Vigil v 6 

Like last night but worse. I knew it'd get worse. I feel restless, stuffy, thwarted. I wanna wipe it off him. Cool sponges sucking it all out and off. As it mounts, the hours, the fight it's putting up to keep hold of him like a demon, the pain he is in always to be separated from his safety valves, like cigarettes. I feel it, his body, and think crazyass gibberish into the universe I am sorry I won't let it happen again I promise please 🙏

It what happen? This is his nonsense penance prayer, I am repeating the damn thing. 

As I read more about his drug cocktail, I read more about him. Even more than I already knew. I am reading all about the relapse patterns with alcohol, what triggers that, the intimacy needs and isolation and emotional fragmentation that surrounds those patterns. If I look back yet again, it's there, the drinking leads to emotional reach out attempts. Plotlines, we called them. And the baby hurt was The Hurt then. So it's easy to just see the other women as a womb buffet. But if I reverse blink, it's drinking alone around hurt(s) he sneaks out with, to find someone to show it to, his broken wing. 

This is a different broken wing (?) I want to see it. 

I don't do any of that. Show broken wings, I mean. I am not good enough at getting smitten. I just do different self-harming things. 

Welp, here we are, and it can't be otherwise. Any other plotline leads to different kids, and leads to different us. And I don't want different any of that. I don't even want to go back that one year, take him up on the hockey mom night. Nope. We each needed to really almost die before we'd believe it. 

I wish I could comfort him. But I think it maybe better not to touch him right now, also. Just cool ghostly washcloths between naps.