Friday, March 23, 2007

Breathing Very Deeply



He is doing much better. He is trying to be happy. He is trying to forget this horrible part of his life. He cannot understand why I'm not doing better.
I'm just not. I'm still unhappy. I'm more than unhappy--I'm absolutely fucking pissed off. He has taken something from me that I don't know how to get back. It took me long enough to trust him the amount I did, and he robbed me of that.

I'm also struggling with this idea of setting real boundaries, especially about money, but about lots of things--like my car, and when I go to bed, and how much I care about what he's doing that's unhealthy. I'm struggling because I know that there are things I need to do to protect myself and protect our marriage...if he's going to destroy himself with drugs, he's not going to do it on my dime, not anymore. He owes me too much money and managing my money responsibly is too important to me for me to allow him to continue taking and taking and taking without contributing to our marriage...ESPECIALLY now while these wounds are still so fresh.

And he hates for me to say "no." He isn't accustomed to it, and it's my fault because I've never said no before. I'm trying to calculate for myself all the things that I need to draw boundaries with: my car, my money, my sleep...those are probably the things I've resented most that he's fucked with through his drug use, so maybe those are my starting places. There's a lot more, though...like the way I'll clean the whole house, do his laundry, take care of everything without his help...I'm not sure when I should say "no" to him about these kinds of things...especially when they affect me. If the laundry isn't done, then I live in a house with laundry everywhere. If the kitchen is a mess, then I live in a place with a messy kitchen. It sucks.

I don't like letting go, though. I've never felt so connected to a person as I feel to him, and pulling back is fucking with my love for him. That feeling of connection and deep, deep love is my darling--it's a force that's shaped my life in the most profound way...nothing else has been such an influence as loving this ridiculous man. I don't know what it is about him, but I LOVE HIM with my whole heart and I have for so long...I don't want to let go of any of it, even though I know I have to so that I can protect myself from his madness. I don't want to not care about what he's doing. I don't want to stop caring if he's in the bed with me or not. I don't want to stop worrying about him and taking care of him, because I love him so hugely and fiersomely...I don't know.

I'm also struggling with boundaries and detachment and all the nar-anon stuff that you've got to do to save yourself because part of me is still skeptical of it. If I'm the one left to pick up the pieces of everything he destroys, then maybe it isn't right--it isn't fair to myself--to detach from what he's doing. If he's fucking up, I'm going to be left paying bills on my own, taking care of the house, the dog, all the grown-up work of our lives, on my own. It isn't fair that I have to hold us down while he deals with whatever he ruins, and so his recovery is very very important to me. I have a real investment in him getting himself together and not fucking up again. While I appreciate how detaching from him can help me emotionally and psychologically, I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do to protect myself financially.

AHHHHHHH. My friend told me that my life is "screamy" right now. That's a great word, isn't it?

Last night he walked out of his meeting early...it was the meeting that he went to with his mom. Apparently, the coffee he drank made him have to poop, so he left to go poop, but it freaked his mom out. She's awfully fragile right now. His dad was with me in the Nar-Anon meeting, and he is SO suspicious of everything. I mean, I'm suspicious of everything, but his father was convinced that he left the meeting early to go cop. I don't think that's it. I don't think he's actively using right now--really--like the feeling in my gut is that he's ok right now.

There is the other feeling in my gut, though, that tells me that he is not going to be ok forever...that this is going to crack and crumble because he's not doing anything actively to get to the root of his problems. I wonder how much I should be doing, too...I kind of want to bitch and make him go to meetings, but if his attitude isn't right, then the meetings don't do anything.

I need to make a list of the things I'm donig to help myself detach with love. Ahhh, the Nar-Anon speak! I need to find a way to work through the stuff about the car, though. I'm not sure where I want to draw that boundary. I know I don't want him using my car for anything drug related, but I don't know how to determine whether or not what he is doing is drug related without investigating. I could cut off his use of my car altogether, but that seems like it will be more trouble for me, and I am so tired of hearing him tell me that I'm trying to control him by being responsible for my own things...

Screamy. AHHHHHHHHHH

Lately, it feels good if I breathe in very very deeply. I don't know if my lungs are especially healthy, if something about the anti-depressant I'm taking makes breathing almost magical, or if it's just a way I've found to relax myself...but I'm so grateful for every relaxing breath I take.

Monday, March 19, 2007

I Hate My Husband


Right now, I hate him so deeply I can feel it in my toes. I can feel my hatred for him stinging in my cheekbones. I hate the knots in my stomach. I hate his constant lying. I hate that every time I venture to look at his phone bill, he has called his dealer at least 100 times. I hate his face. I hate his goddamned eyes and his goddamned hair and this whole stupid goddamned life.

Just this morning, I loved him every bit as much as I'm hating him now. I buried my face in his armpit and breathed deep. I laughed and put my arms around him. I looked into his eyes and felt warm and happy.

I should not have let him keep my car. It fills me with spectacular resentment. Oh I hate him. Now he is calling me to tell me he can't open the gas cap on my truck, which means that he has used up all of my gas, and also means that he is at least 20 minutes away from being here to pick me up. I do not want to be at work for another 20 minutes. This feeling of entrapment and frustration would be foreign for him, however, since he hasn't been to work in over a month now.
I do not want to be at work anymore. Oh my god I hate him.