This is where I have taken up residence. In the abyss of the abrupt departure of my alcoholic former supposed spouse. Adrift in an ocean of tears with no shoreline in sight. Enwreathed in a shroud of anguish so thick and dark that even the horizons have disappeared. It is arduous even to breathe.
This latest catastrophe is nothing new. Of the seven years we've been together he has spent nearly half that in some form of incarceration - county jail, treatment centers, pre-release centers and now, finally, State Prison. The times we've spent apart and those we've spent together have become so jumbled that for every event, I have to stop and think - was he home when that happened? Or did I have to handle that one myself?
I keep telling myself that this is the last time I live here - in the aftermath. This time, I'm not simply killing time until he comes home again. This time, I'm breaking the cycle. This time, I'm moving on.