Cocaine Widow

I notice it’s been three months to the day since I’ve written a post on this blog. I believe I have successfully weeded out those with an unhealthy interest in my business… I was forced into tracing an IP address and threatening legal action. But it worked.

And despite the subject matter, the freedom to write again feels wonderful.

I don’t have a success story to tell. I wish I did. But my husband is living at his brother’s house. It has been 4 or 5 weeks since he left.

Today is my son’s birthday and they will visit tonight. I have no idea how it will go. My son never received the apology or explanation that he deserves from his father and he is still angry. He is also confused. I know he wonders how and why his dad went so far downhill and couldn’t pick himself up. He also blames him for all the pain I have felt, not to mention his own.

On March 20, my son had surgery for his Crohn’s disease. The recovery has been long, slow and steady. I know in time he will be fine. My husband and I managed to pull together long enough to get him through the surgery, but it was tense.

In the time that I have been away, the binges and lying to my face didn’t stop. Money we didn’t have was wasted. And of course, the promises to stop were plenty, when he was regretful and depressed.

I heard about all his good intentions, but never saw a change. And I had been living under the weight of his addiction so long, I was neglecting myelf in the process. While I worried about him, no one noticed I lost 12 pounds. 

Then when he told me about his experimentation with a more dangerous drug, I honestly gave up. We are  have discussed divorce, as reluctant as he is to do so … I had to be honest with myself and admit I didn’t want to be in this marriage any longer. Of course, the easy thing to do would be just stay, put up with it, keep hoping and believe whatever he says. But I can’t. The easy way out would still leave me lonely.

I realized that unless he did some serious work, it would never change. And by now, I feel that even if he pulled himself together, I am still missing all the love, trust, and safety of our marriage. It has all but been destroyed by drugs, lies, anger and betrayal.

I am trying to let go of the rage I feel, for my own sake. I am trying to eat better. Trying to sleep when I can. But I worry about him. He’s been having a streak of bad luck, including having his original wedding ring stolen while his truck was broken down. I wish I could help him, but he says if we are going to have separate lives, he doesn’t want my help. The one thing I am still willing to try and give him. I know what he really wants … another chance. And I don’t have it to give.

I guess he still can’t understand what all this has done to me.