And I am not you.
I am not writing your words. I'm writing mine, my story, which happens to be in an optimistic chapter at the moment.
Every relationship with an addict doesn't end the way yours did. I'm in deep with the recovery folks, and I've seen some really strong relationships blossom from the same dark place I've just lived through.
I slide back and forth when people identify with my experiences strongly. There are moments when I love that identification, when the parallels between my life and someone else's make me feel less alone, less crazy, and hopeful that someone will have answers to the questions that continually pop up. However, when folks write to tell me that I sound just like themselves when they were married, before they wised up and left the fucker on his ass where he belonged, it makes me a little uncomfortable.
We're all leading individual lives with individual experiences of those lives, and part of why I write here is to share my story, my experience, and my life in a relationship recovering from addiction. As much as I find comfort in the similarities between my struggle and the struggles of other folks in recovery, I hope that I'm respecting others' unique experiences as much as I want my own to be respected.
And so, Anonymous, my nemesis, I am definitively not an idiot, and I'm not giving up on him. I'm a creative, intelligent woman, a wonderful wife, and a great writer. I have a weakness for this man who I love with my whole-heart, but I'm working on getting stronger, and I'm bringing my husband with me. He makes me happier than I've ever been when things are going right. The ups are just as intense as the downs.