Thursday, July 3, 2008

Dear Husband,

First, I'd like to say to you what I said the night I first found your needles. Do you remember what I said? I bet you don't. You don't remember things like I do.

I asked you to sit down, and I knelt down in front of you. I said, "I love you very, very much. No matter what, I love you."

And tonight, I hope you know that I love you very, very much. No matter what, I love you.

I saw that you've been reading my writing here on this website and that you've gone through quite a big chunk of my email. I also see that you seem to be pissed off right now, and you seemed to be pissed off this morning. I can imagine that reading my view of what's been going on in our lives could be pretty painful for you. I'm sorry if you're hurting because of the things I've said here.

I'm not sorry, though, for the things I've said. They are things I've needed to say, and they are true things. This is a safe place for me to say these things, and it has been incredibly healing for me to write the story of what has been happening to me through your addiction. It's helped me to process all my crazy, conflicted feelings, and it's even helped some other folks deal with similar situations. Writing this story has been one of the surprising gifts of going through this painful experience...the people I've met, the pleasure I've gotten from writing it all out...I've never done anything like this before, and I'm proud of what I've written here. I'm proud of the way I've grown.

I understand that you are going through a lot of hard stuff right now. I understand that getting clean is really, really hard. I know that you've tried some to find a job. I see the efforts that you have made. I also understand that I have played a role in creating the tension in our home, and I'm working really hard on myself to stop contributing to our problems.

I always knew that you might make your way here one day, and I've thought a lot about what it would be like. There's a part of me that wants you to be amazed by how beautifully I've written our ugly life story. I know that's not likely. There's also a part of me that hope you've been able to see through all the negative things I've said about you to the good things. There are good things here, and I still see them. I think I see them more than anybody on this earth, more than you even.

I wonder at your anger over the things you've seen here. I don't expect that any of it has been a surprise, since you've been living it. I've not kept my feelings from you. I've not disguised the fact that I've been afraid, hurt, tired, frustrated...Every situation that I've written about here, we've talked about. I also know that I should get out of your head. I don't like going through your head, and it doesn't serve me to try to understand you from the inside out. I've never been able to figure out your mind. I think that's part of what has been so attractive about you.

I'm honestly surprised, too, that you'd bother going through my email, which I must have left open carelessly. That is uncharacteristic of me, as I'm generally so guarded with my things after all the stealing that has happened in our house. I'm surprised because I never thought what I might be saying or thinking or feeling was really all that important to you.

I guess there's a little grace in this situation, isn't there? We're going to have to talk about it. You've heard have to have heard me after seeing the stuff I've written here.

I'm going to go get in bed next to you right now. I'm going to put my arms around you, and I'm going to bury my face in your neck and breathe deeply. I guess it's possible you'll read this in the morning. I'm planning to talk to you about it after we're both home tomorrow, and probably after my meeting. I'll need the clarity I'll get from my meeting to talk to you right.

Good night.