With My Mouth Closed

I’m struggling to even know what to post here lately.

It wouldn’t be so complicated if he didn’t read the spiral sometimes. If he hadn’t lashed out in a comment still sitting in the moderation queue. But he does, and he did, and I find myself unable to speak.

I’m tired.

One sister was here this weekend. The other two weekends before. And I am so so grateful they were here.

He is not here anymore. He’s moved. Not just out of the house, because that happened several months ago, but out of the state.

But he’s also not where he is supposed to be.

I asked for distance – emotional distance, but I’m struggling with the physical distance being there and me still feeling pulled in to the emotional whirlpool.

He was supposed to get where he was going on Thursday. He didn’t. On Friday, a friend from there messaged me asking me if I knew anything about where he was.

He’s not missing – not exactly. There has been some communication between him and this friend now. But he’s still not there, every day with a new excuse, and every day I’m expecting a call from the hospital or the police department to tell me he’s gone.

He’s not here. But I’m still worrying about him.

I’m just so tired.