long, rambling essay on not being bitter
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long, rambling essay on not being bitter
It’s a bittersweet day.
Today, the rosebush actually has buds on it. It’s a special rosebush. It represents a time when AH was listening and caring and thoughtful.
Many years ago, I was active in community theater. AH liked that, it gave us some space, I was doing something I really enjoyed, we got to see the show free. After one particularly difficult experience, a bouquet of roses was delivered to the theater, from AH. It was sweet. We owned a house already. I tried to diplomatically suggest that a gift certificate to the local nursery would net us roses every spring. The next show came along, and AH happily gave me a certificate, and a few weeks later we went and picked out a rose bush.
I don’t think he ever realized how much this meant, that he listened, that he heard.
Life goes on and we decided to move from that little house. One can’t dig up all the landscaping and take it, of course. But our little rose bush produced rose hips which begat, a few feet away, another rose bush. We potted it up, brought it to the new house, and planted it. It survived and grew slowly. I wondered how long it would take to get to blossoming size. We’d been here five years, then more. I wondered if I’d mis-identified it. When AH died in 2010, it still hadn’t blossomed.
I spent a couple years making sure I wasn’t going to get involved with another alcoholic. In time, I was ready, able, and willing to date. I found a sweet guy. He eventually moved in. He inadvertently ran over the Special Rose with the lawn mower. I can’t say I was devastated. I was sad, but chalked it up to fate. It would grow back in the spring, or it wouldn’t, and I could turn the page on it. Just in case I marked the location of the little stump.
Spring came, and new shoots arose. I scouted around, and found a spot with more sun in the front yard, in a garden bordered by stone, safe from the lawn mower. Rose was planted there. This spring, 16 years after we moved to this house, eight years after AH’s passing, the rose has buds on it.
People often ask if alcoholics can love others. Alcoholics are from the human race, so some do, and I guess some don’t. If AH had been genuinely abusive, this would be a different story, but he wasn’t. I wouldn’t advise anyone to stay in an abusive situation marked by tokens of affection. I don’t want to romanticize the marriage as being better than it was. Like most of us, most alcoholic do the best they can at any given time. For all the frustration and hurt and mis-steps, I look at this as a symbol, a remembrance, of the effort he made. It’s more productive than being bitter.
Today, the rosebush actually has buds on it. It’s a special rosebush. It represents a time when AH was listening and caring and thoughtful.
Many years ago, I was active in community theater. AH liked that, it gave us some space, I was doing something I really enjoyed, we got to see the show free. After one particularly difficult experience, a bouquet of roses was delivered to the theater, from AH. It was sweet. We owned a house already. I tried to diplomatically suggest that a gift certificate to the local nursery would net us roses every spring. The next show came along, and AH happily gave me a certificate, and a few weeks later we went and picked out a rose bush.
I don’t think he ever realized how much this meant, that he listened, that he heard.
Life goes on and we decided to move from that little house. One can’t dig up all the landscaping and take it, of course. But our little rose bush produced rose hips which begat, a few feet away, another rose bush. We potted it up, brought it to the new house, and planted it. It survived and grew slowly. I wondered how long it would take to get to blossoming size. We’d been here five years, then more. I wondered if I’d mis-identified it. When AH died in 2010, it still hadn’t blossomed.
I spent a couple years making sure I wasn’t going to get involved with another alcoholic. In time, I was ready, able, and willing to date. I found a sweet guy. He eventually moved in. He inadvertently ran over the Special Rose with the lawn mower. I can’t say I was devastated. I was sad, but chalked it up to fate. It would grow back in the spring, or it wouldn’t, and I could turn the page on it. Just in case I marked the location of the little stump.
Spring came, and new shoots arose. I scouted around, and found a spot with more sun in the front yard, in a garden bordered by stone, safe from the lawn mower. Rose was planted there. This spring, 16 years after we moved to this house, eight years after AH’s passing, the rose has buds on it.
People often ask if alcoholics can love others. Alcoholics are from the human race, so some do, and I guess some don’t. If AH had been genuinely abusive, this would be a different story, but he wasn’t. I wouldn’t advise anyone to stay in an abusive situation marked by tokens of affection. I don’t want to romanticize the marriage as being better than it was. Like most of us, most alcoholic do the best they can at any given time. For all the frustration and hurt and mis-steps, I look at this as a symbol, a remembrance, of the effort he made. It’s more productive than being bitter.
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Join Date: Jan 2018
Posts: 681
I have thought about your post all day. I thought the story was beautiful, both the circumstances you received your rose bush, and the way you chose to remember a situation that could have made you bitter.
I am struggling through something just like what you went through. I recently shared something with my RAH regarding something he did, that was one of the biggest hurts for me, from his drinking days.
It wasn't abuse, it wasn't an affair, he didn't drink away our house payment. It was a picnic table. He surprised me with an octagon shaped picnic table that he made just for me. It meant so much to me that he thought of me!
He said it wasn't his best work, he wanted to donate it to a friends camp we used every year, and he would make me a new one. I let him. I'm partly to blame there. My codie self thought about other peoples happiness, but not my own happiness.
That was 10 years ago, I never got another table. I still cry to this day talking about it. Its just a picnic table! It was more than that to me....it was an everyday reminder that he actually thought about me, my feelings, and what I wanted. That was a very rare occurrence when he was actively drinking.
So I appreciate your post, sharing something similar that happened to you. Your way of looking at it peaked my interest. You are choosing not to be bitter. I'd like to figure out a way to get to where you are right now. Thanks for planting that little seed. ❤
I am struggling through something just like what you went through. I recently shared something with my RAH regarding something he did, that was one of the biggest hurts for me, from his drinking days.
It wasn't abuse, it wasn't an affair, he didn't drink away our house payment. It was a picnic table. He surprised me with an octagon shaped picnic table that he made just for me. It meant so much to me that he thought of me!
He said it wasn't his best work, he wanted to donate it to a friends camp we used every year, and he would make me a new one. I let him. I'm partly to blame there. My codie self thought about other peoples happiness, but not my own happiness.
That was 10 years ago, I never got another table. I still cry to this day talking about it. Its just a picnic table! It was more than that to me....it was an everyday reminder that he actually thought about me, my feelings, and what I wanted. That was a very rare occurrence when he was actively drinking.
So I appreciate your post, sharing something similar that happened to you. Your way of looking at it peaked my interest. You are choosing not to be bitter. I'd like to figure out a way to get to where you are right now. Thanks for planting that little seed. ❤
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Join Date: Nov 2017
Posts: 14
My father, ex-husband and son were and are alcoholics (dad is deceased from cancer). I have learned in this lifetime that these flawed men have all the same passions, concerns and desires that the rest of us do. They generally end up hating themselves for what they have done to those they loved. It is a terrible thing to have any addiction. It rules your life even if you don't want it to. It makes good people become liars, cheats, etc. It is very difficult to overcome addiction and no one has ever done it because of a loved one. The alcoholic or addict can recover with the help of a higher power and their own ability to get the help they need in rehab or though AA, NA etc. It is not easy and cannot be forced on someone no matter how badly we want them to recover. I don't think anger or disgust for the terrible behavior that an alcoholic or addict exhibits helps anyone. We all need to take care of ourselves and make our lives as happy as we can. Alcoholics and addicts must do the same. There are no easy answers. I just don't believe that the illness these people suffer with make them inherently bad. I think it causes bad behaviors, but many, many good people are afflicted with the illness of addiction. Do what is best for you and your children, but remember that when dealing with the addict or alcoholic it pays to remember "but for the grace of God, go I". It could easily be you who has the addiction and throws away life's blessings for need of some substance. Try not to judge. We are all flawed.
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