There’s a Crack in Everything: Holding My Shit Together

CHAPTER 4

My ex and I had, and still have, equal shared custody of our sons. During my depression, on the alternate weeks I had the boys, I worked especially hard to hold it together. Literally and figuratively. It was nice having their energy and their presence in the house, a respite from the isolation, and it gave me a little sense of purpose.

But they knew. I mean, hell, my eyes were always red, I was constantly blowing my nose. Doing laundry, planning and executing meals, simply trying to mute my…