t42592

I met her three years ago, and we started as all couples do, sharing out baggage. She told me she was an ex-addict, among other things, and from there, our friendship blossomed. It's been three years, and a couple days, for me to finally admit that my relationship with my wife is falling apart because of her addiction. You'd think I would see it, but I don't know that much about the symptoms, or the behaviors, let alone the paranoia that she exhibits. You'd think I would wake up after the third, fourth, even fifth episode, but I thought my love for her would overcome. Even as a Christian, we're taught forgiveness. It's beyond all this, and yesterday was yet another new experience, with her asking me to go buy her drugs. There was apart of me that held the money she gave me in my hand that literally dropped the bottom out from beneath me, emptied my heart, practically dried up any measure of patience that I had for salvaging our marriage.

But I love her, and admittedly, I have loved her so much, that I've chosen to overlook her behavior in the past, in hopes the vessel we were on would self-correct. I'm looking at the fall ahead, standing tall, trying to be brave, all the while knowing the ship is going over. Who does that? I have been doing it for sometime now.

Crying.... I can't do it anymore. It hurts.

And when I think we're talking, really talking, hearing each other, seeing the issue at hand and agreeing--no, supporting her desire to get help--it feels good. But deep inside, I know it's a lie, so she can feel better about her intentions, but keep on using. And then yesterday, accusing me of being a tweaker. I don't use drugs. Never have. No interest. Even when she's high and we make love, it's so far removed from the normality that is who we are when she is not. I feel my wife, but the mental concepts are not my wife. She is warm, beautiful, loving, intelligent, and a great wife in so many regards. But when she's high, I don't know her--not at all. It's as if a stranger is occupied my wife's body, mind, and thoughts.

And when she comes down, no memory. Or denial, may be the case. For when her anger serves her to gain what argument she intends to win, it doesn't matter what I say, or do. The excuse she uses is selective in her memory, as long as the episode serves her needs, not mine.

Crying! And now we're separated, living across town. I suppose all the nitty gritty details of when, why, where, how, and what are less important than realizing it is no longer about her, as much as it is about me. And for her to ever appreciate me, let alone the pain I've endured, her recover will most likely require me to step back, out of the picture, and deny myself the warm company of a loving wife--free of her addiction (for those moments). You cannot just turn off the emotions, attachments, memories, and experiences--it simply does not work.

But you see, I love my wife. I love my life. And I hope that my decision to take care of myself, now, will help me recover. For now, I'll wipe away these tears and finish this, long enough to submit it and add my story to this board.

Crying...