See more » My Life is an Open Blog
(Charles returned today, much earlier than planned or expected.)
Charles is away. I'm not sure how long he'll be gone.
I've written some of Charles' problems: frequent nausea from the intestinal resection that put his crohn's in remission, panic attacks - no reason to replay them all. He has had problems I've never mentioned, a problem that I deeply underestimated.
He's gone to see an old friend who may be able to give him help and counseling. We'd originally discussed his visit as lasting four days. Before he confessed as I'd already expected that he wasn't sure how long he'd stay with his friends (the person he's hoping can aid him has a life-partner, hence the switch to plural).
Right now it's almost a vacation, I'm a happy solitary; an empty house, silent except for an occasional CD, has its pleasures. And I'm used to Charles being away for short stretches when he goes to Raleigh.
I'm mostly OK. But Thursday night or Friday morning I expect my mood will shift into uncertainty. Disturbed, panicky, confused - some mix of those. I'm already a little spooked. I don't want the phone to ring (unless it is Charles). Why? No idea. Right now I want the rest of the world to stay outside a sharply felt boundary.
That was exactly how I felt when Charles almost died. I went to the shop thinking it'd distract me. All I felt was confused by familiar tasks. Perhaps part of the methodology of the hidden part of my mind relies on distance, remaining alone.
My real fear is that Charles won't come back. He said I might be better off if he didn't. There's a good case to be made for that. Romantic love isn't about reason, so I've only weighed that when I've been most desperate.
This probably sounds like I'm in an anxious funk. I'm not. Not yet. Call it histrionic sobriety.