Still in vicodin glory here. Love it. It keeps everything away.
Two things:
1) Cole is in the hospital on suicide watch. This is my fault.
2) I was the worst wife ever. EVER. This is my fault.
3) This is not Jacob's fault because he is spellbound, in love, blinded by his affections. I'm sorry. I can't turn it off with him. I never could, and ruining his reputation is yes, once again, my fault.
Reality settles in now and I try to stitch my world back together with an inch of thread and a broken needle. Life is ugly you know. Life can suck and suck hard. And yet these two stupid men just keep on loving me and I'm worth none of it. None.
I'm also never alone anymore and now I know why. But the drugs are good. I can't write worth shit but they're good.
A sober UPDATE:
Oh my god. Why they let me online in that condition makes me wonder about my friends. Here, Bridget, go take your heavily sedated self and write or surf or whatever and find your happy place and eventually time will sharpen your world into focus and you'll come back down to us.
Right. So I make my way back from space-cadet camp and I'm still not feeling a damned thing but at least I'm less half-baked. I am so lucky to have so much support around me. Everyone who was here and took the kids outside to play while they told me what Cole had done to himself. I hate his actions, I don't hate him and my kids don't deserve to lose him because I fucked up or he fucked up.
Cole wrote letters to us all and when Jake went to see him Cole told him where they were, and could he give them out so we would know he's not a monster? Geez, I know he's not a monster.
I am.
