I don't think I'll ever get over my wife, now ex wife, leaving me.
Not fully. I'm sure over the years it'll fade but the scar will be forever be there, faded and dull but still there like a little ghostly leech. These last couple of days I have missed her intensely. It came after a couple of defeats, (I'm playing football or rather futsal) and I dearly wanted some comfort, last night and tonite, someone to say, 'Hey, no biggie, it'll be all ok.' Someone to hold, squeeze, and someone to do likewise. Most I got was to squeeze the goalkeeper glove of my key ring. Well it is nice and soft.
When I'm in bed, that's when it comes back. Last night it certainly did, last night when it all came crumbling down, like a sandcastle being enveloped by the tide of my own fears gently eating away at its foundations leaving a confused and lost little boy feeling very much alone.
Missing her, wondering how I let the relationship escape me, realising those early fears of my depression came true; that she, she could would did leave me. The worst fear that I thought was just a part of my depression had actually come true.
The last day or so it has hurt more significantly than it has done in the last few months and I've only just realised why. It's the third anniversary of the marriage on the 26th of this month. Sub-conscious maybe? Sub-conscious memories which might explain the balls to bone feeling of loss that I'm feeling right now? That deep feeling that is the spiritual equivalent of having a nasty illness, say chicken pox, that horrible right through to your bone marrow sickness that makes you feel so so bad. And which is what I'm feeling now.
It doesn't help that myself and my father rarely talk. When I came home earlier all I wanted was a simple, 'How did it go? How are you?' Something, anything to show we are family. But no, all I got was, 'Is it raining?' The one time I needed something from him that would show we weren't virtual strangers and are really father and son, not just genetically, but no.
Days like These
It was a hard defeat in futsal tonite. I'm doing my best but sometimes, damn, you don't know what to do.
I guess my deciding to go back into goal, the one position where mistakes and even non-mistakes can be highlighted as mistakes, isn't necessarily the best for my mind right now.
It can be a lonely position.
Nuts to it. It's what I want, still want. Robert Enke is and was my inspiration to even get back into football. For Enkus.
I can learn from my mistakes.
I will learn from my mistakes.
I only hope I can last.