Day 13

There was no Day 12.
Well there was technically - I just took it off my books. It was a day of DOUBT. It was a day I didn't want to play in the universe. I sat on my chaise and wrote a long essay on doubt and how it has the ability to destroy love. Later, I ate a half a pound of jumbo shrimps and watched three movies from the Redbox. Throughout, the phone rang incessantly and eventually I took it off the hook. I knew it was him. The daily frantic call trying desperately to get through. Yet, I was stewing in my doubt.

When a call arrives from a Federal Prison there are 2 options. Press one number and you are connected to the clandestine world of those locked away - your friend or your loved one. Press a different number and you essentially block that world from ever being able to call you again. EVER. I toyed with the idea of pushing that other number. I could end this grief, this stress, this depression by just touching a number. I could move on.

I sat on my slip covered chaise with its muted flower pattern and sought advise from the wisdom of the ocean pounding relentlessly below. There was no one else I could share my thoughts and feelings with. My friends don't know about my connection to this man nor would they approve. My mother knows, but she vacillates recklessly between thinking we need to support him via letters, calls and cash infusions to thinking we ought to slowly diminish the contact - kinda like wean him off the life support. In the end, with her fickle and capricious nature she is no help whatsoever.

I allow myself to sink and drown in my self imposed sea of doubt. Questioning myself relentlessly. What kind of life would I have with someone who has effectively and nearly systematically destroyed their own? What does a man do that is just shy of retirement age and has zilch for resources. I mean nothing. Zero bank account, no home, endless debt, 5 children - two of whom are now are severely depressed and threatening suicide, an Ex that wants over a million in back child support and a resume that says last career was in the pen washing pots and pans. Oh yeah, I shout out loud to the walls, "that's my man."

Except the love I had for so very many years for this person is now mired in more than a smattering of doubt.