Jumping off

I had breakfast yesterday with my sponsor. Actually, not my sponsor anymore, but she was my sponsor and I think when get back to program, she will be my sponsor again. It was nice to catch up with her. I hadn't seen her in a while and we haven't had too much time to talk lately. She was understanding about my decision not to go back to meeting until after my husband moves out. She agreed that what I need to do is stay angry. She told me, what she could NOT tell me when she was my sponsor- but can safely say now that she's just my friend. "Get the hell away from him and save your own life." We don't give advice in Al-Anon. We only offer experience strength and hope. Support in whichever path each of us chooses.

I can forgive later. Right now I need to stay angry. I can "Let Go" later. She agreed with me. She assured me that program will always be there for me. That I knew. I believe in it. It helps me move on. And I know that once he's gone, I will need help to get over it. But I can't get past it while I'm still living in it. Anger fuels me. Resentment keeps me moving forward. Freedom is my only revenge. It's the only way I can prove my point and not become a horrible ugly hateful person. My point? I guess that I deserve better. That I am worth more than what I have. I am worth more than what he thinks of me.

Co-dependency is a wicked whore. It's just as unhealthy as any addiction and perpetuates the disease in a very silent way. I enabled him until he was practically paralyzed by it and hated him every step of the way. I resented him for his inability to take care of himself, but I was always there to take care of him, so he suffered no real consequences except having to hear my bitch at him and tear him down for being unable to take care of things on his own, confirming his bad opinion of himself and keeping him stuck in his own self pity- keeping the cycle going. A vicious and nasty little circle. I admit, even now, it's a struggle for me to keep my mouth shut when I know he has very little options. I find myself looking for ways to help him, without it seeming like I'm helping him. (Luckily the larger efforts I find myself thinking about are quickly interrupted by the voices in my head- asking me if I'm "out of my fucking mind?".) It's hard to stop doing what I've always done, even if the results have been disastrous. I still CARE about him. It's hard not to feel somewhat responsible for the way things have turned out. His sister told me I probably should have left him to sink or swim years ago. And he would have swam, and maybe with less damage than he's got to carry now. He'll swim now. Perhaps with moderate assistance, but as long as he stays afloat- stays alive... that is all that matters. I think that the ones who will help him, realize that carrying him will eventually kill him. It seems that they are forcing him to do the footwork in taking care of his health- applying for disability, keeping up with his appointments, etc. Offering him assistance based on his own efforts. I think they realize the damage that has been done by all I did (all WE did) to help him and protect him. And really, he's much worse off now, physically and mentally- than he was three years ago. I knew it wasn't right, but I could not bear to watch him suffer- I guess I did what I did to make myself feel better- and in the end I know he just got worse. I have to accept some responsibility for that. Perhaps if he was forced to make it on his own back then, he would have gotten help before it got worse. Actually, I know he would have. Three years ago, using, without any other place to turn, he may have gone into a inpatient rehab center. That may have saved him.

I see that I've drifted into this place where it seems like I'm blaming myself. I'm not. This is not my fault. I know that. All of this began with the bottle. At the core of it all- it's an alcoholic marriage. It's a family disease and we all play a part. It's not my fault- I got sick too. The whole family gets sick from addiction one way or the other. There is a pamphlet called The Merry Go Round of Denial, and as silly as I always thought the title was- it's is absolutely true. Round and Round. More like a speeding Merry Go Round, fueled by vodka, cocaine and rage- throwing off that was not hanging on for dear life. Now we just have to look around, and pick up the peices that have been thrown aside.

I can't help but wonder, thinking about that analogy, why the hell I didn't let go when it started to pick up speed??