The methadone crisis continues.
My husband has been on his last legs at work for a long time, and it seems like every day is his last day of methadone. He keeps suggesting that it's very dire, that soon he won't have methadone at all. I keep worrying, preemptively setting boundaries, seething, fretting...planning to loan him money, then planning not to. Planning to make him leave if he starts detoxing, then planning to let him stay forever.
Today, though, I've decided to stop. I quit. He will have methadone, or he won't. He'll get a job, or he won't. I'll want to be with him, or I won't. Today, I want to be with him more than I want peace. Today, that's my choice. Fretting about it, about whether or not I'm doing it right, is getting me so bogged down in my own head that I can't possibly ever have the clarity to do it right.
My focus belongs on me: my body, my mind, my spirit. I'm not facing detox. I'm not addicted to methadone. I've got a great yoga class to go to in the morning. I've got plans with a friend to do something positive. I can surround myself with positive, healthy things that feed my spirit, and I'll find my way to the right answers.
For today, I'm firing my worries.