My friends do not talk like this. I doubt they even think like this. I’ve heard them mentioning more, but they do it in that good, mature way that speaks of acceptance. They’ve all reconciled themselves to the life they have, the life they live.

As Anne said a few weeks back, some days you’re happy, some days you’re not. But in the end this is what you get. This is marriage and maturity, this is motherhood, and this is how it’s always going to be.

And I, who used to think the same and talk the same, have broken rank.

I used to be like Anne, used to be like my other friends. But the divorce changed me. I’m not a caterpillar in a little cocoon anymore. I’ve broken out. If I follow the analogy, I’m a butterfly now.

But what I don’t understand is how in the hell did my caterpillar body become that of a butterfly? How did that fuzzy thick green body become long and slender with wings?

And even if I don’t understand how the caterpillar metamorphosed, the fact is, I am different now. I’ve got these big wings. But no one wants me to fly.

Anne calls the next morning to apologize for coming down on me so hard, but I missed her call because of client appointments. Her voice mail apology is comforting, but I don’t need the pressure from her or the others. Right now I’m stretched damn thin.

And while I’m grateful my career is doing so well, the workload is threatening to suffocate me. I don’t want or need another serious conversation about me, my life, my choices, or my new affinity for Hawaii. I appreciate that my friends want to look out for me. (We’re just protecting you, Jackie.) But if I’d wanted “protection,” I would have stayed married.

Which is to say, if I’d wanted people to boss me around, I’d still be a wife.

My to-do list is a problem, though.

It’s getting out of hand. For the next week, I work far too many hours every day. I’m up early to run numbers and write invoices, stay up late to sketch designs and get my drawings completed. During the day when the kids are in school, I’m booked solid, scheduled so tightly that I’m practically meeting clients every hour on the hour. And I still can’t get everything done.

We’re out of groceries. The kids need to see the dentist. I’m increasingly late for the afternoon carpools. My color needs to be touched up (badly). The laundry is piled a mile high on the laundry room floor. William’s got another book report due and I don’t think he even read the book.