My husband stopped by the house this morning. I am not sure why he was here other than that he was testing my tolerance for him to be here. I am tolerant of him being here. I would like for us to be able to see each other sometimes.
It was wonderful to see him, and it was hard to see him. It was kind of like getting water after a long run. It felt good to hear his voice, to feel his arms around me. It was hard for him to leave. It's hard to remember how we can laugh together and to know that it's not like that when he's here all the time.
There are a lot of interesting things I'm observing in myself. His parents are smoking crack. I am sorry that he is living with people who are smoking crack. That's clearly not a good environment for him. It's sad to me that he's in a bad place and that his parents are in a bad place. It's sad, but I don't feel like it has anything to do with me. They are sick people living in their sickness. They are people who I love, and I wish that they could get well. It is clear that they aren't well, however, and that they will make me sick if I go around them.
I don't know when this happened, this unveiling in my mind.
I know, though, that I had to go through everything I went through to be able to see these things. I had to try to bend and stretch and fold my life all up around the edges of my husband's addiction. I wouldn't have been able to leave him alone if I thought that there was any other way. If I'd asked him to leave one minute before I did, it wouldn't have stuck.
I shouldn't talk about it sticking yet. I might leave in five minutes to go pick him up and bring him home. The physical pull is that strong...I know it's not healthy, but it's what I want.
Today, though, I've gotten a lot of work done, and I'm pleased with my quiet house, my steady work schedule, and my silly dogs. I'm happy to have had a moment with my husband this morning, and I'm also happy to have had a day to myself. I know I need some more time to get clear about what's important to me.
I also know that even if I cave and let him come back home, I'll be better able to deal with his mess for having had a break. I am already having a clearer understanding of how he's struggling with this little bit of distance.
I am learning, too, that this is possible. Living apart is possible. Living apart in a permanent, separate way seems still way too big to consider, but having some wide spaces between us is real, achievable, and healthy.
I am learning that when I'm hurting, it's often out of fear. I'm afraid for my husband's safety and sanity. I am learning that when I'm afraid for him, I can pray that he will find his way.