I knew Christmas was going to be difficult. What I hadn’t realised is it’s actually the days in between, when everyone else is doing other things, when family have gone home and the kids are with their Dad (as they should be), that were going to be the killer. And they so are.
It’s been a really really bad day. I didn’t sleep well, and couldn’t really wake up either – a world of nightmares and sleep paralysis. I hadn’t made any plans for the day as I wanted to be free if Matt’s girls could get away, so I just dozed on and off and watched the time tick by. I’d just about given up on that, and was heading up to the pub to escape how I was feeling here, when they managed to get away. And we got to catch up briefly and exchange gifts and the like, which was lovely…and then they had to go, so I went over to the Oakhouse for another drink in my usual corner, because I couldn’t face coming back home to an empty house and all that goes with that. I was scared to. Luckily Mark rang me, so I had someone to talk to for a bit which, since he gets it, was good. But I still didn’t want to go home.
But I did. What else was I supposed to do? And here I am. And I am so fucking lonely. It doesn’t matter what I do, or where I go, there’s no changing how things are. Sure, I used to live on my own, I even had Christmases on my own. But that was my choice. I didn’t exactly love it, but I was used to it, and it was ok. Now it’s not. Now it comes with a massive void in it, a gaping hole. I didn’t choose to be on my own, but I am. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. There’s no-one to share either the good or bad days with. There’s no-one to talk to. He’s not here, where he’s supposed to be. There’s just absence, and missing, and wanting, and wishing… There’s no point to any of it. It’s all just about getting from one day to the next. And I guess it’s nearly tomorrow now so, you know, job nearly done. But it’s not exactly living is it? It sucks. It hurts. And I’m not going to pretend otherwise.