alone

I woke up this morning (5:30--about usual lately) and it hit me like a brick--I don't want to be alone and I'm really angry about it. I want someone to hold me at night, to comfort me when I cry, to lull me back to sleep. I want to be held, I want to be touched, I want to feel as though I'm still human. 

I am so angry and disgusted with Cliff. We were together almost 3 years--I thought we had a great thing going. I loved him so much and I thought he felt the same. He told me he did. But when Leslie first got sick, back in February, I think he realized where this was going, and that our life wasn't going to be "fun" anymore and he wanted to have fun. So he found another woman and is now having fun with her and I'm here. I know, I know, if that's how he was going to be I'm better off without him, but I am so lonely. And so hurt and angry. I hate nights. I hate staying up reading or online or something to keep my mind occupied until I just can't keep my eyes open. I can't stand when I wake up during the night and it's just me.. I hate waking up in the morning by myself. I am so freaking ANGRY today. 

I know, Leslie wasn't his daughter, but he could have been here for me if he really cared. Knowing that he didn't care that much makes everything hurt all that much more. 

My sister--I don't know what her issue is--hasn't been talking to anyone the past couple of weeks. The few close friends I have (and I can count them on one hand with fingers left over) have been backing off a bit. I kind of get that. I admit when Gail's sister was dying of brain cancer a few years back I did that to her. It was uncomfortable. Not my best moment, no, but at least I realize this happens and I'm not too upset about it. My son tries, but he's never been good at the "emotions" thing. He'll listen, but I can tell he gets uncomfortable when I start getting worked up. 

I really want to get involved with a (physical) support group. The two run by the hospice here don't work into my schedule. The one during the day conflicts with my bi-weekly staff meeting (with my boss' boss--those are mandatory and you don't miss those). The evening one conflicts with my standing therapy appt. Once I move there is a daytime group which meets at a better time for me. I'm sure Kurt (my boss) would be OK with me working my schedule around that. He's been truly great about everything. When it became obvious that Leslie was seriously ill I explained the situation to him and he told me to take whatever time I needed. Then I realized that I would ask for the time in an email, he'd say, take whatever you need, you don't need to ask. So I'd just enter the time off in the reporting system and he never approved it. Or denied it. Just left it hanging there, so officially I never took off and the time isn't taken out of my account.  I'm sure he's doing that intentionally. I realized a couple of weeks ago that, if he hadn't done that, I would have been out of time off for the year by now. And with moving, and days I simply can't get out of bed, having 9 paid vacation days left is a blessing. 

I've been talking to Kenny, Leslie's bio dad at least once a week, and we exchange texts and photos. I contacted him when Leslie was close to the end. I felt he had the right to know, even though he gave her up when she was 4 years old. He had become a drug addict, and that took over his life. He got himself clean--has been for almost 30 years. He's tried to reconnect with Leslie a number of times, but she wanted nothing to do with him. After talking to him over the past 6 weeks or so I'm really sad about that. I see so much of him in Leslie, and they had so many interests in common. I really think they would have been close, had she given him a chance. I could honestly see Leslie working with him in his business (he does custom car interiors--mostly for classic cars). 

Unfortunately, she also, from her dad, inherited her addictive issues and her stubbornness. She always told me that, knowing her dad had been an addict, she stayed away from drugs because she knew she'd get addicted. Didn't stop her with the alcohol, though. I guess she figured it wasn't as harmful. Like her dad, she had to hear she was going to die before she got scared enough to stop drinking. But, unlike her dad, this warning came too late. She had destroyed her liver and there was no going back. As an alcoholic, she would have had to have been sober at least six months before she would even be considered for transplant, but even if she had made it that long, it was too late. The damage was irreparable. She'd been sober a little over 5 months when she died. 

Talking to Kenny has been good for both of us. I hadn't spoken to him in over 25 years, and even then it was just briefly. He's been living halfway across the country all this time. He's offered, several times, to come out here and see me, to try and "be there" for me for at least a little while. He's invited me to come out there if I feel it would help. It's kind of strange--we've gotten back to realizing how it was between us before the drugs tore us apart. Sometimes I think he's thinking reconciliation--he's dropped hints. That's not going to happen, though, and even if it did, I wouldn't trust myself getting into a relationship with anyone right now. Especially him.

Plan for today. Move some more stuff to the new storage unit--this is my yarn and fabric collection. Once I'm in a better place I want to go through Leslie's clothes (I ended up not donating them--I want to go through them again when I'm not so rushed) and perhaps make a small quilt. I've been meaning to learn quilting anyway. 

Back to today--move stuff to the storage unit. Rearrange things around here so I'm not tripping over boxes all the time. Get Sawyer back from the sitter this evening. Been up almost 4 hours. I should get moving. 

And maybe I need to buy that giant teddy bear.