Coming Home

At the beginning, everyone kept saying I had to get out and about, they were right of course, but what most people dont understand is that getting out and about is only half the problem. Its hard to go out and meet people and not know who is going to talk to me, who is going to sympathise with me and who is going to avoid me. It has all happened. I dont mind what way people decide to do. Its awkard for them.

I can empathise with them and sometimes I even like it when they avoid me because sometimes its easier for me. Having said all that, an odd time the worst part for me is not going out but coming home. Its horrendous sometimes. In the early days it was huge and really upsetting. Now a year and a half later its no better sometimes. Yesterday I was in a shopping centre with a friend and we were just about done with the shopping and while walking out of a shop it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks that I was going home and there was no one to see what I bought, no one to look at me when I tried on my new clothes and above all there was no one to look at me in a way that made me feel special. It stayed with me for sometime resulting in my stomach being sick for quite sometime. I went home, put my shopping away and watched tv for a while. I went to bed and spent the whole night between short spurts of sleep and being awake. When this happens there is nothing I can do about it, I have to go with it and wait for it to subside.

Coming home is hard. I miss the way it was, I miss the comfort, I miss the familiarity, I just miss….  My heart is broken…..

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