Breathing

I wake up in the morning, or in the middle of the night, and it feels as though I am holding my breath.  The tightness in my chest, the weight of anxiety, the waiting for the other shoe to drop - it holds me captive.  Until I hear "Mommy...!"  And I ask "what do you need?" and I receive my marching orders for this moment, this space.  The activity, the need keeps that weight and breathlessness at bay.  And when I find myself laughing, laughing because I just dumped milk on the baby's head while holding the phone up to my ear with my shoulder, a can of formula in one hand, a bottle and lid, both, in the other hand, and the baby looks up with his beautiful blue eyes like "what?  I already had a bath today, and it was warm!", and my six year old is standing there, looking at me like I'm nuts  - then I breathe from the depth of my gut because there is no room for anxiety in laughter.
But now, sitting at my computer, the kids gone for the day so I can work, I read an email from him and I want to run.  Run to a place where the world makes sense, where I am not forced to choose between 1) arguing over semantics because the lies are so clever they can't be clearly exposed or 2) swallowing my defense and hoping that eventually "by their fruits ye shall know them" will vindicate me.  Not because I want revenge or for him to suffer, but because I want to carry only the guilt that is truly mine.  
He wants to take my kids away from me, and it appears that he intends to do that by shrouding me with the label of mental illness.  He's telling our friends that I have Borderline Personality Disorder.  He told my son that the devil is making me do this, and not to tell me he said that because it would make me more angry with daddy.  My son can't decide if I'm a bad guy or not.  He's six.  I am thoroughly enjoying trying to parent a kid who thinks I am evil, and because it was his daddy who told him that, also thinks I no longer have authority over him.  Really.  Because this isn't hard enough on my kids already.
So I take a deep breath.  And I look forward to a time and a place where the custody is settled, our life has a routine, and I don't have moments of wishing I could just go home.