So 8 months and 6 days ago, I came home to find my boyfriend gone. There was a four sentence note on the bed that said something to the effect of too much water under the bridge and take care of myself and my child, along with his keys, his cell phone and a check for the next month's rent. I thought we were forever; he thought I didn't even deserve a face-to-face goodbye. Every couple has their ups and downs and the last two months hadn't been our happiest but I never saw this coming. I thought we were having “normal” problems and we would work through them. I was blindsided.

To further rub salt into the wound, we were supposed to go on vacation 5 days later. I kept hoping he would show up at the last moment but he didn't even call. I went anyway. Why waste a couple grand and disappoint my then 7 year old? But I was wrecked in paradise. I could barely function. I didn't even really enjoy my trip to the spa, although that was the best diversion of the week. I spent most of that week praying, walking along the beach — UTTERLY ALONE — and smoking pot. It was at that time that I decided to give recovery another shot. I had 6 years when I went out in 2003. This relapse was “functional.” I didn't lose my job, my home, my kid, my car. I didn't pick up any more felonies. On the outside, I don't think too many people perceived any great problem but my own spiritual bankrupcy led to yet another failed relationship and my life was set to permanent back burner. I am so thankful for my experience with the 12 Steps. It seemed odd that I would come back when there was anything left in my life, but through working the 12 Steps somehow my bottom had come way up. I knew I wanted what I had once had and I knew where to get it. 6/6/06 began my brand new (old) life.

Mike's closet has sat almost untouched since his departure. He left almost all his stuff behind. Clothes, electronics, DVD's, everything I ever bought for him, everything he ever bought while with me, even $30 in change. Pretty much all he took was his surfboard, a few changes of clothes and his shoes.

I'm in the process of cleaning his closet out right now. It is so painful. I'm looking at his clothes as I put them in the box for the Salvation Army and I just can't understand this. I just want to cry. I mean, it took 8 months to even get up the courage to look. It's like he died. All these memories are sweeping through my mind and they are all good memories. I wonder if anyone ever will love me. I mean, no one — and I mean NO ONE — ever treated me with as much tenderness and generosity as this guy.

I don't want to drink or pick up, but I don't want to participate in my life right now either. I'm very overwhelmed.

I just thought I'd share so maybe someone would say something encouraging. I know I'll walk through this but I really feel like I cannot do it alone.

Well, the dryer needs me. The laundry just never ends…

Thanks for listening!

~Suzy