There's this well inside of me, a reservoir of hurt. I can go to it at any point and pull out an offense and just hurt, hurt, hurt...
Last night, he started picking his face again. We had this plan to go look for jobs tonight, like for real this time, for him, and of course, he started trying to fuck his face up. Every time it's time to go get a job, he does something to make it impossible.
He has asked me to stop him when he starts picking at himself. So I told him he should stop, that we've got to go get a job for him today no matter what he does to his face. He didn't like it that I said that we have to get a job no matter what he does to his face. As if I'm being unreasonable for wanting him to get a job. He threatens to leave me because I nag or complain.
My boss said this morning that everyone she knows whose been with an addict and weathered the storm of getting clean with him or her ends up alone in the end. The addict always wants to get away from the person he or she has hurt...either the addict can't deal with the guilt and needs to start fresh, or the addict is so self-absorbed that he or she really feels wronged by the person who helped. It scares me that I'm going to support him through all this and he's going to leave me because he can't deal with all the things that he's done to hurt me.
Last night, I was lying in the bathtub, trying to relax, and suddenly, I found myself thinking of how he'd been lying to me that insane week when he kept taking more and more money from me...he and his junky friend just driving around all day with my check card, spending all my money on heroin. I don't know how to let those things go. I don't know how to pretend that they don't matter when they just do. I'm still very angry and very hurt.
For the first time in my life, I am in a relationship where I am completely honest. I have nothing to hide from him. It feels good, and it's such a wonderful gift to be able to give to someone. It's the most loving thing I've ever done. And it doesn't matter.
I want honesty, reciprocity, love...real love, the kind that you can feel. In my life, I've had it at moments, in small doses. The first husband loved me, but I don't think he liked me very much. I don't think he respected me. He wouldn't try to stop drinking, at all. He cheated and cheated and made an ass of me. And now, I have this mess.
There must be something so deeply flawed about me that I keep seeking out these relationships with people...with self-absorbed, unfeeling addicts. They love me, but they love to drink or shoot up more.