It’s one of those days where every time I replay the events of this most recent wretched wretch of a Monday I shut my eyes tight and want to bang my head against a wall. I just feel stupid.
I was the one who got him to open the door and then the rest followed in the spirit of “Surprise! It’s your intervention!” We all were standing there extending our hearts in love and begging to be accepted, to be selected, to be more than that thing - that cocaine there in the glass tube. And what happened? We were pushed out, shoved away. He wouldn’t even give me a hug. All over. Gone. He hasn’t tried to call, text message, email, show up unannounced and repent. Nothing. He’s gone and made his choice.
At least that’s how it feels and I can’t shake the sense that I was lied to all along. There I believed him when he said he wanted help. I thought we were helping. But it wasn’t the truth. He spoon fed me the lies I wanted to hear so I would be a good little codependent and keep quiet about my discontent.
I just can’t believe he chose the drugs over me! Not just over me but over his entire family and his best friends. He couldn’t even in that crisis, break through the denial to accept help.
Q. What are your reasons?
A. I don’t have any! I’m just not going!
And so we ended it. In failure. Heartbroken.
No comments:
Post a Comment