24.08.20

I'm not sure I'm ready for a new week to begin. It was such a strange weekend.

Friday evening I returned home expecting an evening of wine and dinner with Andy to find him in the midst of a psychotic episode. It was a surreal and stressful experience which included an evening in A&E and a tentative day that followed. I felt an overwhelming feeling of love for him. And the strongest desire to look after and protect him but at the same time I just thought... Fuck this. I want to be a mother so badly but goodness what I haven't seen is that I am one already. Its harsh but, he doesn't take care of himself when I'm not there. He plies himself with coffee and nicotine, forgets to eat, too fidgety to sleep in the evening. And all the while, he's harvesting his worries and fears silently without sharing a word.

It ended up being a panic attack, something he's had a lot in his life but not recently. It seems it was triggered by speaking to his uncle about his grandmother who recently passed away, who, was a significant influence in his life. I thought he'd handled it very well at the time but his waters run deep, I should have known it might have manifested in him this way. But I did all I could do. We went out to Kew Gardens the following day and ambled about amongst the trees. Then yesterday we rested inside watching The Crown. We're going to get him sleep back on track, I think that's where the issue lies.

I only want the best for him but I worry constantly about what this will mean for me. On Friday night I was planning how I was going to leave. Then on Sunday we were talking about renewing the lease on our flat. It's all very confusing. But this is how it goes sometimes. The timing is bad, because he needs my support, not me leaving him. And my reason? Worrying I'm wasting my time...things might be better in a few months. Is 'might' enough? It's a lot to think about right now.

We'll see.