February 16: Heartbreak Hotel

I don’t know why I come to Spain really. It always seems to be tied up with heart-break. I remember being dumped by my first-love at University and coming out here for three days with Dad. I don’t think I said a word the whole time, just shuffled from place to place, from the beach, to the shops, to the car; trying to smile.
Now too it’s like that – only with a tad more noise from the seven-year-old and her jingly jangly DSi. Just me and my dark and gloomy thoughts. Since moving back to the South West, I've been back in touch with my X, who I was with for a long time before FTB. A good, good man, intelligent, caring, loving, generous. But, what can I say, we lived in two different cities for a long time, there were issues, an age gap, opposing gravitational forces pulling us in different directions. Was I not mature enough to commit? Was I too scared? Was it just not right?
Since moving back - and telling him about FTB and the baby - he has been (despite his deep, deep understandable hurt) overwhelmingly supportive. He would take me back, take Bump as his own, look after us, keep us safe and warm... if I want it. But the pressure's been on to decide - a month off for my operation but come the beginning of February, he wanted answers. And I couldn't give him any. I'm in too much of a mess, too confused, too hurt by everything, too muddle by the thought of navigating two men in my life (should FTB remain in it), too unsure about what will happen next. I just can't commit. So that's it. Bam. Contact-cut (his doing). No more communication. No more coffees / dinners / half-glasses of wine. No more hugs and tears and laughter. No more anything. He is my chief friend in the south west. My life here, until now, has been one with him in it, with him by my side, and I don't know my footing without him.
I'm appalling, overwhelmingly sad. About hurting him. About losing him from my life. About losing some possible future that might just work out as the best possible scenario for me and Bump - and him (seen as FTB has dumped us).
There is nothing to make the pain better. No phone calls for distraction. No job to consume time. No where to go. There’s just space and nothing-to-do quiet, jam-packed full of gut-wrenching sadness and worries and what-ifs. That’s the problem with holidays, I decide. You can leave all the casing of your life behind. But the core still travels with you, haunting you among the air miles and big sky. There’s no where to hide.