Have you ever been in your car and looked over and the person next to you was crying? You don’t know why, and you don’t even know them, but you feel like you should do something? You offer a sympathetic smile or wave as you make eye contact before both of you driving off.

Last night, I was the girl in the car crying. I got off the highway and was waiting at a red light, and the tears came. I don’t know what exactly I was crying about, but I became so aware of everyone in the cars around me.

It was not my first car cry. When the girls were in the NICU, sometimes I would get in my car and before I could even start the ignition, I would cry. Total uncontrollable tears that would stream down, and then abruptly stop. It’s almost as if my body can’t hold the emotions in anymore, and just needs to let some out before going on.

When I wrote about my separation, I was flooded with emails, texts, and messages (thank you to those who reached out), and the content was about the same; you are strong, you can do this.

And yes, I can. But strong? That’s what I want you to think. I’m really like a chocolate dipped marshmallow; they look so strong and tough from the outside, but one little crack exposes how fluffy  (and delicious! ) they really are.

I’ve always assumed that if I acted tough and if others thought I was, that it would just start to seep into my skin, deep into my bones, that it would become true. The simple fact is that I’m overwhelmed by emotions and our situation and all the other bullshit that comes with being a parent and an adult. And truth be told, who wouldn’t be? I always see articles about celebrities splitting up and how easy it is and that’s because they have money and a team of people surrounding them and their kids. Most of us regular folks either have to sink or swim. And right now, this marshmallow is going to swim like she never has before.