"I get knocked down, but I get up again"

JD. Omg woman, you can’t even commit suicide properly, you dumb fuck.

I took the train to the Freo seaside. Something about being by the sea brings me so much peace. I love the sound of waves pushing, pulling, crashing and reforming. It’s…magical.

From Bather’s Beach, I posted my last blog and downed as many tablets as I could; a strange mix of antidepressants, pain killers and sleeping tablets.

I’ll just lay here and die.

I couldn’t believe how good it felt to make a decision to die and not have to feel so fucking scared of life any more.

I passed out for 4 hours.

I woke up and checked my phone. I’d technically been missing for a very long time. Drunk Alun will have woken now and there will be missed calls and worried messages on my phone.

There was NOTHING.

Ngl guys, that hurt more than anything else I’ve had to endure so far in my life. To think my husband would be climbing the walls in worry and fear and find out he wasn’t…oh my God did that hurt.

Wow, Alun. Wow.

My stomach, kidneys and liver were burning. I had thrown up when I was unconscious. Mostly undigested pills. It’s strange the way a body will fight even when the mind says I give up.

I can’t believe Alun didn’t even try to see where or how I was.

I so badly wanted Alun to care. How drunk did he get that he didn’t notice one half of his marriage was missing?

I went from betrayed and dismayed to fucking furious in milliseconds.

I rang him.

“You weren’t worried about me?”

Alun sighed “You do this all the time. I figured I’d give you time and you would calm down and come home when you were ready”

THAT MADE ME SOOO ANGRY!!!

Alun was talking to me like a weary parent of a petulant child “When you’ve finished having a tantrum, you can come and have some lunch”

“I almost died, Alun!” I shouted into the phone.

“But you are on the phone” Alun fired back.

I hate how you’re “managing” me and despise how you’re responding right now, Alun.

“I’m going to hang up”

“Ok”

Ok?!? Really?!?

Fuming now.

I hung up.

Raging, I paced up and down the beach front for what felt like years.

My head was throbbing and my internal organs were under fire. I needed to find somewhere safe to rest.

I ended up booking a cheap motel room in the city. After the hour’s train ride, I arrived at reception completely exhausted.

I paid an extra $15 to check in 2 hours before I was supposed to. In the room, I kicked off my shoes, climbed into the bed and was asleep in minutes.

2 hours later and nothing from Alun. Wow. He really did not care.

How did we get to this?

My heart was so broken 💔 why didn’t Alun care when he knew I was suicidal?!?

Swallowing an incredibly bitter pill that was my pride, I texted Alun:

“I need to know you love me. I need to know you care about me, Alun!!! I’m really struggling here and it feels like you just don’t care!!!”

A few minutes later, Al responded:

“You know I love you. Come home”

No apologies. No tender message…just a reminder that I read as “I don’t have to tell you anything, you already know it – you complete waste of time! Pull your finger out (a favourite expression of my Dad’s) and just get home. Idiot”

My hurt multiplied.

My head was spinning. My vision switched continually between blurred and clear. The world seemed to be on an uneven keel and it was hard to walk without bumping into walls.

I really did need to be at home.

But home had changed it’s landscape because Alun had put walls up that I hadn’t had to traverse before.

I’ve already paid for the room for the night. I should just stay here. For the first time ever, I don’t feel wanted or welcome at home with Alun.

I went for a walk through the city instead. It was difficult as I was so unwell, but I made it to a bench and indulged in “people watching” as my heart broke.

Everyone seemed to have a place in the world…couples holding hands, parents carrying their children, teenagers roaming in noisy packs…it seemed that everyone but me had someone to belong to; somewhere to go.

Long story short…I checked out early from the motel and went home. It felt emotionally as if I was crawling back on all fours with my tail between my legs. I felt so degraded and disgusting.

I hadn’t planned to ever return, so I didn’t have my keys. I had to knock on the front door and ask to be let in. Omg that was humbling.

Alun let me in. We didn’t fall into our usual loving embrace. Alun walked off into the house. I went to the kitchen to drop my handbag on it’s usual bar stool by the breakfast bar.

Everything felt…wrong.

It was as if I’d crossed into another dimension where Alun and I don’t talk.

Even the house felt cold, unwelcoming. It smelt different…like walls and floors that hadn’t been witness to laughter, hugs, silly dances, boardgame battles, singing at the top of our lungs to our favourite songs, the hundreds of meals we’d shared…it was as if the house was just a building and not a love-worn home.

Alun looked hungover. It broke my heart to see the heavy grey bags under his eyes, but then I remembered he’d been up drinking all night and had fallen asleep with the wood fire stove door open. The house filled with smoke, the smoke alarms went off and woke me with a start. I ran around in a panic, shutting the oven’s door, opened all our windows and cleared the smoke which turned the piercing alarm off, praise God.

Alun was passed-out drunk and slept through the whole thing.

Instead of embracing him, I frowned at Alun, the memory of him almost burning the house down holding me back from apologising or brushing Alun’s fringe softly back from his face.

We sat on different ends of the sofa…the space between us stretched out like a vast canyon.

“You knew I was going to kill myself and you let me walk out the door” I accused, balling my hands into fists. I was so angry.

“You had your own plans, so I just left you to it” Alun shrugged. His nonchalance hurt so deeply.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” I asked.

Another shrug.

This was like vomiting and then having to eat the vomit, that’s how unpleasant it was.

We sat there, not speaking. For hours.

Alun suddenly made up his mind about something and laid on the sofa; putting his feet in my lap. We sit like this a lot. It was bitter-sweet  having Aluns feet where they’ve been sooo many times before. But now…now I wasn’t sure what to do and where my place was in this. This felt familiar and foreign at the same time.

Alun put his arm out. An unspoken invitation to cuddle that he’d sent many times before.

I hesitated, but then laid next to Alun, our bodies facing each other. We were face-to-face. Alun closed his eyes. I took a deep breath before doing the same.

We stayed that way the entire night. Our alarms went off at 5am and we each got ready for work.

“Bye, Gorg” Alun kissed my cheek and headed outside.

I stood in the porch with my hand over the place Alun had kissed and wondered…what happens now?