The Consequences Of My Actions Are Greater Than Even I Imagined

Well I don’t know where to start. It’s 1:37am and in in my exes living room, the tv is on and she is asleep in her bed.

I have ate a dinner for the past 2 night in a row and even had a lunch, I now need the extra energy and it’s essential I have it because of what had happened.

I have spent a lot of time with my son and saw my daughter at the weekend too, things are good there but only because of bad circumstances.

Work is ok but I’m itching to get the extra money I need so I can invest the leftovers of it back into my parents business, the family barber shop I run with my oldest brother. The shop needs invested into as its been around 8 years since they last done it up, there is more competition than ever so it’s essential it recieves a cash boost for new seats and stuff. There should be a few thousand left I can spend after May regardless of what my fucked up brain decides I should do with my life.

My memory is not very good at the moment from starving myself but something has happened that I never saw coming, it is something I never want to happen again for my sons sake. On Saturday night I received a text message from my ex, it simply said I’m sorry. I thought at first she was just feeling lonely or something but shortly after I recieved another that never really made any sense. I started texting her back and over the course of the next 2 hours or something I got a few messages back that made even less sense then they became mumbled rubbish, the alarm bells are going off big time now and I try and phone her.

she answers the phone and she can’t speak right, something is very wrong and I know it. My son is being watched by his granny and I run to the car, drive the 12 mile journey as fast as possible. I chap the door and it sways open unlocked, it’s all wrong. I enter the living room and she is slumped on the table, half empty bottle of vodka and empty bottle of a mixed vodka fruit drink sitting there. I run to her and pick her up, I never noticed the rest. I don’t know how I missed them.

I pick her up from the table, she is almost blue  and there is white froth pouring out her mouth, my heart stops and the panick sets in. As I pull her back I notice the empty packets all around her and on the floor, empty packets of paracetamol and scattered tablets everywhere. She mumbles about how she wants to go see her mum, her mum died a long time ago now and she never coped at the time and she without doubt never got over it. Her head is falling about and I clear her mouth, grab a huge glass of water and force it down her till it’s all finished, she is sick instantly. I look down and there’s blood, I tell her I’m taking her to the hospital and she fights even now the way she is, she says no she is going to her mum and grabs the doorway as I rush her out the house.

Turns out she had dissolved most of them in alcohol to drink them and a lot had gone into her system, she says her mum told her to message me and say sorry. It’s the only reason she is alive, the next time someone would have been concerned is on the Monday so she would have lay there most of the weekend before being found. This thought makes me feel sick that without doubt if she never sent that text she would be dead just now.

She is sore but ok, I have been running around doing everything I can for her and making sure wee Daza isn’t harassing Her to do mummy things. I feel responsible for it all, I’ve always said a stronger person would deal with the cheating better than I did, if I wasn’t so easily hurt she would never have done this. Because she cheats on me I drive her to suicide, is that the person I am?.

So I have been forcing myself to eat a meal a day and more if I can stomach it. I need to be well mentally to watch my son and deal with all the other stuff better.

I have also been struggling with the question game, I can’t think of a question that Canada would think of as a good question to ask. I also feel immense levels of guilt that I its been so long without asking now, like I have been a fraud almost. Like yeah this is some of the most meaningful stuff in my life but I can’t be arsed to ask anything, that’s not the case at all. I feel like I’ve just been allowing you to lift me up when I need it without ever giving anything in return. I want so much to show you but I cant, I dont know how. The best I have is the picture and it’s going to suck plums, I take comfort in the fact you have already said you don’t look for quality in a picture from a friend, the picture is merely a memory to keep. A trinket to pull out or stumble across, something to give warmth on cold dark days. I hope you are doing well my superhero friend and it saddened me to read you are still having off days, I want your world to be bright and full of love and I hate that someone so beautiful punishes themselves so much. You are not a monster you are a hero, certainly my hero anyway.

I suppose I better get ready to try and settle for the night, if I had the gift of one more question tho it would be the first thing you asked me before you changed it. Do you like socks 😁, or more specific. Do you wear big fluffy colourful socks or normal ones. I wear plain white sport socks with trainers or black, gray or brown dress socks for shoes depending on the colour of shoes I’m wearing.

There is strength in continuance.                  Love from Scotland 👍✌️x

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