This is a problem that both Andie and I have; if we find ourselves in a silent (or near-silent) atmosphere, both our respective minds tend to go into overdrive and focus on things that are… shall we say "unproductive", or perhaps unconducive to good mental health is perhaps a better way of putting it.

To put it another way, while the Aqua Sana has plenty of absolutely lovely facilities for just lying back, relaxing and even falling asleep, the quiet, calm atmosphere of the whole place — even our fellow guests tended to speak quietly — meant that we'd often end up thinking about our dear, precious lost boy. And, as harsh as it might sound, that's not really what we wanted out of the experience; we wanted an escape for a little while, because both our respective hearts and souls are so battered, bruised and broken after all the worry and uncertainty of the last week.

Our thinking behind still coming away on our holiday was that we'd be able to draw a temporary line, enjoy ourselves as much as we could while we were away, then, if it was still necessary, continue the search upon our return; meanwhile, we knew that Andie's mum would be taking care of our house and Patti, and would be ready to welcome Oliver home if he were to find his way back by himself.

So far that has not happened, and with each passing day I find myself worrying more. Where is he? How far has he gone? Has he been able to look after himself while he is missing? Has someone taken him? Or is he in distress somewhere, alone and scared? And if that is the case, how on Earth do we find him?

I know, deep in my heart, that there is no real way that I can guarantee I will be able to find him, and I also know, deep down, that we might never see him again, or be able to say a proper goodbye if he is no longer with us. That doesn't stop it hurting, though.

Everything will be all right in the end. It always is. As my therapist says, I am a survivor. I will get through this, just like I have got through all the other challenges life has thrown my way over the years. I just never thought dear, sweet, innocent, playful little Oliver would ever present one of those challenges — at least, not for many, long, happy years of companionship, anyway.

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The post #oneaday Day 732: Quiet contemplation is not always ideal appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.