I went to Stratford this weekend at the end of a very long and stressful week. My expectations were high for my trip, in hopes that I would have a wonderful, relaxing time, and would be able to forget about everything I left behind. Thankfully I was able to do so and enjoy every moment of my weekend away.
It seems as though I only left my problems at the border, since thats exactly where they were waiting for me when I returned. As soon as Tom and I crossed the bridge, when we had cell phone signals again, things started going back to the way they were. He was back on his cell phone almost immediately, making his phone calls and sending text messages and listening to his voicemail. I was tempted to rip the phone out of his hand and throw it out over the bridge. I didn't, since I knew doing so would only piss him off and I'd end up having to buy him a new phone. He sat there sighing heavily while on the phone, never letting me know what was going on. I knew he wasn't going to tell me what it was all about, so I had to ask. I could feel my throat get tight, my breath and pulse quicken, and my voice change to almost a frantic shriek as I asked him questions. All he gave me were a bunch of I don't knows to blow me off. Nothing changed.
Reality came crashing back to me when I had to drop Tom off. The grilling stares from his mothers puffy face reminded me that I had to give him up, he was no longer mine to keep. The fantasy of being with him every moment of the day, whether conscious or asleep, vanished as quickly as I broke into a sweat standing in their kitchen wishing I could run back to Stratford and take him with me. At the end of the day, I was going home by myself yet again. Nothing changed.
Coming home to an empty house, with no one to greet me, ask me about my weekend away, made coming home alone that much harder. The house was dark, no lights were on. Everyone had been gone for a while. A hastily written note was tossed on the counter. At least it was for me, to let me know where everyone was. At least someone had thought of me for one brief moment. But I was still alone in that house. Nothing changed.
I was in my home for about half an hour before the reality of this all came crashing down on me. The breakdown I should have had last week came quickly as I curled up on my bedroom floor, sobbing and choking hysterically. I tried my best to calm myself down, to compose myself enough to go for a walk while waiting for Tom to call me. He never called. I got home and there were a few im's from him, but no calls. A call from him didn't come until after my frantic text message. I shouldn't have sent him that message. I should have waited, to see if he was ever going to call me on his own.
All I wanted to do was talk, hear someones voice. He didn't have to come over, but he did anyways. In about half an hour of being with him, I was calm again, at least on the outside. It took a little while longer for my head and my racing heart to be subdued by his words. But it helped. And I am grateful for that. Nothing changed, though. He didn't make the problems go away for good, they've come back to me today as I write this. They're all still there, only the sting of it all isn't nearly as painful. Still, nothing changed.