeing. I released the sadness, and accepted the love that surrounded me. And I felt good. 

Usually, though, when I get sad, or dejected, it's due to memories. Memories of my late godson, or things that make me remember him. In that instance, I try to remember the good. I put our love in perspective. I remember the smiles. I go back to embrace my feelings. 

For all of my standoffish bluster, I embrace my own feelings well. I just choose to keep them to myself, for a variety of reasons. 

When I'm just feeling generally dreary, I'll play with all the children, or watch them play together. They beat my heart. Coming home from work to find Huck snuggled on the couch with Scout warms my little grinchy heart. "Mom, she was crying, and she wanted to sit with me." How do you say no to that? You don't. You snuggle the little munchkin back into her bed, snuggle the big boy into his bed, and tell everyone that you love them until the ends of the earth. And you sleep peacefully. Because love is what we live. 

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