Relinquishing all hope that I can change you: that is difficult for me. I hope so much that one day you wake up and are you again. I love you, but the addict in you makes it so hard. Should love be this much work? Should a marriage be filled with this much resentment? The truth is, I don't know. The obvious answer would appear to be no, but is it different with an addict? It takes every bit of yourself not to leave, even when you feel you should. The question I can't get the answer to is, when should I give up?
The last few years have been my closest to leaving. Our daughter being born has made me less patient with your addiction. Every time the addiction took time away from our daughter, I started to resent you more. I would snap and talk of endless ultimatums. I know that a threat of leaving would do nothing to pause the drinking, but I would do it anyway. It is hard to understand that some liquid could be a priority over everything. I have asked you to get help, but it is futile. There are endless excuses and I know I enable sometimes. How do I ask you to stop drinking when you have endless physical pain and tell me you want to die.
I've spent nights holding you, not sleeping. If I were to sleep, you will kill yourself, you tell me. I am scared that we are slowly building to the day you do. We are stuck in a hopeless and helpless cycle, it seems. I just don't know if I can hold you up anymore.
My focus is no longer on you, but instead caring for our daughter. She needs you to be her dad. I don't understand how you could be so selfish. Our baby cries when you leave the house. How can you hear those cries and still leave to get your drinks? You leave your bottles around and I am always picking up after you. This is the part of addiction that baffles me. You could have your daughter and wife begging you to stay, but you will still drink. I am scared that this is how our baby will know you. Catatonic and staring off at nothing, unless you get a drink. When you get your fix, you come alive again. It isn't long before you get sloppy and sometimes aggressive. I have cleaned up vomit-covered bathrooms more times than I would like to remember. Excuses—I have made so many for you. I cover for you when people ask questions. Maybe I should have let everyone know. Can't you see the damage your addiction is causing?
You are not a bad man. As a provider, you are amazing. The trust is just gone and over the years my heart has been broken, each time by the same man. I am not sure how to get that trust back. Is it even possible? Those few hours you are sober, I remember I love you. I live for those hours. Lately, those hours have lessened and I am not sure they are worth the wait. There was a time I would wait for you forever. Funny how that happens. I am starting to think I would be happier without you. If I look at us objectively, I should have left a long time ago.
To be completely honest, I find it hard to remember what healthy love feels like. I feel lost and alone. I don't know if I can love you anymore, but I do know I can't fix you.
About the Creator
Mama Mood
I am a stay at home mom and love being home with her. At 29, I am a little bit broken and trying to find my way. Writing has been therapeutic for me. I hope you enjoy:)
"Directing Light: The Effect of a Sort Stranger"
In the clamoring city of New York, where the roads murmur with the mood of life and the high rises go after the sky, I had the joy of experiencing a genuinely striking individual — an unrecognized yet truly great individual whose benevolence and liberality made a permanent imprint on my heart. It was a boiling summer day, and I ended up lost in the twisted labyrinth of tram burrows, my mind whirling with disarray and disappointment. As I remained on the stage, gripping my guide and attempting to get a handle on the tangled trap of train lines, a voice got through the turmoil. "Is it safe to say that you are lost, old buddy?" I went to see a man remaining close to me, his face endured with age yet his eyes sparkling with warmth and empathy. He presented himself as Sam, and at that time, I realize that I had experienced somebody extraordinary. With a delicate grin, Sam proposed to assist me with exploring the tram framework, directing me through the labyrinth of passages and stages easily. He shared accounts of his own undertakings in the city, offering useful tidbits and support en route. However, it wasn't simply Sam's information on the tram framework that intrigued me — it was his steadfast consideration and liberality of soul. In spite of the intense intensity and the hurrying around of the city, he got some margin to help an outsider out of luck, without anticipating anything consequently. As we rose up out of the tram burrows and ventured out into the brilliant daylight, I couldn't resist the opportunity to feel a feeling of appreciation wash over me. Sam had not just assisted me with tracking down my direction through the city — he had reestablished my confidence in humankind, helping me to remember the force of sympathy and the significance of loaning some assistance to those out of luck. In the long stretches of time that understood, I frequently ended up considering Sam and the effect he had made on my life. His straightforward thoughtful gesture had propelled me to show preemptive kindness, to search for chances to help other people in my own local area, and to move toward every day with an open heart and a readiness to have an effect. Also, however I might in all likelihood at no point ever see Sam in the future, his soul lives on in the recollections we shared and the examples he educated me. He was something beyond a supportive individual I met in passing — he was a brilliant illustration of the decency that exists on the planet, and an update that even amidst bedlam and vulnerability, graciousness has the ability to illuminate the most obscure of days. Soon after our experience, I made it a highlight copy Sam's consideration in my own life. I chipped in at neighborhood covers, offering dinners and friendship to those out of luck. I assisted older neighbors with their food and paid attention to their accounts with authentic premium and sympathy. What's more, each time I assisted somebody out of luck, I considered Sam and the effect he had made on my life. However, it wasn't simply my activities that changed — it was my point of view too. I started to see the world through Sam's eyes, perceiving the magnificence and humankind in each individual I experienced. I got some margin to grin at outsiders in the city, to offer uplifting statements to the people who required them, and to move toward every communication with an open heart and a readiness to interface. Also, as I kept on exploring the clamoring roads of New York City, I conveyed Sam's soul with me any place I went. His consideration had contacted my life in manners I would never have envisioned, and I realize that I would perpetually be appreciative for the brief yet significant experience we had shared. Eventually, Sam was something other than a supportive individual I had met — he was a directing light in a world that occasionally felt dull and questionable. He showed me that even amidst mayhem and disarray, there is dependably space for consideration, empathy, and liberality of soul. Also, for that, I will constantly be appreciative.
By Nameless writer2 days ago in Humans
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