More stuff to stuff

We had a fairly good weekend, with just our son around mostly, it was pretty good. Nice breakfast at Henry's and you took him to the movies this afternoon, but it felt very unsatisfying to me. I had talked about the bead thing and explained it a couple times, so it seems like if I bring it up, you will make sure it doesn't happen.

I feel like you're still trying to manipulate and control me, and keep being reminded of times in the past when you did. I don't want to view everything in the light of my now clearer understanding of your motives, that everything was directed toward using and getting drugs, but it seems that so much was designed to allow you to go use. And so much was said to throw a smokescreen over your actions. It's so tangled up and confused and ugly.

and if I express any unhappiness or sorrow, I'm all angry and all is hopeless.

I get a feeling of hopelessness after spending time with  you, the sense of life is useless, tiring and futile. I think it's a spirit of despair.  But God has not given us a spirit of fear and despair, but of power and love and of a sound mind. 
You said that I and Marlie and Pastor Thomas think you haven't suffered enough, haven't hit bottom and we want you to suffer more.  That is so far from all of our minds. Thomas is thinking about the ministry in Haiti, Marlie is working on her own addiction and separation from Mark and I'm just wondering if we can ever get back together. And if we should.

  I have found quite a bit of peace living without the constant criticism and drama.  I miss you so much, the you that could be kind and loving. That could be here with me, that could enjoy time together.

But that you has been gone for so long, I don't know if you exist. You seem to exist in a little foxhole that holds you and you peep out of it once in a while.  Then drawn back inside yourself and talk to yourself repeating the words that must go around in your head.  It's pretty creepy. And sad.  you would rather live in a tent than here, and alone than with me, and lose your children than quit using.  and somehow it's all my fault.