vujade

Those times when you look into their eyes and see the torment and pain and you KNOW, without a doubt, that the illness is ravaging them...body and soul.

Today I sat in front of this beautiful, talented man who was spewing hate and accusations at me and I saw it. I saw the emptiness. I saw the pain. I cupped his face and just said "I love you. I truly love you. I know you are in there somewhere and I hope you fight your way back out some day before you die." As I said this, he was spitting over my words "No you don't! You only love yourself! You are Miss Perfect! You think you're better than anyone else." It didn't even make me angry...it just made me so sad that such a kind, gentle man is being eaten alive by alcoholism.

His nails are cupping. He weighs so very little, his clothes are hanging on him. He has that deep, sweet, disturbing smell of pickled organs. He has given up his passions and talents. He is losing everything and everyone he has loved. But he clings to his poison. No mentally well person would do this to himself. It's just so sad.

As much as it tears my heart to pieces, I did realize that I finally GET it. I get how you can love someone so much and feel pain for them but not allow yourself to fall into the pit. It was good, yet unfamiliar and awkward to feel love and compassion for someone without the codie-esque accompanying thoughts of "How do I fix this? How can I make him understand what he is doing to himself and to me?" Of course, part of me wants to cry out "Stop drinking! Stop drinking and come back to me!" but the feeling no longer comes from an insistence of action on his part...just a cry of sorrow from my heart.

Overall, I'm doing well. Today is just one of those days when the reality hits you, I guess.