It is finished.

My failure is now complete, and the circle of nearly ten years is closed.
Megan and the vast bulk of her possessions have been delivered to her new apartment in New Jersey.

Thanks to the heroic efforts of Crystal and her hubby Kelly, and an 11th hour pitch-in by Hilfie, the truck got loaded. Crys made the trip up with me, mostly to make sure that I got back alive. Tommy Joe, my brother-in-law, showed up today and two truck loads of debris were taken to the dump. Megan's now-empty room needs to be vacuumed, and the last vestiges of her presence are gone.

This is a long-needed ending to a very bad pairing; she's a good kid, for all my bitching, but she and I are explosively non-compatible long term. She'll do well, I think; her boyfriend is a MUCH better match for her than I ever was, and gives her the dominant partner she spent most of a decade trying to turn me into. Everything arrived safe and sound, without even a bit of shiftage in the truck I so carefully packed.

And last night... after Crys headed home... the mood crash to end all mood crashes hit while I was attempting to have my first beer in months and relax. It... it wasn't a good combination; it let the bleak loose. I've been on the verge of tears all day, where what's left of my rational mind says that I should be relieved or at least moderately satisfied. It simply slams the failure home deeper. It's probably a blessing that the import beer I bought as a 'reward' has turned out to be too damned bitter to drink.

In the process of today's clearing of debris, I managed to stumble and twist my left ankle and bash the hell out of my right knee; I'm mobile, but only just barely. A fitting way to end the day, I suspect. I... need to find something to do with myself. I'm the queen of self-distraction, but this has me floundering. *sigh*