Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Triggers.

Lots of things are triggering for me. I came home tonight, for instance, after having worked 15 hours divided up amongst 3 jobs, and my husband couldn't take the time to stop staring at the movie he was watching to say, "Hi." Or later, for instance, when he came to tell me that he was going to need some money to buy an MP3 player. But those are specifics, and I'd had a long day...whatever it is, I sure want to tear through the house in search of syringes or yell at him about money or do all the things that I can do to disrupt my own peace of mind. I haven't done it yet. I just want to.

I thought it would be fun to write about all the many and various things my husband can do to trigger my inner codependent freakout mechanism. It triggers me, for instance, when he's too needy, but also when he's too detached. It triggers me when he doesn't sleep enough and when he nods off. It triggers me when he wakes me up early in the morning, but also when he doesn't go to bed with me at night. It triggers me when he won't go to meetings. It triggers me when he goes and talks to other addicts...what if he makes friends? I don't want more people like him around. It triggers me when he lies...oh, it triggers me like nothing else. He's lying a lot lately, too. That one doesn't have an opposite. I feel safe when he tells the truth, even when the truth is ugly. I prefer it. I'm proud of him when he tells the truth.

My husband's mother's car triggers me, and cars that look like my husband's mother's car. Cars, in general, that are parked in my driveway trigger me, unless it is my car. My car triggers me when my husband touches it, goes around it, talks about it, and most especially when he wants the keys. My husband stealing things triggers me, and so now, going into stores with him triggers me as well. Sometimes, going to a store alone triggers me because I think about how I don't like to go with him. New objects in my house trigger me. I think they're all stolen. Dirty dishes, especially dirty spoons, and especially any situation that highlights the dearth of spoons in my cupboards--that really triggers me.

Losing things triggers me, even when it has nothing to do with him, like if I lose a document at work. When I lose things, I think of the other things I've lost. Syringes trigger me, anywhere and anytime. Beat it, diabetics. Bags and clothing in unusual places trigger me. I can't resist going through the pockets. Tin foil triggers me. I'm not sure why...seems I think it has to do with drug paraphernalia or packaging. And oh, yes, it triggers me wildly when he goes to the bathroom. I HATE it when he goes to the bathroom. I wish we had a glass bathroom, or I wish I had a camera in there to spy on him.

When I think of all the things that make me think, "I should find a divorce lawyer and just see about my options," I wonder that we are still together...I wonder that there are ever moments when we are happy. But really, there are moments. We are happy a lot of the time. It's just such a roller coaster...it's great, and then it's awful, and there's never anything in between. I wish he'd just be great, or just be awful, so I could either get my divorce lawyer or open a joint checking account, stop living in this borderland.