Yeah, I know a lot of my ST buddies think I'd be better off insisting upon "no contact" with Bozo. Sometimes I think the same, but it is hard to enforce. We were really wrapped up in each other for several years and there are some non-intimate things he helps me with that he shines at, like mechanical work.

I had a lovely time Sunday with old friends from where I lived previously. My darling youngest daughter, grandson and her friends and children. Had a chance to air some of my mother issues about my daughter with friends/mothers who also struggled with letting go and change in their adult daughters, just like we did before I moved away and the girls were working their way through school and all the teen angst. There were a few tense and sad moments, but I didn't leave feeling like it was a failed or sad visit. In spite of all that is bittersweet about one's children growing up and moving on in their own ways, there are still strong bonds and love, perhaps deeper now than ever before.

Bozo phoned around noon today wanting to complete some things for me that he'd not done. The brakes on my car have been needing work and a month ago we purchased some better tires to replace the unsafe, overly worn ones on my trailer. They hadn't gotten switched. I agreed, but was a bit apprehensive because there were probably many more unspoken reasons for Bozo wanting to see me than the superficial admitted ones.

We had to stop my house for the new tires and wheels from the trailer. Bozo's bureaus are still sitting on the porch. I apologized for having them outside like that, but it was enough to move them out when he said he was coming for them and I wasn't going to move them back in again. He thought I must have had help to get them outside. It was prying on his part, so I didn't respond to it.

It rained all afternoon, so we took the car over to his Pa's shop for Bozo to change the brake pads. When I sat down on the floor of the shop, he told me to make myself a seat out of his tool box. I said the floor didn't bother me (had my grubby chore coveralls on) and stayed put. Instead of taking my word for being ok, he said, "Yeah, I know you're in a hurry. I'm working as fast as I can." I neither said or implied that and told him to spare himself making up criticisms to apply to himself for me.

While he was working, he asked if I still wanted his help on a pending installation job of mine and then negated it by saying I'd probably already found someone else to help me. Told him that I would enjoy his help, but was scheduling it for the same day as my meetings since the job was on the way. That would conflict with his parenting requirements. Didn't tell him they were CoDA meetings because he wouldn't know what that is anyway.

Once finished, we shared some weather talk. I idly noted that my evening chores would be unpleasant in the rain. He said that he'd offer to go help, but that would just cause me more aggravation. I told him that the offer of help was appreciated, but his making himself an aggravation to me in the process sorta spoiled it!

The conversation somehow evolved into my telling him that I was terribly sorry that things had gone the way they had. That my failing to put the brakes on and insisting that we slow down from the first (and many subsequent) warning lights had made him getting on his feet more difficult for him. That for different reasons, we weren't two whole people when we met and doomed to fail because of it. That I didn't want to make that same mistake again and was working on me. That's why we can't live together.

Not sure exactly what was said, but he didn't express any willingness to work on himself. I went to my car to leave and he followed me over asking/saying, "Then we're done, right?" I told him that I guessed so. I was doing my work. Growing and learning ways to make my life whole, better and more successful. If he didn't want to do any work to make himself whole and his life better and more successful, then there was nowhere to for 'us' to go from here. I could tell from his look it hit him hard in the gut, but he didn't admit anything. I left.

I didn't come home feeling drained and depressed like so often in our past history when I brought up problems that needed to be worked on and effectively solved. As sad and futile as the conversation between us was in many ways, I felt right about myself and what I'd said. I'm standing on my own two feet now, Bozo. Either get up on your own two feet and join me in an enriching and fulfilling walk, or continue crawling along in your brokenness as always before. You are not my job. I am my job.