Depleted

Lately, I haven't been a very consistent blogger, and even writing this first sentence has been difficult. It's not that I don't have anything to say - it's that I have too much. As someone who has always found it easy to communicate what's going on inside, sometimes to the point of over-sharing, this self - imposed censorship feels unnatural and constrictive.

This has been the hardest year of my life, and I don't want to drone or complain or bore you. I don't want to hear myself talk about the painful details - I'm tired of having such a small, inwardly focused perspective.
I feel like I am sitting in a field of injured people, unable to help them because I am still sitting here after nine months with my hand pressed over my own wound. I'm healing, but not fast enough.

So when it's time to write, I am torn. The gaps between my posts are filled with the stories I don't feel like I can tell here. I want to write with honesty or not write at all. I love going to people's blogs and reading their unique perspectives, especially when they have responded to incredible pain with grace. I feel refreshed, and challenged, and hope - infused. What I'm afraid of is that if I write with transparency here, people will not leave feeling those things. I don't want people to walk away from an interaction with me(in person or through reading here) feeling depleted or discouraged.

I also feel strange writing a heavy, personal post one day, and an optimistic one the next. Without all the subtext that happens between, reading can be a jerky experience: Wait a minute? Wasn't she just desperate yesterday? How did she end up dancing in the sand today?

But that's my current reality. It's not comfortable to live in, and it's probably not comfortable to look at. See? Isn't frankness awkward?
In September, my six year marriage ended horrifically.
In September, I got my first real role in a feature film and made enough money to get us through for a few months.

The savings account is empty. I'm broke.

Car-less(except for the next couple of weeks - thanks to Carma for letting Matt go to Germany)

My mom has allowed my children and I to live with her for the past 8 months. This has been both wonderful and difficult. Wonderful because she's here, and we have a great relationship..I love seeing her every day, and watching the girls develop such an intensely close bond with her.
Difficult because it's impossibly tight quarters. Small, small house.
Difficult because I appreciate her generosity but don't want to exploit it. I also don't want to take over her home with our presence - to change the things that make it her haven any more than is inevitable, and that gets harder the longer we're here. Our stuff and habits and schedules are becoming more dominant because of the smallness of the space and the fact that we outnumber her.

I haven't been able to afford filing the divorce papers yet, and once I do, it will take at least six months before it's final. That timeline is daunting - I wish it were just over.

I haven't had any auditions or work since March when filming wrapped on Zorg & Andy, and I can't describe the hunger to learn that I have or the frustration I experience when I'm unable to do what I love.

I have so much to be grateful for, and although I take much of it for granted, I am learning to experience gratitude deeply. It's a side effect of loss, I think: the good things, the irreplaceable things, become dearer to you.

I'm just depleted today.