It's been just over a year since I separated from the man I'd lived with for 38 years, moved cities to live with my son and his girlfriend and discovered while life could be good it can also be challenging.
The girlfriend was against me moving in, my son was adamant so at first it was....just okay, but it seemed to work. Then a few months ago my son, after 'taking too much of a drug' suffered a psychosis, with hallucinations, thought he'd been shot in the leg, trashed a few rooms in the house (holes in the wall, a tap ripped from the bench, pot plant smashed on the carpet) Police & ambo called, handcuffed, hospitalised. Phew!
I think this was the beginning of the end for my son's r'ship, and me living there simply adding to the gf's feeling she had no say, no control.
LOL....then my other son moved in! because his brother asked him to but which was another layer for the gf to begrudgingly accept. It's really been a slow train crash. We all know it's been coming and my older son who has a good job (functioning alcoholic) have decided we'll find somewhere for us 2 and see how it works. I've had my name on a rental site but everybody on there is "young, vibrant and chill" and it looks too exhausting for a 65 year old....lmao.....and it makes so much sense to live with family right?
As a last resort....the very last resort....is my former partner who told me when we talked that there was always a room with him (we're amicable) and I told him it would be me paying him rent, just like I do with my son.
It's a day-by-day dark cloud/slow-moving front. I love it where we are, lots of sun & space.....sigh
I feel like a lone jigsaw piece that doesn't fit anywhere.
Elle