Another difficult night’s sleep. I wake up several times and take a while to get back to sleep each time. I take another Valium, but it doesn’t help as much as usual.
When I finally wake up for good at around 6:30am, I’m seized with an anxiety attack about getting a job. What if despite all my efforts I can’t get one within the next few months? I’m thirty-nine, my resume isn’t particularly glittering, and I’ve been out of the workforce for three years. What if I simply can’t line something up? I know what a key condition this is for the reconciliation, and the vice-like stress grip returns to squeeze my gut full force. My appetite is gone again. I eat nothing today.
Helen doesn’t get home until after 7:30pm. I have already fed the kids, so she eats the dinner I made alone. Afterwards, she seems pretty good. The mood between us is light. We make arrangements to go out just the two of us tomorrow night. It almost feels like old times, but of course that's a mirage which vanishes under the merest serious scrutiny.
Excerpted from Diary Of A Divorce, by Richard Pearce, available for £8.99 from www.amazon.co.uk or for $14.75 from www.lulu.com
