Cohabits die hard!

Do to unforseen circumstances our situation has changed once more and my ex has been forced to move back into to the house with me and the boys.

To be clear, we are not back together. We are having to cohabit and the situation is best described as dicey! We are less chalk and cheese and more mongoose and cobra.

This particular kick in the knackers came shortly before my birthday, which then turned out to be my darkest hour yet. I won't go into detail, but it was expensive, unhealthy, and completely soul destroying.

The hardest thing about cohabiting after such a difficult breakup is the awkwardness when we pass each other in a hall or doorway and need to make a conscious effort not to brush hands or touch in anyway.

Each time we pass by is like acting out a scene from Reservoir Dogs. I feel like Mr. Orange holding his guts in, trying not to bleed out.

Every now and then one of us unwittingly tries a bit of small talk and we end up trading barbs and glaring at each other.

Even doggo is feeling the tension!

Sometimes we accidentally have fun and laugh with the boys, or a song brings back memories and the tears start flowing. It doesn't take us long to snap out of it though and return to a state of discomfort.

The brain fog is starting to return. My engagement is diminished, my posts fewer and further between. The words don't come as easily and I have to make a concerted effort to write anything insightful or meaningful without sounding overly bitter.

The situation has also forced me to reconsider my dream of paying off the mortgage and using my pension to travel.

Instead, I will be giving up my keys and moving me and the boys into rented accommodation. Well, that's the plan for now at least.

It is far from what I wanted, but I'm happy to give up my fantasy for their comfort.

The most difficult part will be finding a place with no savings and little available help.

I'm told it's not impossible though and will be meeting local housing officers to go through available options in due course. I will keep you updated. Whether you want me to or not!

This leaves the ex and I engaged in a race to see who can get out first. On your marks! Gets set! Go!

Now there is more to sort out and no shortage of stress, my exercise, diet, and resolutions, much like my sex life, have been put on hold indefinitely.

Although, I will be starting my running up again soon. I know, I know. I'm the fatman that cried jog! I will this time. Promise! Besides, I always feel better after a run, even if that natural high is fleeting.

My counselling starts tomorrow and I am hoping to begin a phased return to work from next week.

The boys are all okay and the middle one is starting to integrate back into school again. He will also be getting help from the local alternative provision college while his CAMHS assesment is still pending.

So things aren't all doom and gloom, even if you do need a chainsaw to cut through the atmosphere.