randbaek

Its been a while since I posted, which is kind of ironic, since I finally have things to write about.

First, thanks to everyone that sent me messages and comments. When you're in a dark place a few kind words can make a big difference, and since I don't really have any friends in the real world, kind words were in short supply.

I was locked away in the psych ward for what seemed like an eternity. It was actually only a matter of days, but it was pretty horrifying for me. And weird, in a lot of ways too. I did get some pretty good stories out of it, and I'll be sure to share them eventually. In time, they'll be pretty funny, but for now it remains traumatic in my recollection.

I was given the option of getting out on the condition that I return home to Nova Scotia and live with my parents. It wasn't really a choice at all because I had to get out of there immediately.

I was able to spend one last day with Sarah and then I had to fly home.

I had never flown before (at least not while conscious) and i was convinced the plane was going to crash. It did not.

I've been home now for a couple of weeks and the lonliness is unbearable. Most days, when I was in Ontario, the only person I saw was Sarah. Without her around it feels like my entire life has been taken away from me, because it pretty much has.

Which proves why it was important that I left. Sarah really was my whole life, and thats an unfair responsibility to sadle anyone with. And after what happened I know she would be terrified of leaving me alone for any length of time.

I have a lot of time on my hands now. It should really be an enviable situation. I have no responsibilities. I have nothing but time.

Sadly, too much free time and desperate loneliness do not coincide very agreeably. My family wants me to concentrate on "getting better," rather than finding a job or going back to school or something, but this solution is killing me.

But the #1 rule in the "Post-Attempted Suicide Handbook" is to try and be positive, and I really am trying.

I've been going through all the boxes in my old room. I found lots of adorable pictures of Sarah. Some of them from almost 8 years ago.



I also found evidence of all the hobbies I used to have. I used to to draw...



...But I don't think I'll pick that up again. I never had a good sense of anatomy, so I couldn't really draw anything without having some sort of model or source material to guide me.

I also found my old piano books. I used to be a piano teacher, but there was no market for male piano instructors. I eventually had to give up teaching and for some reason I just stopped playing. I hadn't touched a piano in about seven years until a few days ago. It isn't like riding a bike, that's for sure. It's not quite like starting from scratch but I definitely can't play at a grade 10 level anymore. Maybe I'll take it up again, I certainly have the time to put into it.

I could write lots more, but I suppose I should pace myself.

Thanks again to everyone that's helped me get through this.