I went back to the flat I shared with my OCD/BDD fiance today to collect all my stuff. As it's a fair trek from Essex to Brighton, I could only take 1 car load. Not that my Dad's car is small or anything, but I had to throw a few things away that I'd rather not have. I'll have to rebuy a whole load of kitchen stuff when I move out of parents place again.
My parents had some fantastic friends, an anglican parish rector and his wife. They are my role model of generosity and kindness. They were like an extra set of grandparents to me. After their deaths we went to their house to look for things to keep. My other half and I had only recently moved into our first of three flats together (damn, was that really 4 years ago?) and they had a fantastic folding oak table with matching chairs. I just had to throw them away. She's keeping the chairs but the table was left by the skip at the end of the road. I really hope someone salvages it, I felt awful leaving in there in the street. At least I still have Ken's cribbage board to remember them by.
When we moved in together, I'd never lived with anyone before and I knew co-habiting with an OCD sufferer would be tough. I never realised how terrible OCD sufferers could be to someone until today. Once I'd got all my stuff on the pavement to be packed into the car and I'd checked around inside for anything we'd missed, she and her mother and her mother's boyfriend locked the flat and walked off into town to see the Kemptown carnival. After five years together all I got was a wave before she turned away, walked up the street and disappeared into the crowd. She didn't look back.
She didn't say goodbye.