Dust In The Wind? Hotel California? Ouch


I am so terribly sad.  Deepest sorrow, truth revealed, lonely lonely lonely.

I am sad that I do not get to have any security, any safety with him.

I am sad for him that he is lying and deceiving, that his sobriety is a sham.  I think maybe he did want more from his life.  Maybe he is sad somewhere inside that he can’t be that person he keeps saying he is being.

I am deeply sad for me that I don’t get to feel secure and hopeful for us, for him.  I feel anger and resentment that he does get to feel secure because he knows that I mean what I say and that I am trustworthy.  He knows that I care, about myself, about other people, about keeping my commitments.

I have to know that he doesn’t.  He cares only about himself.  Only about his safety.  Only about his feeding his addictions, one way or another.  His life still revolves around his addictions, actively, acting out, giving in to that voice.

I am sad that I found what I knew sooner or later I would find.  I could tell by his actions that he wasn’t sober.  Cycles and cycles of retreat, vague explanations of things that had happened, meetings he ‘attended’ but wouldn’t talk about, hours he was unaccounted for, changes in his mood, suddenly being nice when he had been acting all addict just hours before.   Oggling women and flirting with women right in front of me and angry denial if I called him on his BS.  Attacking me for stating the obvious.  Only fleeting moments of acting accountable and authentic, then right back to gaslighting and blaming and self pity.  Looking odd, saying things which always seemed to have that ‘extra’ feeling behind them.  My gut, telling me truth. 

I am sad looking into Mike’s eyes.

I knew.

I knew.

I can be certain which things he is choosing to do over this next year.  I know what I am up against in my own work.  That my gut knows true.  How alone I am.  The depths of the sadness and grief I will have to be working through as I continue to face my pain and my loss and my sorrow and my damage, and figure out on my own what to do with it.  I think I am feeling sorry for myself.  Yes, I think I am.

Honesty.  All I ever asked for.  The only thing I never get.

Now I have a little more evidence.  Recent. 

Just small things.  Things he overlooked.  Things definitely from within the past month, no more.  Which cross the line.  Sobriety over.  Never been.  If I have found these small things, then I know that he is just better at hiding the really big ones.  If he is so out of control that he was this careless, then I realize that which he remembered to hide is much, much worse.  My gut is right, as usual.  I don’t get to have a real relationship.  I don’t get to have someone who loves me first and foremost.  I don’t get a husband who holds me dearly in his heart and his arms.  I don’t get to come home with joy and go into the world with the serenity of knowing how I am deeply loved.  I don’t get to have anything but a lying, cheating, selfish, empty addict.

He gets everything he wants, food, sex, security, family, his illusions.  I get nothing from this relationship but a roof over my head.  I have no security.  I have no loving husband.  I haven’t had sex in over a year. 

Most likely he had sex just last month, or last week.  No love.  Not someone who gives a damn about him.  Just obsessive, ritualized, shaming, fun, thrilling orgasm.  So much for intimacy.  So much for mindfulness.  So much for sobriety.

I think I can keep from raging about it now.  The fear rushed over me, and then I was able to let it melt away.  I think I can keep it as a sadness rather than a fear.  Maybe I am finally accepting my reality, sorrowful though I will forever be, that my marriage is ruined.  It doesn’t really matter anymore.  What he does.  How he feels about me.  I know that I don’t really matter to him.  I never did.  Nothing matters to him except that addict voice telling him how much fun his addictions are, how he deserves them, how one last time won’t hurt anything.  Just this one last time.  Just this time.  Ok, that one didn’t really count.  Just this last time.  No one knows.  No one needs to know.  We’re good.  Whew.  We’re good.  That is the real heart of addiction.  He is not him.  He is ADDICTION.  It runs his life. 

So empty.  So lonely.  So sad.

I am just so terribly, deeply sad.

I don’t want his addictions to run my life. 

I am sad because I had at least hoped I would get to do my work without living in constant fear and deep sadness.  That maybe, just maybe, he would finally mean what he said.  But I guess that is what my pain is about.  That is the basis of my work.  Feeling alone.  Feeling betrayed by someone I deeply loved and trusted.  Being sad and wounded to my core and having nowhere to turn in my intimate life.  A web of lies and deceit and feeling hated, that I just being in the way.  Used.  Feeling scared all the time and still having to figure out how to live.  Not hiding my head in the sand and facing my truth, trusting my truth.  How to confront lovingly.  How to stand my ground and state my truth respectfully.  How to know where my boundaries are, and enforce them even with myself.  How to…….  Love someone who can’t love me back?  That is what I had babies for.  Not what I want in a marriage.  I wanted a partner.  I wanted a friend.  I will do what I decided I will do.  I will do my best.  I will try to focus on my pain.  I will try to fix what is so terribly broken in me.  I will…..

I wonder what, deep inside, besides the addictive urges, I wonder what he really wanted.  I so wish he could have dug himself out and had those things, that life, that person. Fails before he begins.  Says he is only hurting himself so he can rationalize that he has no impact on others.  That he isn’t really hurting me.  I wonder if that is the BS SA tells, that lets them keep doing it.  So they never really have to look at the addiction.  So they never are really accountable.  Calling is a disease is not accountability.  Saying you are helpless is not accountability.  Blaming the partner for staying with the addict is not being accountable.  That secrecy from the person most impacted by your actions is acceptable, even preferable, deemed justifiably necessary, when it comes to your urges and actions is not accountable. Saying you really only hurting yourself, if anyone else feels hurt that is THEIR problem, not yours, is not accountable.   Just more lies the addicts tell each other so they don’t feel so bad.  Which, subsequently, means they have to up the ante in order to reach the next rush.  The addiction runs SA, not sobriety.

I am sad about those fleeting moments.  Only a few moments here and there when I really think he means it.  When I see a different person.  When he speaks with a new voice.  When he seems to really, deeply care.  When his brain seems to ‘get it’ and he isn’t projecting, or transferring, or denying, or obsessing.  When he may mean those words about how much change and sobriety and honesty, and I, mean to him.  When I feel I mean more to him than mere addict supply and addict safety and addict obsessions.  But he only means it for that moment.  When the urge strikes, he caves.  Indulges.  Binges.  Plans.  Executes.  Obsesses.  Denies.  Blames.  Justifies.  Self pities.  Shames.  Hates.  Judges.  Criticizes.  Cover up.  Hides.  Lies.  Rationalizes.

Geez.

I don’t understand how someone can live like that.

I wanted this relationship to be all about us.

Not all about him, or all about me.

So much for what I wanted.

It is still all about him.

He is still lying.

Still acting out.

Addicts lie.

I know.

Sad.

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