Letter number 37: Contact
Dear Alexandra,
Today was a difficult day in many ways, I worked from home as I had my therapy call. So I didn’t have the distraction of getting myself ready, travelling to work and seeing people. I must admit I found it difficult to get much done work-wise, although did make some progress. The therapy call was helpful and reassuring, A. messaged just after offering the same kind of reassurance.
The questionnaires that precede the therapy confirmed what I’ve already ascertained in the last week, I have regressed and my ‘scores’ indicated worsening of both depression and anxiety. Not by too much, and not at levels that are a massive cause for worry or need for emergency interventions. But it’s frustrating to feel like I’m stalling on the progress I’ve made — but in the spirit of not dwelling on negative thought patterns, I’m a lot further along than I was a few weeks ago.
It’s okay to not be okay, that’s how the saying goes isn’t it? I know I’m being impatient with myself. Rather than brood or ruminate I decided to tackle the remaining things of yours in my house that I found after I last came to see you. Since my next HelloFresh order arrived today I had a tantalising empty box I could use — it was just the right size to fit in the board game, pair of boots and a few other trinkets I found around the place.
I packed them all up neatly and wrote a quick letter to explain that I’d found them and thought it made sense to just send them to you and that I hoped you were doing okay. I didn’t want you to think I was just petulantly sending things back to you, so the letter was definitely a necessary step. Then off to the Post Office to get it sent, and a diversion to the Vape shop on the way home. It was good to catch up with C. who works there. They are moving premises soon, but not too far away.
I also found your camera tripod when having a trawl for things I might have overlooked back on that day from hell, but that’s a bit too unwieldy and heavy to post so I’m not sure what to do about that. It’s currently sat accusingly on my dining room table — I guess I’ll have to find somewhere to hide it away, but then I’ll forget to take the chance to reunite you with it if it comes! Hardly a dramatic problem — although you might need it if you’re going to do the wedding photo gigs you have booked this year.
It felt a little better doing something practical, these were assorted things that whilst not constantly in my face were on some level niggling me by still being here. They are now winging their way to you via Royal Mail. I don’t imagine any of the things I found were things that you’ve been desperately missing but well, it feels tidier in my mind. I tidied away the Wish You Were Here framed print you bought me into the box too. More little steps. I think they help.
After logging out of a pretty unproductive day of work I watched a little rubbish on TV and spent some time with Sonic before heading out for football, I had a good game — although I think we lost, not that it matters! As ever, that hour on the pitch and the moments before and after are blissful little passages of time where I genuinely feel like I don’t have a care in the world beyond trying to get to the ball, make a pass, intercept an opponent’s attack. Luckily enough I have games for the next two nights!
Once home Sonic was out again and I was heading for a shower when my phone pinged with a text alert. I thought it might be S. checking in, but it was your name on the screen which froze me on the spot, I must admit. It was a bit stilted, “Hi. Did you send this correspondence thing?” — of course! The mailed puzzle thing I ordered just after you dropped a fuck-tonne of shit on me, when I was still desperately conflicted and trying to find ways to distract you from descending into all that online bullshit.
I quickly fired back a reply, feeling oddly vulnerable having literally just stripped off ready for a shower. Confirmed it was indeed from me, that I’d ordered it some time ago not realising that it would take quite so long to arrive. I didn’t tell you that I’d ordered it after the discoveries, the confrontation. Not sure why, I think the implication that it was something I bought for you when still blissfully oblivious is kinder, perhaps? I said I thought it seemed right up your street, you thanked me and said it looked good.
We didn’t ask each other how we were doing. No criticism of you there, I didn’t either. I do of course on some level want to know, but on other levels I don’t. I imagine it’s similar for you. It’s weird for a while communicating with somebody who you’ve been so intimate when that intimacy is gone at first. Even if things end less disastrously than it did for us. On some level it was actually quite nice to hear from you, even if we didn’t really actually say anything.
Luckily I was able to distract myself by hopping onto a group call in our Facebook group — great to catch up with N., S., S and latterly L. and I. — we talked high level nonsense, Sonic provided mirth and entertainment. That sounds positive doesn’t it? I didn’t brood over the contact, didn’t push it, and found a distraction for myself! I cooked an awesome dinner after the call, and have just finished tidying up the pots and more generally as it’s cleaning lady day tomorrow.
In truth, I don’t feel too bad — which is strange. I was struggling earlier today, and must admit I was worried that the text exchange might continue the descent but it doesn’t seem to have. Back into the office tomorrow, which I think will help, via the Polling Station for the local elections. More football after work, Friday in the office too and then more work, and some plans over the weekend. I must drop a message to K. to organise somewhere to go for a walk on Saturday, I think N. and D. are still away in their camper so I’ll await to see if they get in touch for evening plans. If not that’s okay too.
I’m hoping that actually communicating on top of the recent ruminating doesn’t reactivate Sherlock Bert. So far he’s been quiet, and I’m keeping my eye out for him. I think the best case scenario is that hopefully you’ve been left with some reassurance that I don’t hate you or want ill-fortune to befall you. And that’s true. I hate what you did, what you somehow became, but not you. More than anything all I want is for you to find happiness. It’s all I ever wanted.
Of course after more than a week of no contact you’re now squarely at the top of my Messages app again — sitting there accusingly with your last response unreplied to. I imagine you don’t see it like that, I know I’m reflecting back to how I felt always seeing my messages sitting there without response. I don’t think it’s that much of a set back, I could just delete the message thread — I can’t think it would be healthy reading through our historical texts, but I can’t quite bring myself to do that just yet.
What a pickle we make for ourselves!
I hope you’re doing okay, Bert
