I spent some time Wednesday night bagging up the clothes that she didn’t take with her. She said it was stuff that didn’t fit, and I could get rid of them. It was a lot of stuff. Two lawn bags full. I took them to a local charity to donate them, and in the process, pulled something in my back. It was carelessness, really. They were really heavy bags, and I was in a hurry to be done with it, so I just wrenched it. It was bad enough that I had to cancel dinner plans Friday evening, and I haven’t been able to row since.
Placing the sticky pads of a TENS machine on your own lower back is a complicated task. If she was here, I would’ve asked for her help, just as I would have asked for her to rub Icy Hot on it. It made me realize that I am alone for other stuff like this now. If I need a ride to and from the hospital for a coloscopy, for example, I’m going to have to call my parents. (Again, I love my parents, but I’m actively avoiding them at this point.)
I like to be independent. I hate to be a burden on anyone. With her, I never really felt like a burden. Those are just things you do with your person, and it’s reciprocal. I want so badly for her to be my person again. I want to be able to go to sleep at a normal time without getting drunk, without crying for over an hour. I want to shut down my emotions and just robot through the rest of my life, but that’s how I’ve always handled things, and I just can’t pen up these emotions any more.
The dam has broken, and there’s no way to stem the flow.