Our 12 year summer

Summer is my least favorite season. The desert heat and intense sun make it a miserable place to spend three straight months sweating, not to mention it's not tourist season, so business slows down to an uncomfortable low. Like counting every dollar low, but those are why I hated the previous summers. Now I hate summers because it's when my family fell apart.

A 12-year marriage finally collapsed and broke apart. Leaving two innocent and perfect children in the crosshairs. We promised to make it as easy as possible for the kids, but what about for us? I feel completely broken and with no sense of what or who I am outside of being a partner and a father. My therapist recommends trying new things. I've always wanted to learn the guitar, or even try painting. I so desperately desire to throw myself into some creative endeavor and to come out the other side healed or better than before. But honestly, how can I be creative in such a low point in my life?

My ex seems to be thriving, and I want that for her, but part of me is mad, even a little jealous. Why am I the only one having to suffer? It's not that I want her to suffer; I think deep down I just want to know that the last 12 years of marriage meant something to her, like it did to me. It's only been a couple of months since I moved out, so the wounds are still pretty fresh.

I found a place right down the street from the house we shared. I thought it would be good for the kids for us to live so close, but now I'm second-guessing. I still drive by the old house, wondering when the day will come when I will see another person's car in the driveway. I know the separation is the best thing for us, but I still can't get over the fact that I didn't feel enough in the relationship. Maybe it's just my insecurities coming to the surface.

I never expected to feel so lost and alone. Over the years, I stopped saying yes to invites from friends, and after a while, the invites stopped coming. I don't blame them, but now I'm left trying to rekindle old friendships while also trying to make new ones, but in a sleepy desert town, it's like running uphill. I've been spending more time at the bars than I'm used to, on the nights I don't have the kids, the sound of a quiet house sends me into a frenzy. As of now, we share the kids 50/50, so one week on, one week off.

In the off weeks, I feel myself start to slip. I count down the days until they come back to me, and it's not like I can't see them in between, but the evenings alone are the hardest. The routines we've built up over the years are now split in half. I'm working on being ok alone, but on the nights it's too much, I find myself hopping in the car with my camera in hopes to capture a beautiful sunset.

The sunsets in the desert are incredible, the sunburnt orange sky with the silhouettes of harsh and spiky Joshua Trees next to boulders the size of a house is otherworldly. i dont have alot of answers for how the future is going to play out, and to be honest if i spend too much time thinking about it i spiral, but what i do know is that on my evening drives i find temporary relief from my problems, for a short while i feel like everything is going to be ok.