Borrowed Time

Tim has been moving in strange ways of late. And not moving. And now it is over two weeks since I last wrote a post, and I’m not sure of how that much time has managed to elapse.

It stops and starts. Goes absent without leave at night, as I toss and turn, and find it nigh on impossible to get to sleep, before awaking at 3am, knowing that there is another hour or more before I need to get up and go to work. Stressed to crisis point, I see the psychiatrist.

He advises that I am doing all I can – and some sleeping pills. I take some days of annual leave in Scotland. I lose time on the hillsides, and by the fireside, in Godly company, and wish that I could have spent longer here. I sleep, and wake refreshed,  and the stress and distress feel a long way off.

Back at home, I snatch time. Steal an hour to go swimming, when I won’t be missed. Try to distract myself with work – bring work home to have something to do. Feel guilty for getting on with things, being excited by things. Know that each day I could come home and find my housemate has been charged, his court date set. Life turned upside down anew.

The uncertainty is unsettling. It always was  unsettling, but now there is more than before, and I don’t know when the changes will begin, or what exactly they will be. And this feels like too much uncertainty and I want it to end.

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