Cocaine Widow

In some respects tonight was the worst night of my life. I had been looking for my husband all day, afraid that the paycheck he didn’t deposit to the bank yesterday had somehow made it up his nose, while I have bills to pay. I finally found him at his brother’s, with his phone off. I took what I needed and tried to leave, which turned into a scene, followed by numerous calls to my cell.

After thinking about what I wanted to say, I answered. I told him, like many times before. It’s over. I’m done. I don’t want to be married anymore. It won’t change. I can’t do it. I can’t go back. And then, the words I didn’t want to say came out, “I found someone else.”

I don’t know when it actually sunk in, but I heard a crack of emotion in my husband’s voice, finally realizing  he wasn’t going to talk his way back home… that this was for real. It was like someone had died. He told me he had lost the best friend he ever had, and I listened silently as he blamed himself. I felt the same regret and sadness he did that it was all lost somehow.

But it was with great pain that I watched my once strong and talented love crumble and lose his way in the mental warfare of cocaine addiction. I witnessed things I wished I hadn’t, and I also let it take a toll on me. I have seen the effects of his addiction on my son, which basically means he has lost his father. His birthday came and went with an awkward visit from my husband, But I still worry about him. I loved him so much once. I never doubted him. And how that trust had to be stolen from me by drugs I will never understand.

Tonight, like many times before, my husband begged for another chance. Promised to change everything about himself… something that, if it is possible, can’t be done overnight. He needs to get better. He told me he would get us through until September, when I can get health insurance from my employer. After that, he said, he didn’t know. He said he can’t take losing us. He said he wants to get away. But he also wants to get himself together. Whatever that means, I hope he can do it someday soon, and not miss out on too much of our son’s life.

He told me I deserve better. I cried. He said to find happiness. He told me to take care of our son, and that he always loved me. It was a rough way to say goodbye. But is there ever an easy way?