I kissed a boy and I liked it. . .

Hmm,
Aren't old people supposed to be over it?

But we can't get together because of the tpo. And I'm not about to drop it because then there would be no reason for you to give us any money . . not that you do.

There's just never a job for you . . .  never enough money for me. And no, it's not all about the money.

If I was rich maybe I could just work and let you lay around and look for work. But it's just not the economic times for that.

J and I made up . . . he has been working weird hours at night on mopeds taking drunks home. Thinking about quitting school - I gave him some money for gas. His friends at church took up a collection! Gave him $180 and that made his insurance payment.

But he's 3 car payments behind and needs insurance on it.  Hopefully he'll keep getting work and study and I can give him enough to get him through.  He feels terrible. I don't know how he keeps going.

Sometimes I don't know how I keep going either. I wake up at about 6 and just pray till 8 when I can't stand the pain anymore and get up and start moving.
Getting old sucks.
But I'd still like to suck face with you.

Can't even tempt you to meet me at the grocery store.

You sounded happier

I know I'm not supposed to call you but it's like a craving. You're my drug.  I just want to talk to you every morning when I wake up and when I go for a walk and when I'm alone and when I'm with a bunch of people, and at night and when I'm at church or CR or anywhere else inbetween.

You sounded happy to talk to me and I was just unable to hardly speak.  There is so much I want to say and that I'm writing down because I can't talk to you.  Then when you're on the phone, I say nothing. Or I come across angry or unable to say what I feel.

But it was nice to hear you sound happier. Not sure if it's because I called or something else was just going well with your day.  I asked you just to get your act together and you said you were.


But you're still not taking care of your responsibilities.  I'll have to pay your traffic ticket because my name's on it. I don't think you will. Deadline passed, I sure don't want to go to jail for your ticket.  I'm already there in some ways - a prison of regrets and disappointment and loss. 

It would be so much clearer if you were dead or we were divorced. This is a better scenario, I know, and I have hope that we can be restored and have way better years ahead -- IF.  If you stop using. If you become honest and stop stealing and lying.  Ok, I'm going to choose to be a prisoner of hope . . .

Old love letters

I found some of the letters I wrote to you last year while you were in rehab. Some of them were on target for where I am now. One good thing about writing to you -- even if it's on a blog no one sees -- is that I can see it and if I ever wondered how I was feeling, if I expressed myself clearly to you, whether you got the message -- I can say yes.

I had to stop reading after a while and get to work. This is just so sad.

When I don't miss you

I don't miss you when it's Friday afternoon and you wouldn't be coming home anyway.

When it's Saturday night and you wouldn't be here anyway.

When I do miss you:  on holidays, like this past Labor Day at a friend's pool - you would have loved that.  When we went tubing with our son, you would have loved racing him down the river.  When we walked through the Indian shop, you would have bought him the knife he wanted.

When I go to bed alone, I miss you.

When I wake up alone, I miss you.

When we fight on the phone and you say something nasty like "I'll see you in a year."

In church, when we sit by ourselves, P and I.  When we're on a trip and you're not there.  When I wish I could call you.  When I wish I could see you.  When I wake up in the middle of the night.

When I read something I want to share with you.  When I'm alone in the doctor's office.  When it's time to make biscuits.  When we run out of bread.  When someone's got to be driven home late.  When it's time to clean out the trash.  When the lawn gets knee high.  When the garden is dying because it wasn't watered enough.

So there are some times I don't miss you.  But a lot more when I do.  I know, if I would just drop the TPO and let you come home you would be here.  In body maybe, like you have been for a few months this year. But I'd rather miss you most of the time than have you here using an drinking and lying and ignoring us and wait until you're clear on why you want to be here. And if you really do want to be with me.  All the time.

love,
Me

Have you ruined my life?

Sometimes I find myself thinking of all the ruin and destruction and pain you have caused with your drinking and drugging.  The anger and selfishness that follows you like a cloud of dirty smoke.  Stealing, lying, hurting your wife, your children, your mother, brother, your friends.  And you are the victim.

Every time I think "Wouldn't it be nice if he could be here and we could . . ". I remember that no, you wouldn't be here. You would be off in your own little world of using and selfishness . . . angry, bitter and alone.

You were gone almost all last year, and now I have a protective order for another year. I keep thinking could we possibly come back from this?  I know I can forgive, but can you quit?

that's the question.

Super sad day

After months of more using and abusing, adding alcohol into the mix and getting vulgar, profane and violent, stopping going to church, avoiding sex, your family, stealing checks from the checkbook and cleaning out the company accounts - not coming home every weekend . . . it was time.

One of the saddest things I've ever experienced, sitting in a courtroom waiting for a judge to decide what to do with our life. And a one year TPO was granted. Visitation on Saturdays for our son. (He doesn't want to go.)


 Child support to pay.  No contact of any kind. My heart is full of things I wish I could say to you, but unfortunately I've said them all and they fell to the ground.

I can't believe you would choose drugs, alcohol, porn and self-centeredness over your 3 beautiful children.

They are doing well - D. cooked a great spinach quiche and almond biscotti, J. installed the dishwasher and P. stayed up with me late watching a movie.

My friends all called to make sure I was ok. And my sponsor stayed with me in the courtroom and even took the stand.  I didn't expect that to happen.

All I want is for you to get clean and to live and be happy.  If it can't be with us. then so be it.  But I will never be happy about today.  Unless it starts a change that leads you back to me.

I dreamed this morning that you slipped into bed and wanted to just sleep for a bit, and I was so comforted, but worried - don't we have a TPO?  What will this do to the order?  We can't keep doing this.

Maybe I'll see you in my dreams tonight. Hopefully you won't be cross-examining me.

when will I learn?

Last night you were not where you were supposed to be, not where you said you were, which was at a meeting. And your eyes were dilated, and you lie lie lie!

So out you go. 10 degrees, that's your problem. Until the truck died at 5 a.m. and you snuck back in. Out you go, take it with you.

I have so much to do and you only take, not give. I never thought I would be the one taking care of everything and responsible for supporting my children. A lifetime of looking for miracles to carry us through, I'd like to just have a steady work flow and be able to pay the bills without being on the edge of having them shut off.

why did I think marrying an addict was a good idea?