"I told my dad how sometimes you go in the bathroom and cry and you think I don't know. He said that would break his heart."
I hadn't known that he knew about my bathroom time. I thought I was quiet. I am a little annoyed and a little charmed by the idea of him standing outside the bathroom door listening to me in all my quiet desperation.
I've given myself permission to have that time to cry. I think it's important to get all that bad stuff out, to keep it from strangling me. It's also a very closed, private space...me and my bath, all good smelling and warm and cleansing. It feels good to cry and get it out of my guts.
I know it hurts him to hurt me. I know that he knows that I'm crying because of my disappointment with this life we're building, with his failure to help me build. I hate all this knowing.
I won't feel guilty for it, though, as it's real, and it's got to get out.