"I got you this," he said, handing me a fruit cup. We stopped at the grocery store on the way to work this morning. He shoplifted a fruit cup for me to have for lunch. I hate it when he steals, but he meant to do something nice for me. It's like so many things between us.
We talked at the meeting last night about different people finding their bottoms, finding that place where they knew they had to change. You hear about addicts hitting bottom, but the parents and spouses and other loved ones affected by addiction often have bottoming-out experiences as well. People talked about realizing they needed to get away from the person who was disrupting the serenity in their homes...needing sleep, needing security. For some, it's missing money and the unpredictability of the addict's behavior. Others mentioned disappearing valuables, violent outbursts, feeling like they no longer knew their loved ones, feeling unsafe in their homes, feeling ashamed, feeling tired of being taken advantage of, finding paraphernalia...
I left feeling strange, and I think it's because I've done all of this. Where is my bottom? When will I be tired of being tired enough to stop? I'm afraid I'm bottomless.
It's like living with a pet. The pet might piss the floor or chew your shoes or leave lots of hair around, but if you love the pet enough, you tolerate these things for the comfort it gives you. I'm tolerating boxes chock-full of dirty syringes, unpredictable behavior, constant disruption of all the work I'm doing to make myself feel sane, safe, secure in my home...and I'm tolerating it because there are sometimes such moments of sweetness, such beautiful gifts. Sometimes, my husband is there, if only briefly, and I keep hanging on, hoping that one day there will be more.