Absence & worry

Well, I haven't updated in a while, and I apologize to those of you who use this blog to 'keep tabs' on mama. Unfortunately, my world just took a huge turn onto it's ear. For those of you who wish to continue viewing mamahood as a pillar of strangth and angst, it's best you not read the rest of this entry.
Rick and I have decided to split. Actually, I decided to split, he's just forced to have to cope with that. It's been a rough week, as I finally found a place after a chaotic search, and will be moving in this week hopefully. It's a small place, just a little two bedroom. But I guess it will suffice for a mama and her boy doing their best to start things over and make the best of a really rotten world.
The stress and pain have been exhausting. I've barely eaten over this last week, and have thrown up so many times the porcelain god might be thinking this is a bit of overkill. His pain is oppressive, and my own I can hardly find a moment to face because I don't want him nor the wee one to see. This is something I have to do, but every step of it feels like I am walking across glass.
The worst, of all, is the concept of myself as a mother. I myself came from a 'broken home'. I don't know if what I hold within me was ever resentment towards my parents for that, but I can't help wondering if my son will hate me for this down the road. Being a single parent is no easy feat. Part of me feels that I've already gone through it, as I've shouldered our son's care completely since day one. But now, knowing what I will put him through is devastating. I only wanted to be a good mother to my son. I wanted to provide everything for him. So that beautiful smile that greets me everyday wouldn't know what it ever meant to go without.
I turned on a saved episode of the Wiggles on the Tivo box this evening and had the jarring realization that I wouldn't be able to afford cable in the new place. I've been desperately searching the internet for cheap DVDs so that I can always watch him dance and sing along to those grating songs in my new much smaller living room. If I could work three jobs while he slept so that he'd never know I was struggling to pay for a birthday party I would. I suppose every single parent faces that.
It is also crushing to know I am causing rick pain. Despite everything he's put me through, and done (or not done), he's still a human being, and the father of my child. If I could go through life and never cause a soul anguish I would be a happy woman, and seeing his anger and hurt is driving me to my own breaking point. He'll follow me from room to room, lashing out with it, and I keep it inside, and then quietly go throw up because the knots in my stomach finally wanted to unravel.
And then I pack my things and iron my clothing for work the next day. Work...ah, work. At least I have an outlet. A feeling of accomplishment that at the end of the day, I earned a paycheck, and that's one checkmark off of the now huge list of things on mama's mind.
So I worry.
I worry that I won't be able to afford rent.
I worry that I won't be able to afford the babysitter.
I worry that to ensure my son has every ridiculous goody Gerber makes, I will eat Top Ramen for the rest of my natural life (which will, of course, be drastically shortened by the amount of sodium in that shit).
I worry that I could be selfish enough to think that.
I worry that Anthony will see me cry.
I worry that Anthony won't see me cry, and think I am a cold and heartless bitch for leaving his father.
I worry that the stress of all this is making me lose weight, and I'll be ugly.
I worry that the stress of this will keep me from being a damn good salesperson, and I won't be able to pay rent and my bills, and that I'll go from top ramen to food stamps.
I worry that if I have another rupture, no one will be there to help me.
I worry that I will be too tired to play with my son.
I worry that I won't be strong enough, and my son will see me weak.

I worry that being alone means so much to me, I won't want to be with another person.

I worry that rick will give up, and go back to Kentucky and leave me to be the mother and the father.
I worry that I won't be a good mother or a good father.
I worry that I am not a good person.
I worry a lot. And then I throw up, and I go to bed. I have one more week in this house, and although I will be taking the computer, I won't know if I can afford internet access until I move. Here's hoping I can do a few things right.