I didn't sleep or eat agin, I try but I feel so sick with loss. I drift off to sleep and forget, when I wake, soon after, I imagine he is lying there next to me..but he isn't. I feel like half of me is missing. The world is just noise and greyness I am tumbling down a deep hole. I get up very early and take the dogs along the canal to the sea. The salty air smells like my tears..which never cease.Everywhere are reminders of our long stoned walks. this is my favourite time of year when the banks are fat and green with foxgloves and yarrow and everywhere buzzes with life, but it feels desolate. I go to work I cry because the printer won't work. I tell my colleagues not to expect too much from me at the moment. It feels better to be out of the house.
Then he phones. My heart knocks so hard I feel it might burst. He says he is sorry, so sorry, he cries. He says he's sober, I believe him, I want to believe him. He says all the right things for once..that he can't hurt me anymore so he must try and sort himself in a place of his own. He recognises a lot of what he needs to do to get to the bottom of his pain and depression. But we can't be together, so I cry. Though I know he's right. I do too much for him. I am happy because it is really the healthiest solution. We agree to take the dogs out together tomorrow night. I can't wait to see him, I ache for him even though I know he isn't mine, never was.
I feel positive, like I can go on, even if we are just good friends. I manage a little lunch. Fork to mouth and
my friend Klee rings, he says the Poacher has just been round to his. he has told him that he is still drinking a bit, but can handle it.
Everything whites out for a moment.
He is still sitting drinking with that stupid bitch. Why does no one in this town understand what being an alcoholic is ? What it means? Have they never seen him go in a toilet with bottle of whisky down his keks and crawl out on his hands and knees five minutes later ?
Now it makes sense - he hasn't suddenly gained wisdom...he doesn't want to come home because now he has somewhere he is allowed to live and drink...until of course he quickly gets very messily out of control....
He is just trying to con me into remaining a possible means of support...and to get me to let him have Roma-if he is drinking-over my dead body. My dogs are my life. He has never fed them nor taken them to the vet. If I find out he is lying when I see him tomorrow, then it really will be the end of us even as friends.
Maybe I really am so unlovable that I can drive even homeless, desperate people away.
This is so draining..when will I be able to let go?