I hate when my husband falls asleep. It takes me to a bad place. When he was using and I thought he was depressed and overworked (Vowels and I were just talking about the good old days when I never saw him because he wouldn't stop working all the time) and everything else, he'd sleep and sleep and sleep and never wake up. He'd nod off on the couch while we were talking or watching a movie. He'd nod off standing up or in the car or sitting with friends. He had this incredibly long, incredibly obnoxious blink that he did, all the time. I hated it, but I didn't know how much I hated it until now. He'd just close his eyes, as if he were very, very disappointed in you. As if the world were just too much. I fucking hated it. It's like a 50 year old lady gesture. A mom gesture, when she just doesn't want to see your lip piercing. He'd blink, forever, and I'd say, "Stop that. It's dumb."
I didn't know he was off floating in opiate euphoria, the son of a bitch.
So now, when he falls asleep, no matter if he has only had 3 hours sleep in 3 days...no matter if he got fired today in a way that was crazy and upsetting and disappointing...no matter what, my first thought is, "Oh My God. He's Using." Same thing if we don't have sex. I don't think, "He lost his job today and probably doesn't feel very good about himself." I think, "He's shooting heroin into his eyeballs in the bathroom and lying to me and now I'm going to kill him before he kills himself waaaahhhhh!"
I have all these tools now...I detach. I read things. I call people. I write. And, I know that he's not using...at least not today. I get back from the bad place more gracefully. But I still go there, and I want the space in my mind back.
I also am finding that when I'm not good, for all the reasons that I'm not good today, I go there more quickly and with a more fevered pitch.
I was lying in the bathtub tonight, thinking about this. All these things are so based in love and fear...I'm so afraid of losing him, of losing this thing that has grown between us. I don't want him to shoot heroin in his eyeballs and die. I don't want him to be such a fatal fuck up that I can't be with him. I want all the beauty that I know is inside him to come out. I want us to have a family and for him to be proud of himself. I know he can, but I don't know if he will. I want him to be ok, or better than ok. I want him to be wonderful and sure of himself and his place in the world.