|Growly Bear and Bruiser|
That's Ed sitting on his Mom's couch with their dog. Bruiser is wearing the hat I made Ed. It's just minutes before I head out the door.
Such a quick trip. Over too soon.
The hours and days and weeks stretch ahead like a tarred road on a hot day. A slow difficult slog with every step feeling like it's glued to the ground.
The recent fumble of our relationship weighs me with fear of a repeat. It was twice in two years. The same weeks of the year. And since I still don't really understand what happened there's nothing substantial to hang onto.
Hope is fragile. Brittle.
The last three weeks will haunt me for the rest of this separation. It still feels raw like a blistering sunburn.
I almost didn't post this picture because looking at Ed here I want to cry. It's like looking in a mirror. He's the picture of depression. He's always had the winter blues but this year is the worst I've seen in 35 years.
And I can't be there to pull him out or at least keep him from sliding further in. It scares me.
If only he would stop self-medicating and seek the help he is requiring me to seek. Maybe then I could spare more attention to my own self-care.
For contrast, remember the picture from two years ago April?
That too was taken just before leaving. Only minutes before Carri and I backed out of the driveway of our house with the second load of our stuff in April 2013. Early in this unwanted separation that began that January...and continues two years later.
Such hope that day. Where did it go?
I guess to be fair I should reveal my own true face:
That's a selfie taken shortly after we arrived in the Rogue Valley late Friday. Tho it was after midnight by this time. Carri had just finished unloading the van and had gone after half and half for our morning coffee. I'd just finished setting up my laptop to prep Friday's post and was taking the picture of the hat I'd just freed from the hook planning to make my post about finishing the hat during the drive.
But I couldn't bear to look at that. It looks like I've been crying for a week. Which is about right if you count the crying on the inside. Looking at it made me want to start crying again. Why would I subject it on anyone else?
Instead I took about a dozen pictures of the hat from different angles laying on the bed or perched on my hand or fist. By the time I had one I liked I was out of energy and could not face the prospect of transferring the picture from my cell to GDrive to my laptop and then opening it in an image editor and prepping it for the post and then prepping the post and then posting to fb.
That felt like another 300 mile trip with me behind the wheel.
With less than five hours before I was planning to show up on my in-law's porch I went to bed. But it was hours more before I slept as I obsessively rehearsed what I hoped to say to Ed or helplessly watched the mini-movies made by my mind playing out possible scenarios. None of which had a happy ending.
It's a bitch to live with.