I just screamed into a pillow for a prolonged period of time and punched the wall a couple times. I wish there were more things to destroy in this apartment. I guess I’ll focus on what’s already destroyed.
I just need to get this out so I can keep going, today. I am so angry at you, babe. I am so angry you left me here alone. You left me here to raise Hugo alone. A dog that was challenging to raise TOGETHER. HOW THE FUCK DID YOU THINK I COULD DO IT BY MYSELF? He is stressing me out because he’s stressed out, because I started this job and I go to support groups and there is barely enough time to walk him as much as he deserves, let alone give him quality time and enriching things to do. He is licking his paws and whining at the door and stress-yawning and the guilt sucks. He is allergic to the metal on his e-collar so I have to buy different tongs before I can put it back on him and there is any chance that he will even listen to me in the house. You left me here with Hugo, our little son, the last thing I have left that we shared together. What am I supposed to do? I can’t wait for his appt with the specialist, next week, so I can finally figure out what’s wrong with him. Maybe he’ll stop drinking so much, maybe his coat will improve, maybe his muscle will return.
The only solution is for me to do better. I need to accept getting less sleep- I need to accept doing more in the morning. This is just how it is, now, and I need to get used to it.
You left me here to fucking fight for a barrier that could have saved your life and work a demanding job, while raising Hugo, alone. You left me here to figure out all the things from our life together that would be missing when you left. That I would only get to find out piece-meal. And, last but not least, you left me here to live with the grief, the pain, the blame, the self-loathing…you left me here without you. You walked out the door and you never came back. You left me here to feel overwhelmed every day, where at any time I may buckle under the crushing weight of what all this really takes. It’s too hard and it’s too much.
What you were carrying was too much, and what I am carrying now is too much.
I know your pain was worse, because I’m still here. Thank god for those anti-depressants.