So the wanderer has returned. And not before time. My poor son has been out of sorts, not sleeping well and playing up at school, not like him. My girls were thrilled to see me. It felt good to be driving home, to people that loved me and cared about me. It felt nice to get messages of support from people both here and overseas when I struggled when I was alone. I felt that quite possibly I really wasn’t alone in this. That people CARED. That if I slipped away tomorrow, people would notice. And if that’s the case, maybe I’m not the worthless heathen I’ve come to think of myself as. I’ve come to learn about myself.
Being home and getting into my routine, getting things in order has felt nice. I’ve felt control.
I dearly loved my break and the peace. But I also love my purpose and the fact that I have one.
My husband and I had dinner last night for our wedding anniversary. One of our favourite Italian restaurants. Beautiful red wine, fantastic service. Initially I felt so tired I worried how I might get through the evening. But the conversation gently flowed about old friends and current affairs. We managed to get quite far along until something of the past cropped up and I suddenly became achingly aware of the present and the pain inside of me. And then I felt my eyes occasionally drifting to his phone to see if there were any emails coming in from the UK in Respect of this situation. Mostly we tried to avoid the conversation.
Happy bellies, full of good food and good wine we got home. My baby boy curled up peacefully in our bed. Our house does feel like a sanctuary. I’ve moved furniture where I like it to be, bought things that suit. It feels like a home. There’s no theme, there’s no clutter, it’s just my own style. Light, airy and spacey.
Dinner and time together was intimacy enough for us. I’m not comfortable with my body. I feel raw again, ashamed. I cancelled my wax appointment.
I guess although I’m clearly happy to be home, I’m out of balance somehow. I’m of course still incredibly tired.
I’m unsure what the next few weeks will bring. I’d like to just muster through, hold onto what’s familiar. Garner strength from my break and the fact that I was able to enjoy independence and I’m not completely owned by the past or the PTSD.