Yes I can seem very cold-hearted at times. I seem to go through life largely feeling invincible. But it’s complex. I AM emotionally vulnerable, tooth-achingly so at times.
Since around his 30th birthday things with Solly seemed to go sharply downhill. I couldn’t bear to be around him. Didn’t want to touch him. Stayed in my own room and own zone while he dominated the living room and internet. Watching things I had no interest in, putting on music I hated. Yep he seemed to be pushing me away.
It came to a head the day before yesterday which I had spent completely alone, reading and listening to the radio and feeling more and more resentful of his distance. Around eleven o’clock pm I started to feel so restless. I doubted I would be able to sleep through the night and it felt intolerable to be in the house or even in this city anymore. Recovering addicts call this ‘doing a geographical’. Where you get it into your head that if you only move your physical body to another place you will be shot of your mental demons.
I looked up on the internet when the last train to Folkestone was, thinking to find refuge with my mum and son in their village. OK, it appeared there was one at 12.15, I thought I could just about make it to Charing Cross in time.
Hastily packed a small rucksack with the very basics, headed out to bus and tube. But though I reached the station in time even to buy a ticket, it turned out there was no 12.15 train. I searched, in desperation, the departure boards for where I COULD go because it was inconceivable to me to just return with my tail between my legs. I wanted Solly to at least notice my absence.
OK the only train that at least went some of the way to Folkestone (how I craved to be by the ocean at that moment!) actually terminated in Tonbridge. I got on it, without a ticket and luckily there were no collectors.
My word that was a horrible night. It was so cold, in a jumper, jacket and trackie bottoms I was still inadequately dressed and hadn’t thought to pack a blanket. But also, Tonbridge was just as dead as the dodo in the middle of the night on Easter Monday.
I wandered around, searching in vain for anything open. I was stopped by police times 2. One of them confirmed that there was in fact nothing for homeless people in Tonbridge, nothing open whatsoever and my best bet was to stay around the station and hop on the first available morning train.
Haha, I live a charmed life. There was a tolerable public toilet that remained open opposite the station. There were two operating hand driers producing hot air when you press the button. I decided that this in fact was my ‘hotel’ for the night. Sadly there was nowhere to lie down and only a small toilet to sit on lol.
It was scary how dead Tonbridge was. Apart from the two cops I didn’t speak to a living soul while there.
At some point I changed my mind about the trip to Folkestone. Why not just return to my own gaff. I’m always happier there anyway and I’d sorta got over the urge to ‘do a geographical’ and escape The Smoke.
What clinched the deal was that the first available train in the morning was for Charing Cross, 4.40am. Was I relieved to get on that train. The empty compartment was warm, there were three-person seats that I could lie down on and finally get some zzz’s. Thankfully no ticket inspectors came so my nightmarish excursion was at least free of charge.
But arriving back home and finding Solly on the internet having also been up all night, my problems were only starting.
Idk, I haven’t really got the energy to tell you about yesterday. I seemed to spend most of it crying or feeling like crying and fortunately I am now able to produce actual tears which I couldn’t for years, because it does at least provide some kind of relief. It was a horrendous day, but character-building, I guess. I had to come to terms with the possibility that Solly would have to go, that if he didn’t get himself locked up on Monday when he goes to court we might just not be ‘meant to be’ as I had convinced myself we were.
Reader I survived this head-on collision with my own Force 100 emotions. As I often do I kept them largely to myself and processed the thoughts that went with them as best I could. I guess I had to come to terms with the idea that life after Solly could be a reality for me. I had to free myself of the terrible fear of abandonment, of him going to jail like the last two and from there maybe even being deported to Somalia for God’s sake.
And then I woke up today and Solly was asleep on the sofa downstairs in foetal position, but it was a new day and a new struggle. I had released a lot of my own demons yesterday and didn’t have to do it over again today, huzzah! And what’s more, he went to see his solicitor today to talk about the court case. And meanwhile I had a phone call from the local police asking me to come and give a statement about why I didn’t want to bring a charge against Solly. I’m doing that at 9.00am tomorrow. The officer told me there is even a possibility that it won’t go to trial when they read my statement.
Seems like a good omen. So I’m proceeding in cautious optimism. Anyone who happens to read this. I humbly ask you for your prayers on this matter. Much as I processed my emotions and convinced myself that I could move on without Solly in my life, seriously? I have my doubts. As I said to him this morning while he was only half-awake, how can I lose my twin? If you DO go won’t I still be stuck with you anyway?
Damned if you do or don’t really, but hey. He’s still my own personal saviour, he’s still taken my burden on himself and the least I can do is try my best to save him in return.