Right now my kids are finally asleep. I wrote in my journal while balling so much my tears ruined the pages. He is staying in some ghetto motel by the week. I feel like "how bad am I that he'd rather be there than in our little comfy home?"...then I remind myself he is sick. Its a constant mental battle all day long, all night long. I feel at times like I am losing the battle. My heart is so heavy right now. He actually said today he is not capable of anything. He just shut down and gave up after 8 months of sobriety. I feel stupid and foolish for thinking anything would ever change, like my love would somehow heal the broken man he was. I will always love him, always.