I live with an addict.
That is the only truth I know now.
I can expect nothing. Nothing positive. I have no one I can count on. No one but me. I have no best friend to turn to and to offer friendship to. I am alone.
I spent the weekend wishing I were dead again. If it weren’t for my son, I am certain I would be. Not just my spirit, not just my marriage, but my physical self. Moving on.
I am so tired.
I am tired of lies.
I am tired of being tricked and betrayed.
I am tired of no one keeping their word or having any character at all.
I keep doing searches, hoping someone out there has a real love, has found a faithful, loving, real human being to share their life with. I read about ‘good men out there’ . I used to think I was one of those women. I would have been the first on those sites saying how wonderful my husband was. Not perfect, but good and honest in the most important ways. Now, I always think that the woman just found what I found, someone so good at lying and pretending that they just think they found a good man. They just haven’t been hit between the eyes by the truth yet. They haven’t caught him cheating and stealing and lying, yet. Playing them for a fool. But they will. And when they do, their world will crumble and another person will be traumatized and humiliated and wishing they were dead.
I am trying to figure out how to make the best of the next two years. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to behave. I have become all those things he was afraid I was because I have been handed the most painful situation I have ever had to endure. I never thought I would be a perfect person in this situation. I only thought I would be a good enough person to not ever be here again. This is so unbelievably horrible.
A lying, cheating, stealing, hateful, misery loving addict.
I need to let go. Nothing I say will ever be right. He will forever look for every negative, turn pretty much anything I say into an attack, be looking for excuses to indulge his addictions by what a bad person I am and how he deserves to have anything he needs to make himself feel better. I will never do any right in his eyes. I am fooling myself that by trying I will make any difference, in his life or mine. I will only end up being manipulated by caring. And maybe, if I don’t care, I can be calm and not take his cruelty personally and not care if he is hurting because I didn’t cause it, he did. I didn’t treat him the way he acts like I treated him. I didn’t do 90% of the things or mean them in the way he takes them or hurt him the way he obsesses that I hurt him. I am not perfect. I am human, apekind, twisted brains and hopes and fears. But I didn’t make my best friend treat me like his enemy.
I didn’t. He did.
I just chose stupidly, horridly, and thought I had chosen wisely and with caution and with good.
I was wrong.
I would be a fool to rely on an addict for anything. Not truth, not honesty, not openness, not honor, not responsibility, not friendship, not love. When you really need someone, they will scurry off for the security only their addiction can provide for them. They cannot be there for anyone else. They have no foundation of their own, so cannot build any foundation for a relationship with others. They live to serve their addictions and cannot realize there is anything else. The addiction is their lover, their best friend, their escape, their demon, their god.
Two more years. I wonder what mind games I must play to survive this? I wonder what I will be when I come out the other end? I wonder what lessons I will have embeded in my person, for good or ill?
I wish I could give up hope completely. Then I might be able to move on in my heart. I only manage that for a short time, then fall again. That is like addiction I suppose. But hope, love, connection, those are things humans are meant for. Addiction is what happens when people are so horribly damaged that they will never trust those human things again.
Never trust those human things again. He will never, ever trust those human things again. I will pay the price for it, if I try to care about him.
I will never trust those human things again. He will pay the price, if he tries to pretend he cares for me. He earned it.
He would have to earn my trust. He doesn’t value my trust. He doesn’t value me as a person. He only wants me around to ensure his supply, his easy life, his security. I am merely an armchair in the corner, one he doesn’t use anymore, useless to him. But it his possession, that ugly, stupid, uncomfortable old chair, and he will keep it just in case he needs it. You never know. It might come in handy. He sort of likes the color. But there are plenty more chairs he can use, so he hasn’t any real need for it. Except it is his. It was given to him. He will keep it until the bitter end.
I thought I was getting communication, engagement, love. What a joke. What a horrible, monumental joke. I wish I would just move on. I am tired of listening to me hurt over the same bullshit again and again. Nothing will change. Nothing will improve. I try. I manage for a few days, then I cycle again. I see his face, see him turn ugly when he lies to me. My heart breaks to know that it is too late for him to change. He had a chance, when we met. When he first cheated and lied. It is too late now. This is who he is. When he is nice, it is a lie, all of it, a coverup for what he is hiding. When he is cruel, that is his true nature, suspicious, resentful, spiteful, vengeful. The man I loved never existed.
Three more weeks. Three more weeks and my 13 months is up. I wonder how I will feel then. I wonder if I can make myself detach from him. I wonder if I will finally stop wishing I were dead.
Truth is just another lie.