The Calm After The Storm.

You're a part time lover and a full time friend
The monkey on you're back is the latest trend
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else
But you...

-The Moldy Peaches

I heard this song in an interview with the girl from Juno this weekend in all the Oscar hoopla, and I fell in love with it. You can watch them singing below. It's a good song.

It's peaceful at my house, the way it always is when my husband is picking up the pieces after a big relapse. The latest one was extraordinarily big and destructive. He's been quite sick and quite earnest about wanting to get better, as he always is after a relapse. He seems a little more inclined to do things this time than he has been in the past...but it's really hard to say what's real anymore.

I love him, so I want to see the best in him. I want him to want to get better as much as I want him to want to get better. I want him to remember himself.

We spent much of the weekend alone. He did the junky-purging thing that he does after a big relapse where he tells me things I'd probably be better off not knowing...for instance, he revealed to me that he's been using with his mother. I knew they'd had a history of getting high together, but I never even considered the possibility that she would be doing heroin. I'm pissed in so many ways...pissed at myself that I didn't consider that she'd go to that place. I should know...she's an addict. Whatever you think isn't possible for the addicts you love to do, that's probably what they're doing. I'm pissed at her for presenting herself to me as concerned about him, as concerned about me, as upset with him for spending money that could be going to support our household on heroin...especially when she'd sit there next to him, shooting up our bill money. I'm pissed at him for keeping it secret. The whole situation has the quality of an affair...and a creepy affair that he's been having with his mother.

They are both very sick. He's avoiding talking to her. I hope he wants to avoid talking to her for the next twenty years. I think I'll need that long to process it all.

In spite of all the turmoil boiling underneath the surface, however, it was a pleasant weekend. I love him most when he wants to get better. I hope it sticks this time.

Werewolf.

Here's an article from the Onion that reminded me of all the "Why would anyone stay with an addict?" debate from a few weeks ago.

Raised By Wolves.

Occasionally, when my husband has done something that seems completely insane, and I start asking him where in the world he got the idea that his behavior is anything like acceptable for a grown man, he will talk and talk and talk in that addict-ass way he has:

Well, I mean, I just thought that, it's funny how, hold me, I just need some space, can you buy me things, I don't feel like, I just thought you could, and I was thinking that maybe I could just, I need, why do you always try to control me, can I borrow $300,

etc.

And then I remember that he really might not know better. He grew up with parents in active addiction for much of his childhood...shuffled back and forth from relative to relative during the worst of it and left home to take care of himself during the better times. He's living like he knows.

I love his parents, in spite of the heavy baggage he's carrying on their behalf. They have always welcomed me into their home and shown me love and support during these last few months when I've needed it badly. And, it's probably important not to excuse unacceptable behavior by blaming his present mess on his sociopath camp of a childhood.

But it happened, and it hurt him, and it helps to explain things...when I find him howling at the moon, I try to remember that he was raised by wolves.