Saturday morning

If you are Italian and have access to this post, please use Google Translate I won’t be translating these.

Welcome to my “private” diary. It is mostly private, only those who have the password can see these posts, and not many people can see these links. Most people will never even come across them but if they do, if you do, then these posts are not something I want to comment on, not outside of here anyway, but they are here because I gave up a counsellor for monetary (and time) reasons, but I did need one. So, lacking one, I need to use this thing here, but I do need to feel like I’m talking to “someone”, or there’s no point.

It doesn’t matter if you’re reading this or not, I need to feel someone is reading. If you want to comment, comment here, don’t bring this up in normal conversation with other people. I will repeat this every time I make a post like this so that you always know which are the private ones and which aren’t.

Thanks for reading. I don’t often feel like this. In fact, the reason why I went to see a counsellor in the first place was because of these ups and downs, to try and understand why they came but mostly what to do when the downs came, how to deal with them.

The conclusions we had reached were that sometimes the downs were caused by legitimate reasons I could try dealing with, and sometimes I didn’t know. We would have carried on talking about all these to try and assess them and see whether drugs or changes in life could help manage them.

Like I said, no money to do that now, so I need to do this.

Paolo you are having access to this post, because I need to express something and I find it very hard to talk to you about these things. Same things I have been trying to get across for the past many years.

I woke up happy this morning. Sure it was early for me too. But Maggie was happy and cuddly and we started talking about the day after I had come back from the bathroom and you had told me it was ok to open the curtains. Remember the background: my idea of a happy awakening: sunshine, leaves outside, we talk and laugh and plan our day and think about all sorts of things.

I know you hate that. But you have to admit I don’t often do it, I kind of gave up a long time ago. But I would have thought that if occasionally it happened, you’d kind of be ok with it?

This morning I was enjoying my planning, I thought I was talking “with” you but you were languorous and not really talking and I soon realised you were letting me talk to myself mostly. But I still thought you were in some way enjoying it: letting me do the morning thing with Maggie talking and planning, and in the meantime I would allow you to just be hugging and pretending to listen. It wasn’t ideal but I thought it’d be fine. I was content.

Then, I don’t even remember what happened. Something turned all of a sudden, you got angry at me, you said SORRY I AM FUCKING TIRED with your booming voice. It rent the air that was filled with laughter and good humour. It made the beautiful ugly. I was in shock and asked you to stop, to not talk like this in while maggie was still around, and you said some other unpleasant thing I cannot remember and then said how I made your weekend a fucking nightmare every time, with your planning and all! I felt smacked, and it still hurts. I thought if not take part in my happy idea of a morning once in a while, you were at least happy that I was chattering away and being happy. Instead, I was a nightmare. Instead, you swear and you boom as you talk.

I was shocked. I still am. You never apologised, of course. I don’t want to do anything, I don’t want to talk to you, I want to be away from you. But I can’t for the sake of Maggie, whom I’d promised I would spend all day with. For the boys.

The thing is, this morning, as many others, will be remembered as ME spoiling your morning. YOU making the effort to make up for whatever I did, by now trying to talk normally, to gradually pretend nothing happened. And I will make an effort to forget what happened, to forget how I feel, because I feel rotten and sad and shocked and so angry, and pretend happy again, and eventually I’ll forget, and be happy again. But you will never have apologised, you will never have understood.

Having posted this, I know I’ll feel better Having recorded it, I will less like betraying myself for making an effort to smile and gradually go back to the happy. So if you;re reading this, don’t worry All this sadness will probably be over within the next 5 minutes, but it needed to go out there in order for it to happen. Thanks for reading, avoid these in the future if this is too much for you.


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