Friday, October 17, 2008

Bread at the Hardware Store.

"Come here," he said. I came. He pulled me into his lap.

"I'm sorry about the other day, in the morning. I shouldn't talk to you like that. I don't want to talk to you like that."

"It's ok," I said.

"It's not. I know you have to set stuff like that up so you don't get hurt. I understand, it just hurts my feelings when I feel like you don't care."

"I do care, and I don't want to hurt your feelings. I'm sorry when I hurt you."

"I know. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Sometimes, instead of my crazy bastard husband, I get my dream husband. He's present, and he understands how hard it is to live with him. We are able to empathize with each other.

At a meeting a few weeks ago, a woman said that she is learning in her recovery that trying to get support, love, nurturing from her addicted partner is kind of like trying to get bread from the hardware store. She knows that the hardware store won't carry bread, but sometimes, she really wants bread from there. In recovery, she is learning to go to appropriate places to get her the grocery store of friends in recovery or supportive family members. Or on good days, she can even make her own bread.

I really liked the metaphor, but there's a part of it that doesn't quite work. Sometimes, there IS bread at the hardware store. Most of the time, it's not there, but when it is, it's the best bread ever. It keeps me coming back.