The Aftermath

The week that followed was so hard. In total we spent eight days together in hospital, with me taking daily trips back and forth, back and forth, between hospital and a hotel whilst spending endless hours on the phone keeping England updated. We are home, we are well, he is fine. My daughter survived her trip back to England being smuggled in the footwell of a Honda CRV with people we barely knew but who helped in every way possible.

Now I am left with the aftermath of all the events of the year and I feel so angry. This place of transition is so uncomfortable. Sometimes, I just want my life back. Life before Spanish adventures, single parent holidays, hospital admissions. Sometimes, I just want my life back just the way it was, eating Sunday dinner fantasising about where we would go on holiday next. My life, the way it was before it started to be what it is now. I'm stuck in this place of not wanting my husband to come home but not yet wanting what I now have. I feel cheated out of what I had. I loved what I had even if I now know it was a lie...it wasn't a lie to me, I loved it all.

For now, though, I must sit in this emotional quicksand waiting until I can come up for air and smell my life as it is now, want my life the way it is now and understand my life the way it is now.