I wonder if my Guardian Angel is out there watching over me still. From afar. There are no noticeable signs. Apart from the fact I’m not in prison. Not like when she nursed me back to health after the prolonged and painful withdrawal from Valium. I knew she was there then. She was always the only one there. After I’d let her and myself down on our dream trip to India. Where I’d started popping 10mg of Val like they were tictacs. The crows on the beaches of Goa signal the dawn chorus at 4am daily and I wasn’t sleeping. A quick bike ride and £3 later I’ve got 50 x 10mg. Problem solved, nightmare created. How I must have tested her patience. Her love. Her sense of self.
I didn’t deserve the care she gave me over the 6 months when I could barely leave the house. When all I wanted to do was die. I didn’t deserve her lunch time walk up the hill to make sure I was ok or her love when I had nothing to give back.
But in that time I connected with her like I had never done before. She too with me. I forgave her the subsequent conclusion of her frustrations when she took another a few months later because of this time.
Why do I feel so connected to her still? As much as she blanks me I can feel her presence. Hoping I’ll make it without her direct intervention, knowing that she can’t break radio silence. That she can’t go back. That she can’t be my strength again. That she has a new life that I will play no part of. A new love. Her illness.
I hope I cross her mind still, even from a distance. It would give our time together some validation. Some meaning. Not a complete mistake. Am I am only a mistake in people’s lives? It would help me have confidence to get through this Alone, stop the self-loathing, help me focus and stop obsessing about what a loser I am. About how hated I am. Maybe she still allows herself the odd fond memory. There were many.
I wouldn’t be alone if someone cared.