Starting the cleanout

I had a rubbish skip delivered Saturday so that I could pull up the ruined carpet, ready for the hard floors to be layed, preparatory to selling the house. Unfortunately, I hardly managed to start anything on Saturday - the day was a dreadful mess of driving all over the place after others (Tony, Phillip, Sarah, Issy etc). I gave up Saturday night. I bought a bottle of vodka and a bottle of tonic, and went to bed to watch the TV. I got tired of drinking around 9-ish, and started reading. Lucky that, really.

At 11.30 Sarah rang to ask me to pick her up (as well as Issy, Callum and Tom) from the party they'd gone to. She said that Tom had been hit, and she wanted to bring him home to clean him up. So I put my dressing gown on, and went to get them. Just a few minutes from home. Tom had been rather brutally bashed - apparently gate-crashers arrived at the party, and the father of the birthday girl threw everyone out at the same time. Bad move. The gate-crashers started picking on one of the boys, Tom stepped in and said something like 'leave him alone', and got hit to the ground. Then they kicked him. Callum tried to help, and got a bottle broken over the back of his head for his trouble. Someone called the police - a neighbour, I think, but no-one came out to see if anyone was hurt. When I got there the police had just arrived and wanted me to take Tom to hospital. I looked at him and asked them to call an ambulance, which they did. By the time it arrived Tom was coughing up blood. I was very worried about him, and when the ambulance went I took Sarah, Issy and some boys back to our place, I dressed and we went to the Austin Hospital, which is where they said they were taking him. After spending about 45mins at the Austin we were finally able to ascertain that the ambulance had been redirected and he was in the Royal Melbourne. So off we went. One of the boys was very drunk and belligerent with it. He ended up going home in the back of a divvy van (which suited me, 'cos I wasn't going to take him - he was driving me up the wall). We couldn't get hold of Tom's dad. Callum wouldn't let anyone tell his parents. I took him home around 3.30am, with his head cleaned but not stitched. Tom's dad was finally contacted around 6am, and he went straight in. Tom was allowed to go home late in the morning, but he is in a dreadful way.

So Sunday. Got up late, called the ex-husband to say 'Sorry, but I've got alot to do, and I'm tired' (I was supposed to help him with his business accounts), and then slowly got going. Around 1pm the kids kind-of kicked in and we got to work on the carpet and the rubbish in the yard. We finished around 6pm. Intense, but successful. I bought the kids pizza for dinner 'cos they'd worked so hard. Then Tony turned up.

He was angry about some of the things in the skip that I was throwing out. I said that I thought he knew I had the skip, and that he knew I'd be throwing out rubbish. We had a heated discussion about rubbish. Then he complained that I don't consult him - of course I don't. I worked out years ago that asking him anything is just another way to never get it done. Now he is saying I shouldn't do anything to the house, and maybe he can buy out my share. Hmmm. He has barely been able to work at all for 5 years, and now he thinks he can support an even bigger mortgage? Anyway. He wanted to sort 'us' out. So I told him that it was finished. I just want to sort the house, settle the money and get on with my life. He got stroppy, and gave me a long dissertation on why he doesn't want to live with me any more. But in the end he said that he had hoped that I'd want to change! enough to try again. No. It's not possible. Everything is still about me changing, and nothing is about him taking his mental illness seriously and dealing with it. I don't want to live like that again.

So that awful conversation has been done. I went pretty much straight to bed, and slept better than I have in a while. This morning I got up early and paid some of my bills (I don't have enough money to pay all of them), and now I'm at work. So, I've ended it with my husband, and now I'm really alone. It's time to take life seriously.

Time to move on...

We had a murder in my suburb last night - someone I knew. Not well, but well enough for a nodding acquaintance. We had him do our wills some years ago, and my husband was supposed to do some work for him round about the time he got really ill - never happened. He was shot in the alley behind the shops near the station, and it seems he managed to stagger out of the alley to the bus stop before he died. Just awful, our suburb is usually thought of as being so very safe.

The police were thick on the ground in Station St when I was going home: I did have a drink with Dani last night - it was fun. I miss seeing her now that I'm not working at the uni. This morning I came into work late. Sadly, Debra couldn't cope in her new job, and quit this morning - depression seems to have subsumed her again. This means our 'hot date' on Wednesday is off - I was worried about her when we deferred last week. Now she feels bad about being a burden to me. To be honest I could do without more mental illness in my life, but I can't just abandon her.

So, this evening I have to call Debra (standard care & concern), Karyn (friend maintenance), and Sean (me maintenance). That's a moderately high load for my soul just now. I also have to get on with the sale of the house issues - order a rubbish skip, and book a quote for the flooring. I am just holding on. I need some more strength....

Another leap forward in time...

I've taken my wedding ring off. Well, it's been over a year since he moved out now. And at long last I've come to the conclusion that (in my heart at least), it's over. I won't be living with him ever again. Every time we have discussed being back together he has given me the list of all of my faults that have to be rectified, and all of the reasons that I've made him ill, and why it's my fault that his life is such a misery. I just woke one morning and asked myself 'why'. Why go back to being responsible for his misery again? Why put myself in the position of being constantly berated for being alive? No. It's over, and I'm getting a life.

Last week I had dinner with a (much) younger man - nothing will come of it, but he is charming company, and is so undemanding. I'm quite prepared to work at maintaining a friendship with him. Friday evening I spent with another friend. She had asked me to draw her, and so last week was the first sketch session. We had dinner, drew for a while and things developed from there. I don't want a relationship. The thought of being held responsible again for another human being's emotional state is terrifying. But, the warmth and contact of intimacy is wonderful. And this is a friendship that has matured into a sweet contact of souls. She had never been with a woman before, and I have only been with one man for 25 years, so it was quite an experience for both of us. I loved it.

Tonight I'm going for a drink with another friend - this one is strictly platonic. She was a fantastic support last year when the marriage was breaking up. Wednesday I'm watching TV (Spicks & Specks, Absolute Power, The Glass House and The Movie Show - a great night's television!) with a gay friend whom I have known for years.

So my life is changed. I am free, my house will be on the market soon, and then I will be responsible to no-one but myself. Well... for a while anyway, I'm sure my conscience will eventually slow me down.....

Cheers