Happy Post.

nataliedee.com

So, the Mexican heroin dealers are paid. It involved me staring out the window, watching, freaking out, thinking that someone was going to cut his throat, thinking he was buying drugs and lying, sobbing, yelling, blah blah blah.

But then, he came to me, and he said that he's sorry that we're still dealing with all this, and that it's over, now, or at least it's as over as he can make it be for now.

That was the end of the junky shit. Let's get ready for that meeting.

And so we got in the car and went to the meeting. It was kind of a rough meeting, as a lot of people who I care about very much are having a rough time, and I'd been having a rough time...but it was good to get it all out and see everyone and hug folks and laugh a little. The meeting was over, and I figured he'd be hiding by the car, pouting...but when I got outside, he was standing there, talking to folks. He asked if I wanted to go get some food with a few other people.

That was a good meeting. So you go to the one on Tuesday and Thursday? You want to go to the one next Tuesday?

I can't explain how happy this little development has made me. He was in a meeting, by himself, and he participated. He liked it. He saw how it would help him. He felt like he was in the right place.

We went out with a few folks after and had pizza.

On the way home, he said he doesn't know what's changed. He'd been to that same meeting before, but he said it was different before. He'd said that it made him think about doing drugs, but it's been long enough since he's been doing drugs now that he can get past the talk of drugs. The first meeting he'd been to, also, there'd been a lot of newcomers, and a lot of folks in real pain, crying and hurting. At that point, he couldn't do it. Now he can.

Isn't that wonderful?

We went home and watched my very last episode of my very favorite tv show, and we talked and made out like we'd just met. We stayed up all night, sleeping a little, fucking a little, talking a little, laughing a little. It's like I haven't seen my husband in weeks, and now, he's here.

I think some of the shadiness and evasiveness that's been driving me crazy for a while has been his attempts to hide the fact that he was still paying off a huge relapse debt. All the times that he's had money and not told me make sense now...and this huge change in him has something to do with the hope he found in that meeting last night and with that debt being gone.

So I know, all this could fall apart tomorrow. But today is full of sweetness and hope.

OH, and I almost forgot, he's going to work on Monday.

600th Birthday, and Observing The Natives.

This is my 600th blog post. It took 600 blog posts to get my husband to go to a meeting. I wonder if it will take 600 more to get him to go again?

And here's more about that meeting, as it's been on my mind all night. I was just giggling to myself because I kind of feel like I went there with this stance of a stuffy tourist observing the wild, restless natives. Mostly, my impression of the meeting was positive...there were some people there who were really honest, strong, and earnest in wanting to help others. I liked all the talk about keeping the doors open to other people and how the newcomers are the most important people there. There was a lot of hugging. There was a good energy in the room.

But there was a part of me that wanted to say, "This is all wrong! Sit down! Be quiet! Turn off your phones! Good God don't pass the basket around this room! Junkies steal! Read louder! Don't talk out of turn!"

And there was this other detached, journalistic part of me that was already composing my post about it before I even left. I couldn't wait to get home and call Vowels and tell her all about it. I couldn't wait to get online and write about it. I kind of want to talk about it at my meeting--raise it as a burning issue:

"I've been spying! I went to THEIR meeting! It's an emergency! They do it wrong over there! We need to go fix their meetings and help them out! They're never going to get fixed if they keep talking out of turn like that!"

And then we could all march across the hall and show them how it's done.

Silly natives! Here's how you build a fire! Here's how you cook your meat! Here's how you pray and love and dress and live!

I also laughed at the thought of that wonderful cat in a wizard suit, and how I could fix them all if I'd just unveil the wonderful, glowing poonahnah of victory that I had hidden away under my MPJ-inspired hippy skirt. It looks something like this, but with a wizard hat:

Another Shot.

Poor little rose, beaten by the rain
In the wind in the gale, thunder and the hail
Sometimes I feel like I'm going insane
Without the numbness or the pain so intense to feel
Especially now it added up through the years
And I, I taught myself how to grow
Without any love and there was poison in the rain
I taught myself how to grow
Now I'm crooked on the outside, and the inside's broke

I swear, that man I married has the most uncanny luck sometimes. I got an email from a local shop owner asking if I know of any artists who are looking for a job.

Uhm, YEAH.

So we're going tomorrow morning for an interview. I think it's pretty much in the bag, though, and hopefully he'll start working on Monday.

I'm trying not to be excited...expectations and all that.

(Yaywe'regoingtoameetinghe'sgoingtogetajobeverythingwillbefixed!)

Sorry.

First phone call:

"I love you."

"I love, you, too."

"What are you doing?"

"Working."

"When are you coming home?"

"Later. After my meeting."

"OK. I love you."

Second phone call:

"I'm sorry I'm a terrible husband."

"You're not a terrible husband." (I think: You're a C- husband. A terrible husband is an F husband.)

"I wish I could be better."

"It's ok."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"What are you doing?"

"Writing."

"When are you coming home?"

"After my meeting."

"I love you."

It's an experiment I'm doing, and maybe it's working, kind of. I didn't call him. I didn't fight with him after last night's little scene. I came to work. I'm doing my thing. I'm FINE.

If I let him work it out on his own, he works it out on his own. If I rant and explain and complain and cry, he gets defensive and never gets it. It's kind of like magic. I should write a book about mind control. I'm performing some kind of husband-curing hypnosis.