Babyblue,
The first time my husband went into treatment ~ I remember feeling absolute relief. I was so thankful that the nightmare was over. I thought that he'd do his 28 days and get cured and we will live happily ever after. About halfway through this treatment, I started feeling resentful that I was at home slogging through all the crap of daily life while he was focusing on himself.
The second time he went into treatment ~ I was relieved that he was somewhere safe. He couldn't do any harm to himself or others and it felt good to sleep at night. I also remember hustling back and forth to the treatment center (an hour each way) because I felt sorry for him. I brought him clean clothes and snacks and visited him twice a week. He started to p*** me off about halfway through this treatment when he would call in his "snack order" for the week, but I was so happy when he came home ~ all was going to be well!
The third time my husband went into treatment - I really thought this might be the one. I visited him once a week and I attended another family program. The focus this time was me. It was a spiritual based program and I was so hopeful that it would work... it didn't.
The fourth time my husband went into treatment - I was just happy he was gone. He did his own laundry and bought his own stinkin' snacks. I didn't really want him to come home, but they had to let him out sometime.
I won't be around for the 5th treatment. It's a pathetic story and I am embarrassed to tell it. But I will say that I have learned a lot about myself during this 8 years and I am feeling stronger than I ever have.
I hope you will find support for yourself during this time...