Quite literally. I was left on what's normally my favorite place to be, where I do nothing but enjoy Stacy-time, Sunday night at about 6pm. A day after T-Bone emptied my house of most of his stuff. And right after telling me that our impossible relationship of two probably broken people that may or may not have had any business being together from the beginning shouldn't continue.
Because I'm not in the mood to defend him on blogger, and partly because it wouldn't be fair to air his personal issues to strangers, I will say very little about the reasons for now. But I will say that he's not a bad person and I don't regret a second of the past three years. I agreed with everything he said to me. Mostly. And I will say that over-all, it's fairly mutual. We aren't fighting, he didn't cheat, he doesn't want to be with someone else, and we do love each other ... But as most of you will agree, sometimes love isn't enough. And it's ironic now that up until a few days ago, when people asked what we were even doing together this long if not planning our wedding, or at the very least living together, we'd both confidently reply "If it's not broke, don't fix it!" And although we have no intention of leaving each others lives completely, something is broken and I don't know if there's a way to fix it.
The last 48 hours of my life has been awful to put it simply. I've shed many o tears - not gonna lie. And because I've been battling a sinus infection or some shit for almost two weeks, I've blown out and coughed up litres of snot. I'm running off very little sleep, none of which I've had in my bed ... call me sappy, crazy, whatever, but I can usually only sleep comfortably in my bed when T-Bone's in it. Everything I've eaten since Sunday has come out almost immediately, and quite abrubtly I should add. My eyes are sore, my nose is sore, my head is sore, my ass is sore. I havent been at work since Friday and I'm now on beta-fish death watch because the little fucker just jumped out of his tank.
Today was better than yesterday though and I even brushed my teeth. I finally hit up my doctor for some antibiotics, then returned $123 worth of shirts that neither my daughter or I chose to wear to the wedding we attended on Saturday. The same wedding I fear initiated the demise of this complicated relationship that Travis and I were trying so hard to prove would work.