K and I are talking again after the ‘misunderstanding’ from a couple of weeks ago. She said that we can still try living together for a month to see how it goes. I’m not thrilled by the idea, mainly because she has no filter and therefore, she has the potential to really trigger me. Our lifestyles are very different and she expects me to hide my depression and shitty self-esteem and simply not get triggered.
It’s probably going to end in disaster, but I don’t really have a choice. I can’t stay here in Grantham and I wouldn’t stay here in Grantham even if you paid me a million pounds to do so.. I’ve heard nothing from my therapist and my care manager in Rochester and for now, I have to assume that I cannot go back there because I’l be homeless.there too. I’m not going to put myself through the ordeal of the journey there just to end up in the same situation. At least if I stay with K, it might buy me more time for my therapist and care manager to possibly figure something out so that I can go back there in a couple of months.
I thought about just going to Scotland and staying in Airbnb’s, but I’ve never lived there before and I’d be completely lost and completely alone. It would be a huge risk and experience has taught me that I don’t adapt to change quickly enough, even if it’s positive change. I need familiarity, whether it be people or a place. If you throw me into unfamiliar territory, I’ll just go into shock mode.
I’m not happy about any of this and I’m about as far from ‘happy’ as you can possibly get. But I have to get out of Grantham. I forced myself to go out yesterday evening after waiting for all the parents and children (weekend people) to disappear into their homes, only to encounter groups of teenage chavs just aimlessly walking around town, looking intimidating and bored (bad combination). I only went out because I was getting major cabin fever inside my flat and craving a drink. I very nearly gave into that temptation when I went into Aldi and almost bought a bottle of vodka, but put it aside at the last minute when I was at the checkout. Relapse is basically inevitable while I’m still living in this shitty town of kids and families and a highly toxic relationship with my mum.
My mum isn’t talking to me and that’s fine. She’s obviously upset that I lashed out at her and told her to fuck off, but clearly doesn’t want to try to understand why it happened or rectify the situation. It’s probably for the best that we don’t talk to eachother anymore, apart from coordinating me taking care of the cats while I’m still here. Things will never change between my mum and I and I’ve given up. I can’t just sweep things under the rug or live in a perpetual state of denial like she does. I cannot be cold or logical like her.
I haven’t lost any weight and my vivid nightmares have not stopped, despite the fact that I have not had a drink since last Tuesday. I feel feel fat, disgusting and ugly, but my ugliness has nothing to do with alcohol.
I’m moving in with K on June 4th, so I have 5 more weeks in Grantham. I still have no idea what to do with most of my stuff and I have too much anxiety to try to sell it myself and deal with awkward and scary encounters with strangers. Living alone has clearly failed and was a bad idea to begin with. I need support, especially when it comes to dealing with the outside world. At least if I live with someone else, I won’t drink or be tempted to drink.