Waffling
I've been going back and forth about the separation. I'm home with two kids, trying to work and get everything done at home. No tears shed, except for myself in a moment of worry about money and how I was going to do everything that needs to be done and not lose my cool. I've been a single parent before and did pretty well, all things considered, but I was a ball of stress that was known to blow and scream and rage. It's one of my real regrets as a parent and I've been working to change that part of my self, with some real success I think.
Overall, it's been nice to have the quiet and the lack of stress without AH there. It's also amazing to me how much food is in the fridge and how little trash there was out on the curb this week (double, on both counts). I guess I didn't realize how miserable I was, even with him sober and living in the house. I knew he was white-knuckling it. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. The kids are okay without him. I filled in the blanks for my son, who was disappointed and sad, but also sees the sense in what I'm doing. We've talked a lot about boundaries over the last few years.
Both sets of our parents are leaning on me hard to take him back ("he needs a stable family right now," never mind about the rest of us?). I told my family that this subject is off the table with me, and I can pretty well avoid his family since they're circling the wagons. AH showed up last night to see the kids and pick up some clothes, which was fine with me. He also leaned on me to take him back, and when it became clear that I wasn't interested in maintaining the status quo, AND that I also had some opinions about his actions leading up to this relapse, he got s****y and morose with me. I let it drop.
Later, I was screwing around on my phone and found three drafts of long emails I'd written some weeks and months ago about him, us, his alcoholism, other events in our marriage, what I wanted for myself. All of them were really cranky about his lack of commitment to the local sobriety community and how stressed out I was about this lack of commitment. I sent them all at once. I don't know why. I don't think he will respond to any of them. I just wanted all that grief "out there," I guess.
He's white-knuckling it at his parents house now. I asked what his plans were, and strangely, he has none. Two years and three inpatient rehabs worth of attempted recovery, and the dude still can't wrap his mind around meetings, sponsor, and surrender. Seriously.
Any weak moments I have -- all of which are inspired by the fact that while I don't want to maintain the status quo, I'm also really not ready to jump into divorce proceedings -- I go back to that fact. After all the pain and disappointment of this, after three rehabs, two years of being on and off the wagon, he still isn't ready to do what it takes to change his life for real.
The real breakthrough is realizing that I don't have to be party to that anymore. I just don't. And that's okay.