No.

Our meeting this evening covered a lot of things, but I heard myself saying something that I'm not sure I'd articulated before about my boundaries. I don't know if it's a good rule or not, as it is rather subjective...but it's working for me now, kind of.

I have to set a boundary with my husband when whatever it is that he's asking me to do will make me feel resentful. Instead of looking outside of myself for what is right or wrong, and instead of looking at him for what will or will not piss him off, I look at me.

For instance, we crossed paths when I was about to leave to go to my meeting tonight. He wanted me to take him somewhere to buy him some food. It was a small request, but it hit me wrong. I'm broke, and I don't want to buy anything extra for him, especially not something that I wouldn't buy for myself. I don't want to buy him food and bring him back home and make myself late to my meeting. I want him to go to the meeting. I want him to want to go to meetings, generally. My instinct is to do whatever it is he asks me to do; however, the combination of all of these elements would have turned into a resentment for me. It was better to say, "No." It's not because it's wrong for me to buy him food, or because I don't want to enable him, or because it's not the program thing to do...it's because it won't be right for me, not now.

We bet each other over something silly a few weeks ago, and I lost. The penalty for losing is a ten minute backrub, and he keeps asking for it. I keep avoiding it. I love to touch him, to rub him, to be close to him...but something about this backrub business keeps raising a thorough, definite "No" from me. I think it's the way he frames it when he asks, with something like, "But you said you would!" or "But you owe me!" Immediately, I think of all the things he's said he'd do. I think of all the things he owes me that I'll never get. I say "No." It's probably not the right thing to do, not to keep my word, and to deny myself a moment of intimacy with him; but if my first instinct is resentment, I've got to say no right now.

I do wish, though, that there were a more concrete way to articulate where my boundaries begin and end. Some of my boundaries have become quite clear to me, and I think they are clear to him, although he challenges them sometimes. I can't let him use my car, ever. There's no wiggle room and no wavering. The answer is no, all the time. Other things, though, like, "Will you rub my back?" or "Will you buy me some fast food?" change depending on the day. If I'm feeling loved and appreciated, then the answer is more likely to be "Yes, darling, I'll do whatever you want." If I'm feeling like I've been taken advantage of or lied to, then the answer is more likely, "No."

I also wish there were a way to articulate to my husband that these boundaries are necessary for our marriage to survive, or for me to survive in this marriage. At a certain point, if I had continued giving and giving and giving like an ever-flowing teat of love and money and car and forgiveness, I would have had nothing left inside of me. That's not something he seems to be able to hear, though. He hears, "No," from the lips of the woman who, for the longest time, was his biggest supplier of "Yes."

Or maybe he can. I don't know. Maybe he's reading this, and I'll be in big trouble for writing about my feelings on the internet again. Gross.

If you're reading, my love, please stop. I love you very much, but I want you out of my head. It makes it hard to think. It's like trying to walk through the house with the dogs under our feet.

What Comes Is Better.

Oh I do believe
In all the things you say
What comes is better than what came before
-Cat Power, "I Found A Reason"

I've jut had a few much-needed days to myself while my husband has been out of town, and it has been wonderful. I needed it. Oh, I needed it.

I'm starting to feel almost like I miss him. I'd been dreading his return, but it's been long enough now. I'd like for him to come home, I think.

I am afraid, though. Every little sprouting hope feels so vulnerable, so tiny and scary.

He did this thing that I really liked when he was leaving town. It was new...he gets his money deposited into my account for his methadone maintenance, and I go with him and pay at the clinic because he says money is triggering for him. Because he is out of town, he is guest dosing at another clinic, which means that I can't go hand the money to the nurse myself. It's only for a few days, but I'd figured I'd end up giving him the money and just let go of the consequences.

Instead, he worked it out for himself to have me transfer the money to a relative who was traveling with him...his idea. He set a boundary for himself, and he respected it. That's new, and exciting, and it makes little sprouts of hope spring up all over me.

Boundaries.

Sigh. I guess I need to call my sponsor.

I'm struggling with those complicated borderlands between boundaries and control, acceptance and accepting unacceptable behavior, keeping quiet to keep my sanity and keeping quiet to keep a false sense of peace.

A few weeks ago, we'd reached a breaking point in our marriage. He'd gone to stay with his folks, and I'd taken his key to my home. I needed some time to think about what it was going to take for him to be welcome to stay here, and I came up with a few things, a few boundaries that are necessary for my sanity, for my comfort living with someone who has been in and out of active addiction and who has entangled me in all the insanity that comes along with it. I told him that he needs to be able to pay his own way, including both paying for his own methadone and paying half of our bills, and that I needed to see outward signs of recovery, beyond going to the methadone clinic. I need to see him attending meetings, working steps, building community, having a sponsor.

His response to these requests was to find a job, the next day, and to bring me money for groceries. He told me that he can do the things I need, that not only can he do them, but that he realizes that these are things that are vital for his own survival. Without a job and without some recovery in his life, he says that he knows he isn't going to make it, regardless of what happens to our marriage.

The job isn't perfect; it's only going to last for two or three months. It is, however, a job, and it's paying his bills and paying for his methadone. For the first time in almost a year, he's being a true partner, at least financially. That's a wonderful thing, and I'm grateful.

And he has been lackadaisically attending the meetings that are held in conjunction with the Nar-Anon meetings that I attend. He gets in the car, he goes with me, he listens and talks to the folks in his group. He has not sought out a sponsor, and he hasn't looked for a different group. Last week, he blew off one of the meetings because he wanted to hang out with his father. It made me furious.

So what I'm struggling with is where, exactly, it is that I've placed my boundary, and what my boundary means. I suppose that attending one or two meetings a week is better than never doing anything. I hope that he will continue to build relationships, and he'll find a sponsor (one that accepts his methadone maintenance...there has been some controversy at the N.A. meetings he's attended), and he'll fully engage the program. I don't know if he will...especially as he is doing well with his methadone and feeling very "fixed."

Part of me wants to yell and cry and tell him he's not doing enough. Part of me wants to ignore it. I don't know what would be right, and I don't know what it is that I want.

What I am most afraid of is that he will fall apart again, relapse, and that without the support and tools that he can gain from recovery, it will be another long, hard fall. I am afraid that we'll be on this roller coaster forever, and that he's not going to be a person who I can spend the rest of my life with. I'm afraid I'm letting myself down by letting him off the hook for one of the boundaries I set in order for us to continue in this relationship. I'm afraid that I'm borrowing trouble by worrying about his recovery when I'm knee-deep in the muck of my own. I'm afraid that if I don't worry about his recovery, nobody else will.

I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

BOUNDARIES.

I'm feeling pretty worn down. I'm sick, and I'm tired, and I'm overwhelmed on all fronts.

I got home last night, and I dreaded getting home the whole way. I dreaded it from leaving until pulling into the driveway. I thought and thought of ways that I could stay home, longer. I don't like it at my house. It's dirty. He's there. He's miserable and miserable to be around.

I got an email this morning on my work email address from someone he scammed out of money. This is the second time that's happened, and it makes me really, really uncomfortable. First, it's money he's had and lied about. Apparently, he took a couple of hundred dollars from someone as a "deposit," and now he won't respond to her. I never knew of him having $200. So where's the money?

Second, we work in the same industry. I don't know what this person expects me to do for her. I don't have money to give her for him. I'm sorry she got taken, but I've been taken bigger than anyone. I am afraid, though, that she will put the word out that my man's shady, which will reflect badly on me. I love my job. I don't want to lose it because of his mess.

I've got all these boundaries up that I'm defending tooth and nail against his constant onslaughts. That was a helpful way to get through what felt like crisis time, but it's not the way I want to spend the rest of my life. I want to be able to relax and just be married, to share and trust and be like regular folks. I'm tired, tired, tired of this vigilance. I'm tired of feeling at war. I know I'm sick because my body is rejecting my life. I don't want to do this anymore.