At Breaking Point

That was yesterday. Today is a much better day. Just for a hour or two yesterday, I felt like I could take no more of the crap life dished out to me.

My son who’s been unwell since December has finally been diagnosed with Glandular Fever. The blood test came back positive, just before Christmas, but I missed the doctor’s email and the lab result and the doctor didn’t follow it up with me in our subsequent visits. I am still dealing with the aftermath of last Sunday’s weather bomb in our locality and wet carpets in my little Airbnb rental. As if that wasn’t enough, I had a sore spot on my back which prevented me from getting a good night’s sleep the night before. All of this while dealing the relationship breakup.

I thought we left things in a good place after agreeing to see a Relationship Therapist later this week to figure out how we navigate through this space we were in. Somehow, he became anxious that I wanted us to get back together and that was why I suggested therapy. After 3 lots of reassurances he was still insisting to confirming yet another time that I was clear that it was not an option. That was the point at which I lost control of what little control I had over myself.

I had looked after my son 9 days in a row with a bit of respite on two evenings. I had not had any time or space to care for my own needs which were immense and there was this man who could not see beyond his selfish panic that he might get reconnected to me and find himself in a relationship with me again. I don’t know how he figures it will happen without him being present in the doing of it. Looking back, I think he was more scared of himself than of my expectations and all of his actions were motivated by self preservation.

It does not matter anymore. We have tickets to a show tonight which cost a bit of money and it is something we are both keen to see. So we will go through with it. Tomorrow we are committed to seeing the Therapist and I don’t want to let her down last moment, so we will go. Then all that remains is getting the stuff I have stored at his holiday house and it is adios amigo. The wedge he tried to drive between us in the form of having his female harem sleep at his house after a St. Patrick’s day party on Friday is no longer my concern. I have had my fill. This my cue to exit stage right.

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