My husband showed up at the house yesterday with a basket full of dirty laundry, both actual and metaphorical. He had a big speech prepared about how he has to live here because he doesn't have anywhere else to go. He said if I wanted him gone, I'd have to call the cops and make them come fulfill his arrest warrant.
After his big, stompy speech, he put his arms around me and tried to comfort me.
I felt kind of like I was going to explode from the pressure. A big part of me, of course, wants him to be here. I've always wanted him to be here. I'd been missing him, and the thought of him being back home was a great relief. Another part of me, though, knows that I'm not ready for him to be back. I know he hasn't worked through whatever he needs to work through or figured out whatever lesson he needs to learn for us to be able to be together and be healthy.
I didn't know what to say. I'm not ready to call the cops on him. I'm not afraid to do it, but I'm saving that door for when I really need it. I knew that calling the cops wasn't an option.
I decided to swath myself in sanity. I called some program friends, and I called my sponsor. I went to a yoga class, and I went to a meditation session. I stayed afterward and sought support from the meditation teacher.
I came home with a set of boundaries that I think I can live with, and with an option to help him be able to get to work if he can't live with the boundaries I need. We are going to revisit the situation in two weeks and see how things are going. We both agreed to commit to working on our marriage in the meantime.
So far, it's ok. He's working today, and he has found another side job to make some money. The deal breaker for me now is going to be what he does with the money he makes from the side job. If he's willing to give some up to help with the bills, then I will accept that he's doing the best he can to contribute, and I'll continue to live with him. If he won't...if something mysterious happens (like it always does) with this money, then he's going to have to find somewhere else to go. Since most of his reasoning for why he has to be here is that he can't get to work from his parents' house, I told him that if I realize I can't live with him, I'll still help him get a ride back and forth to work for a couple of weeks after he leaves.
Today, it seems workable. I am so glad to have him home, but I was also getting so comfortable finding my own way. I can't think clearly in the presence of this man all the time, but it's getting easier. Every time he leaves for a little while, I get a little stronger, and a little clearer. I'm doing the best I can right now, and it's enough for me. We'll see what happens next.