I have been so deeply grateful for work, for the escape it's offered. As the end of each day approaches my insides start to rattle about, angst, sadness, fear, distress, longing, grief, pinging around my torso, escalating, letting me know in the clearest of ways that the night will be lonely and dark and miserable. This is what I come home to each night. And so I try not to come home. I stay at work as late as I can manage, knowing I have to rise the next morning and do it all again. Wondering how I'll do it.
Last night I finished work at a reasonable time, 8-ish, and went for a coffee and chat with a colleague. Time drifted by. Soon it was late, I was home, I stumbled into bed and for the first time in around 130 days, I slept.