Rolling with the Roller Coaster.

I'm doing ok. It's kind of a miracle.

My husband spent the first night at home last night in about 10 days. Not because he wanted to or anything...it's not like he likes me or whatever. He just felt really sick and didn't have anywhere else to go.

I am his safe haven. I wish he were mine. Maybe one day, he will be.

I have found serenity in this situation. I cannot change my husband. I cannot even change his heart. His rejection of me is hard, and it makes me sad sometimes--I just don't believe it's really him rejecting me. It's him in his sickness, not him.

Every now and then, I see a tiny glimpse of my real husband. It's far away, like he's across a field, inside a house, behind a door. I can see him peeking through a tiny window. He's still there, just kind of trapped right now.

My love is patient, though. It is also kind. It forgives, protects, trusts, hopes, and always endures. I'll be waiting for him on the other side.

Prayer.

Please, God, help me to let go of this situation with my husband. Please help me to remember that it is out of my control and no amount of crying, stalking, cajoling, or other manipulations will change his course of action. Help me to trust that he will change when he is ready to change.


God, please grant me some release from this anxiety. My stomach is churning, and I am having trouble concentrating on the work I need to do for myself. Please fill me with the energy and motivation to take care of myself.



Please help me with wisdom and discernment in this situation. Please help me to understand, to the extent that you would have me understand, what is going on with my husband right now. Please help me to see when it is time to get out of this marriage, and help me to exit with some kindness and grace. And if it is not your will for me to leave, please help me to see my husband through your eyes, God. Help me to see that he is a very sick man, and help me to respond to his sickness from a place of love. Gird me for the battle, God, and keep me strong. Please grant me the power to carry out your will and to discern what it is in the muck and mire of this situation.


Please, God, help my husband. I am not sure what kind of help he needs, but you are. Please protect him from the darkness that is encircling him right now, and help him to wake up to his true calling. He is a wonderful man underneath all of th effects of his sickness, and please, God, help him to see himself as I see him. Help him to recognize the sweetness and strength that is in side, and help him to utilize it to get himself out of the corner he's gotten backed into.

It is my greatest desire that my marriage work. More than anything in the world, I want my husband and I to grow together along spiritual lines, to get old together and to raise a family together. I want to sit by his bedside when he is an old man, and I want many, many more years of falling asleep in his arms. If it is your will, God, that he be removed from my life, please help me to release him. Help me to have faith in your plan for me, and please help my heart to heal.

Thank you, God, for giving me people to support me while I'm hurting and place I can go to feel safe. Thank you.

Amen.

Let's Try.

My husband didn't come home last night. He showed up this morning at 7 a.m. I get lost between when he is bamboozling me and when we are having communication problems and when I am paranoid and when he's trying to hurt me on purpose and when I'm deliberately misunderstanding him because I like to feel the special pain I get when I'm being hurt by him. It's comfortable and easy there.

This part is the hardest part yet, I think. I am afraid of other women, and I think my husband might be enjoying me being afraid. We both feel like we owe each other a lot of hurting.

I made this site private because he's been reading a lot, and he is particularly upset about my posts about marriage counseling, which I understand. I should have considered how he might feel if he read my posts about our private counseling sessions. It wasn't my intention to hurt him, but I see how it happened. I don't really know what to do next about this stuff.

I needed to write tonight, though. My husband has been scaring me with the spectre of other women. Maybe he's actually screwing around with other women. I've been crazy and he's been crazy, and all this not coming home and not calling or leaving a note is a new trick that I'm not ready to learn. I am in a lot of pain, and I don't know how to make it stop.

That's not true. I know how to make it stop. I have tools now. I have a lot of people who love me and who will take care of me when I am hurting. It's going to take time and be hard, but I will get better. There will be a way out.

When he finally came home this evening, he said that he wants us both to commit to trying to respect each other's feelings more. I am glad he's noticing that my feelings are getting trounced, and I am happy to try to respect his feelings more as well. I keep asking him to tell me specific things I can do to be more supportive, and he's not able to tell me much. I asked him for a few specific things, like showing me physical affection, holding me when I'm having a hard time, and trying to control his anger from turning into an outburst, and in spite of how bad the last few days have been, he has been trying.

I love him. He's hurting me, and I love him. I want this to stop, but I'm not ready to stop it. I don't know where I lost my will to leave, but it's completely gone right now.

I'm doing the best I can, though. I only have a little work to do tomorrow, so I'm planning to sleep in, go to yoga, eat good things, take a warm bath, and go easy on myself. I'm having a rough time, and I got some good advice from my sponsor tonight about being kind to myself. I know how to take good care of me, and I'll put it to work tomorrow.

Insecure.

I am feeling real insecure in my marriage right now. My husband and I had a lovely day together yesterday, but there are a lot of things that aren't right. I'm not right and he's not right, and we aren't able to communicate about it very well at all.

I feel like my heart is going to explode. I hate this feeling. I have therapy today and a meeting tonight, and I'm sitting at the prayer center I like right now. I'm trying to turn this stuff over, and I'm having a real hard time. I want to find someone to help me work through these things. Maybe I can find someone here to talk to me.

Prayers and other such white light welcome.

The Return.

I spent Saturday night out of town with a girlfriend, and I came back home yesterday. I was a little worried, and I prayed all the way home about my return. My husband and I have established a stupid pattern for when we reunite after I go out of town. We hate each other. We treat each other like strangers, invaders, and enemies.

Before addiction undermined the deep current of affection and attraction that initially drew us together, we came back to each other after being away like lovers should. We were eager to see each other...passionate...affectionate. I would anticipate coming back home and falling into his arms and smothering him with kisses. Once the addiction started wreaking havoc on our relationship, though, it became different. I'd drag back home, stopping frequently to avoid the inevitable arrival at the scene of all the pain. It was liberating to get away from the dark cloud that hung heavy over my husband, and I hated coming back into it. I hated seeing him, and I hated that I knew shortly after I came in, he'd be distant and cold or angry or he'd ask me for things that I didn't want to give him.

On his side, even after the madness of active addiction stopped, he'd feel resentful that I had left him. He's chained to the methadone clinic, and it's been a long time since he's been able to go out of town. He's lonely, bored, and frustrated, and sometimes the one bit of relief he gets from the repetition of being home alone all day, trapped in his sick mind, is me. He's not always warm and fuzzy to me, but he does appreciate my presence and look forward to it. When I go away and am not around to take some of the weight off of his dark cloud, it makes him angry.

So we'd come back together, pissed off at each other before we'd even begun to interact in any real way at all.

Last night, though, I prayed that we would be able to see each other through God's eyes. I came in the door, and he rounded a corner away from me. I felt a surge of anger rise in me...he can't even say hello? I came to him, put my arms around him, and gave him a kiss. I felt his body melt against mine, and I felt his heart open to welcome me back home. "There's some dinner in the kitchen if you'd like some..." he said, tentatively.

My little gesture of affection allowed me to see his affection. Changing my own attitude, ignoring the voice that was asking me to see what is wrong with him above all that is right, opened my heart to all that was good.

PTSD and Me.

Ahhh, therapy.

We met with our new marriage counselor today. Our previous one, who I'd come to trust and respect, had to go away on leave for a few months, and now we have a new one. It was interesting.

I completely melted down in the session. I had no idea it was going to happen, but it did. My husband was yelling. I was talking about being afraid, and he was telling me that I am not afraid of him and that I was misrepresenting the situation to make it seem like he's a bully. I was shaking and crying and unable to speak.

Apparently, I am recovering from trauma.

It's interesting.

These counselors seem to think that the traumatic incident must be in my childhood. There certainly was trauma in my childhood, but it doesn't quite seem true to me that the trauma that is rendering me speechless in marriage counseling comes from those instances. Those instances got me ready to be in a relationship with my husband, but the trauma I'm reeling from right now is the trauma that has come from this relationship. Living constantly in a state of fear and stress and doubt for a couple of years has made quite an impact on me. I'm working on recovering from it, and I know that my husband is, too; however, the marks are there. It's real, and it's going to take a lot of work on both of our parts to get through it. I know I've got it in me to push through to the other side, but I'm not sure that my husband has it in him. The counselor today observed the lack of empathy my husband had for my apparent fear.

Unglued.

My husband announced to me tonight that he's not going to go back to anymore meetings.

No explanation, really, other than that he thinks it's not the right thing to do. He said he's been ritualistically attending meetings and not believing in what he's hearing there. I'm not sure what he means, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say. I think he expected me to fight with him, but I didn't. I didn't know what kind of response he was looking for, and I'm not sure how I'm feeling about his announcement.

We have developed a really nice Thursday night ritual over the last few months. We've been consistently going to the meeting together, and we've been committed to hanging out with each other after. We make dinner and watch television and talk, and it's been something pleasant and consistent, and just the kind of thing that I need to be able to begin to develop some trust. I am upset that he is deciding to stop going to meetings, which means that he's now in effect cutting all ties with any semblance of recovery, but honestly I'm more upset that our special evening is canceled.

I'm also frustrated that he gives me a really hard time about how little time I spend with him, but then he opts out of many of the opportunities we have to spend together. It seems like his idea of spending time together is for me to stay home with him so he can sleep in front of me, ignore me to watch television, or yell at me.

I am afraid that he is coming unglued. He spends his days in bed, and his outburst this weekend has rendered me somewhat speechless to express my feelings. I am afraid. I'm afraid in every way, and I don't like to be afraid.

I've started my 30 day prayer ritual again that I learned from my Al-Anon sponsor. Her suggestion is that I pray for 30 days before I make any big decision in my life so that I can be sure that my decision has roots in a sound spiritual place. Instead of running away from my relationship with my husband when it gets difficult, I am to pray about what God's will is for me in this relationship. My urge to flee is strong right now. I don't want to go backwards, but I know that if I cut and run right now, I'll regret it. I love this man very much, and if our relationship is going to have to end, I need it to end with some grace.

I am tired, though, of this roller coaster. I want the reigns back on my own life. I am tired of living at effect, and I want to begin to grow and move forward again. It's hard to do when I'm constantly sidetracked because of my obsession with my husband.

I love him. I want him to go away. I want him to stay always.

When We Sleep.

Ahhh!

I can't stop being too attracted to my husband to be able to set boundaries right. He's been being very sorry for being a jerk, and I've been too smitten with him to be able to talk about what happened between us this past weekend.

I spoke with my Al-Anon sponsor about it and about boundaries in general. I told her that so far, we'd not had much of an opportunity to talk because I'd been avoiding him except for when we sleep. She said that I should try to continue to avoid him except for when we sleep until he's been clean for a year. When I burst out laughing, she said that she's serious.

It's still funny.

It's interesting to watch someone who has been consumed by darkness for so long battling with himself as he's becoming more and more filled with light. It's interesting, but it hurts when he lashes out at me.

Unwired.

My computer crashed this past weekend, and I've been debilitatingly unwired at a time when I could have used some cathartic writing. I've forgotten how to write in a notebook. It doesn't feel real to me anymore.

My husband had a tantrum on Easter Sunday. We were having a lovely morning, eating a breakfast together that he'd made and drinking coffee while sitting in our swing in the front yard. The sun was beautiful. The sky was beautiful. The air smelled great.

We were talking about the church service we were about to go to and the potluck we'd planned to attend later that day. We'd both been looking forward all week to the events, and the day was starting off so warm and easy.

I started talking about how I'd been considering going back to school, and how I'd thought of applying to a lot of different kinds of programs...maybe social work. Maybe for literature. Maybe divinity school...

He got upset at the idea of me going back to school, and he was very defensive. I'm not sure what the idea of me going to school brings up for him, but it all culminated in him screaming at me and punching a(nother) whole in the wall.

It's been a long time since I've seen that side of him, and it scares me. I am still kind of reeling.

I went to church by myself. He apologized later, and I appreciate his apology. It was sincere, and I realize that he's in the first throes of the first year of his recovery. He's doing well, considering how sick he's been. He's detoxing from methadone gradually, but it's rapid enough to affect his mood. I understand. I empathize. I appreciate that he apologizes...but I am still not sure that I am willing to live in a situation that can be so volatile. I am afraid of him when he is violent, and I don't think I have many more of these incidents left in me.

It was particularly hurtful because I can't find anything I could have done differently. Often when we have a fight, I can see that I have a part in it. I might have been harsh with my words or blamed him for something that isn't his. While nothing I could do will warrant a violent response, it at least helps me to understand how the situation escalated. On Easter morning, though, there was nothing I could have done differently. We were just talking, and he blew up without a reason that I can see.

I've been talking to all kinds of sponsors and friends and therapists about this stuff, though, and so I'm hoping that I will work it out. For now, I'm still ruminating.

The Gun.

I spoke with my Al-Anon sponsor this morning, and I told her that things are going kind of shockingly well at my house. I am grateful for the peace that I'm finding, and I'm glad that I'm finding it, at least for now, without having to separate myself from my husband. In spite of how well things are working, however, I am frequently finding myself feeling as if I'm still braced for a blow. I am suspicious of the calm, and I'm sort of waiting for everything to blow up.

She told me a story she'd heard about soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after losing a limb. There were several reports of soldiers who had lost their limbs in battle while holding their guns with their fingers perched on the trigger. After losing their limbs, they still felt as if they were holding a gun, which made them jumpy. My sponsor told me that one way these soldiers' counselors helped them to lose the gun was to ask them to look in a mirror and picture themselves releasing the gun. After doing it repeatedly over some time, eventually they stopped feeling like they were about to shoot everyone around them.

I think I am still holding a gun in my phantom limb in ways. While everything in my life looks like it's going well, I wake up in the middle of the night fearing for my safety. I have flashes of panic and I'm sometimes suspicious of my husband.

Recovery serves for me as that mirror and that affirmation, that exhortation to let go of what isn't serving me anymore. If I keep working on my stuff, I believe that I'll drop the gun.

Just Swell.

I don't have much to say about my life lately. It's all going well. It's all just swell.

There are things that could be better, of course. I could make some more money. My husband could get a job. I could work out some kinks in important family relationships.

But overall, I'm happy. I am in love with my husband, and I feel loved by him. I have great friends. I have wonderful tools, and I'm learning to take better care of myself every day. There are fun things on my horizon...friends visiting, weddings, events. I am looking forward to these things. I am even thinking that my husband might be able to participate...which is exciting. He's never had it together enough to be able to come with me to a wedding or to visit family, and the idea that he can be my real date, a real boy, is exciting to me.

I am happy. I am comfortable. Today, I have enough. Thank God.

This is Kind of Weird and Jesus-Freaky.

Something happened to me last night.

My car was broken into. Someone shattered the passenger side window and stole my iPod. I hated to lose the iPod, but more than that, I hate having to pay to repair the window. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to afford to do it until I get paid on the 15th, and I'd have to drive around with a plastic bag taped up where my window should be. It made me sad. I've lost lots of cool electronics in my husband's active using days. I felt pretty sorry for myself for losing more stuff. I felt sad that I can't have nice things. I was angry about having to drive around with a flapping plastic mess of a window.

Lately, I wake up frequently at 4:30 in the morning to fret. I fret with amazing clarity at this time of night, and sometimes I'll get up and write to alleviate my anxiety or to record what the things are I am thinking about. Last night, I woke up and immediately began fretting about my car window. I couldn't understand how it would happen. For years, I put myself in dangerous situation after dangerous situation. I'd be out at bars and nightclubs until the wee hours of the morning. I'd go home with strange men or bring strange men home with me. I was frequently drunk or high or in scary situation where I owed drug dealers money, but never once did I have consequences for this behavior. These days, I spend my time at work or at meetings. I'm in bed most nights by 11. I go to church and I pray and I meditate and I don't drink or do drugs. I'm working on my shit, and I'm taking good care of myself, and still--I'm experiencing the consequences of my poor decisions.

I got myself all worked up about karma and wondered when I'd get out of the barreling effects of my causes. I've done a lot of wrong in my life and made a lot of bad decisions, and I wondered when would it stop. When would I be able to stop paying for my mistakes?

In a voice that wasn't my own, I heard an answer:

Ask God to forgive you for your sins.

I laughed a little at the idea. It seemed kind of cheesy, but then I heard it again.

Ask God to forgive you for your sins if you want to escape from cause and effect.

It had never occurred to me before that I felt imprisoned by my karma, and I'd never really understood the beautiful way out that the Christian portal to God offered. I got out of bed and got on my knees and prayed: Please, God, forgive me for my sins. Please forgive the people who have hurt me for their sins.

Thank you, God, for taking my past and using it to teach me lessons, to make me into a better person. Thank you for your grace.

The next morning, I got up and felt much better about my car, my life, my consequences. Even better, I checked my banking information, and I'd gotten my income tax refund.

Weird, huh?

What Happened?

I am still kind of amazed at how I lost my temper with my husband yesterday, and I'm trying to figure out how I slipped. I think there are a few things. Money is a big, big trigger for me, and it was a situation where I felt like he was being foolish with money that could have gone to bills. Also, I'd just checked out my finances and seen that I'm in a big old bind right now, and I am not expecting to be paid again until the 15th of next month. I was afraid, and to see him lackadaisically spending money made me furious.

But I don't understand what lead me to blow up so carelessly. I am generally really careful at keeping my tongue in line, and I said something really hurtful to my husband. Also, I set myself up for him to say hurtful things back to me, and I created a situation where I didn't get my needs met because he was too hurt and angry to be able to hear what was really going on.

I don't know why I slipped. I am a little obsessed with it.

In the end, though, it's been a good recovery for us. We had a good night after talking through it at marriage counseling, and it's a big deal for us to be able to get to the other side of a big fight without enduring hurt. I know, though, that there will be residual hurt on both of our parts for a while, and we don't need it in our relationship. There's enough residual hurt.

Why am I not perfect yet?

I Think I Got It.

My husband got arrested last week. He's had a warrant for nearly a year now, and he's been anticipating the day that the cops would show up at our house and arrest him.

It was odd how well it all worked out. He'd just finished an odd job, and he had just enough money to bail himself out. He called the bail bondsman himself, and I didn't have to do anything except drive the money around for him.

I was sad and afraid for him, but mostly, I felt really good about everything. Even in the midst of it all, I was able to see that God's will was being done. This warrant was something he'd been putting off dealing with, and it has been a real impediment to his personal growth. Now, he is going to have to take care of it, and it all happened at a time when he had enough money and internal resources to deal with it. Also, it happened at a time when I was feeling pretty good in myself, and I was better able to deal with it. He was put into handcuffs in our front yard at 6:30, and at 7:00, I was at a Nar-Anon meeting with my sponsor and my friends, telling my story. It was perfect, or as perfect as such things could be.

His court date is next week, and I am hoping that he will get his probation reinstated now that he's clean and willing. Whatever happens, though, I am feeling pretty good about it. I'm in a good place, and I've truly turned this stuff over. All I can do in this situation is to take care of myself, pray, and to love him and support him to the best of my ability. Nothing else serves me, him, or anyone else.

Whatever.

I am amazed of late by the things that fail to piss me off.

My husband finished another of his odd jobs today, and he got a pretty big paycheck. I am $500 short on our bills this month, so whatever contribution he makes to the bills will be a real big help. He called me a few minutes ago, and he's shopping. He said that since we have extra money, he wants to pick up a few things. He asked me about my shoe size, so apparently, he's also shopping for me.

Not too long ago, even if he'd sweetly said he was going to buy a few things for me, I would have been pissed by the idea of "extra money." There is no extra money unless he is planning to give me more than the $500 I'm short. I'm certain he's not.

In the end, I find it slightly annoying that he's making choices that I don't agree with about his money, but I'm still grateful that he's making better choices than he used to make. I'm hoping he'll help me out some, and I'll be grateful for whatever he contributes. He knows that the finances are pretty dire, as we are reaching the point where we are sometimes having utilities cut off, and I have told him recently that I am going to be $500 short this month. If he chooses to spend his money differently that I would spend mine, that's his choice.

My husband is kind of an ass with money, and I love him anyway. Getting upset about another bad series of decisions with money won't make him stop spending his money foolishly. It bugs me, but it's not a deal breaker--at least not today. It's certainly better than when he hid every dime he made from me to spend it all on heroin and cocaine.

So, when we get our power cut off at the end of the month, I'll smile at him in my new shoes and camp out by candlelight.

Roar.

My husband.

Sigh.

Last night, he performed a long soliloquy about his mother and all her flaws as an addict. She blames other people for her problems. She is unhappy but isn't willing to take the steps to make herself happy. She refuses to see the extent to which her addiction has torn her life apart. She refuses to change. He wishes she would change. She works a bullshit program. She doesn't connect with God right. She should stop going to AA meetings because it isn't really for her. She already has the spirit of God in her, and so AA has nothing to offer her. She needs to go to jail. She doesn't understand the consequences of her behavior. She's selfish. She's ungrateful. She doesn't appreciate how hard his father works to support their family. She isn't like other addicts. She's exactly like other addicts.

These speeches are hard to hear.

It makes me wonder, though, if he is serving as a mirror for me. When I am judging my husband for behavior that seems outrageous, I wonder if it's not sometimes a twist on behavior that I sometimes see in myself?

It Just Isn't Right.

Something isn't. I don't know what, but I know it's something. It's been helpful to me to record this little, niggling sensations, so I wanted to record this one.

My husband seems suspicious of me, and it makes me suspicious of him and edgy. I left town this weekend to visit family, and he asked me accusatory questions about my schedule. I told him when I'd leave town and when I'd get back, and it made him angry that my response hadn't been in more detail. I am just visiting family, so there isn't much of a schedule involved. We ate things. We hung out. We talked about stuff. We played with the children and ate some more.

Today, I began some counseling to help me deal with the sexual abuse in my childhood. It's a very big step for me, and it's something I'm proud of doing. What I hope most that will come of this counseling is to find a way to learn to trust myself. When I have feelings about my relationship not being quite right, I am often deeply distrustful of myself. I don't trust him, but I don't trust me, either. I don't trust myself to know when he's telling the truth or to know when he's lying. I hope to get some clarity.

A Dent.

We have done something awful to our home. It started with my husband having an idea. He wanted to move around some furniture. I tried to distract him from his idea, and it worked for a long while; however, eventually, he decided to start moving furniture around.

My husband has great ideas, but he has a hard time following through with them. He started moving the furniture around in our house, but he never quite finished. There are living room components in the bedroom and bedroom parts in the kitchen. Everything is in a constant state of discomfort and disarray, and it seems that we have finally given up. There is trash, dirty laundry, dishes...everything, everywhere. For a while, it drove me crazy. I don't care anymore. I think my antidepressants have taken the edge off nicely.

Much of the mess is my husband's. I have managed to keep my laundry from being everywhere like some kind of lunatic confetti. My mess includes books and papers, but it's a pretty isolated area where I've stacked the books, waiting for a bookshelf to emerge out of the wreckage. Because it is his mess, I am reluctant to begin dealing with it. It's one of the cardinal rules of recovery...never do for the addict what the addict can do for himself. This is a mess my husband has made, and it should be his to clean up.

However, it is disheartening to come home and see the wreckage. It makes me kind of sad and tired. He says every day that he's going to clean it up, and he doesn't. He doesn't even begin. In fact, it gets worse...more clothes go everywhere. More dishes pile up in odd places. It's pretty crazy.

So today, I made a dent in the mess. I started in a little corner and put away what I could. Some clothes went into a laundry basket. Some shoes went into a closet. Some trash went into the trash can outside. My husband was a bit upset with me for starting. He was worried I'd put his shoes in the closet in a wrong way...although the shoes were lying willy-nilly all over the house, underneath boxes and trash and crap, he was concerned that I might crush his flip flops underneath his boots by putting them away. I assured him that I'd not hurt them, and kept cleaning.

I worked for about 30 minutes, but it did make a little difference. If I work for 30 minutes or so a day for the next million years, maybe at the end of it there will be a real house there, like people live in instead of wild animals. We'll see.

Confluence.

"Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase."

-Martin Luther King, Jr.

I'm trying to understand something. In my life, there has been a confluence of messages lately, and I want to know what they mean. I am praying for clarity.

It has something to do with being willing to take a risk, but it's a risk that doesn't sound so risky when I explain it to myself. Our marriage counselor keeps describing it as a risk...remaining in this marriage. Working things through. Trying.

And there is clearly a risk, as I've seen how bad things can get for both of us. My husband has been very sick in his addictions, and I've followed him right to the bottom. But that's not the risk that I keep finding, facing me, everywhere.

The risk is to be willing to be loving to the person I love most in the world.

It should be easy. It should be natural. It used to be, but it isn't anymore, or it wasn't. It's getting easier again, and it's getting easy quickly.

I bother myself when I can't be clear. I am chasing my tail with this stuff.

For weeks and weeks, my husband and I could not get along. We couldn't stop criticizing each other long enough to remember that we love each other very much. We became enemies, guarded and fearful and defensive, and we really were trapped in our mess. It's better now, suddenly, without much reason. I changed some things, and he changed some things. For a while, I thought it didn't matter that I'd changed some things, but I realize now that it just took him a little while to notice. It took me a while to notice his changes, too.

One of the lessons I keep learning is that it's not possible always to understand. I always want to understand. I want to know what's happening because I believe so much in the power of my mind. If I can figure stuff out, I can fix it. I can change the variables and rearrange the outcome.

But none of my machinations work. They never have. They take my energy, and that's all.

What has worked to make me happier, to make my relationship with my husband richer, and to make everything more peaceful in my life is loving kindness. When I come home, I talk to my husband. I smile at him. I give him a kiss and talk to him about my day. He tells me about his. I don't offer any opinions or suggestions about what he's done or what he should be doing. Things are the way they are. It's not my way. I love my husband anyway, and today, I want to be with him.

So maybe there's not a risk. Maybe I've finally found a fool-proof plan. Letting go and letting myself love the man I love...

It Is This Way.

I think, maybe, for the first time ever, I am teetering on the edge of real acceptance.

I am not happy with my life as it is, but I am not fighting it anymore. It becomes easier to enjoy what is good when I stop fighting.

And fighting does not serve me or anyone else. My husband is a sick man, and he's working on himself to the best of his ability. Nothing I say or do will affect his recovery or lack of recovery. It's his. Mine is mine. I have to keep my hands off of his, offer feedback only when it's requested, and play the role of a loving, supportive wife. I am not his mother or his teacher or his sponsor. I am his wife, and my role is to be a partner...that's it. If I can't be a partner to him, then I can't be anything, and I should leave. I'm not ready to leave, so I only have one other option...and it's not unpleasant. The light I shine in my home gets reflected back at me through him. If I am angry and frustrated, I get anger and frustration back. If I am content and supportive, I get contentment and support back.

This information should not be new, and it isn't new, exactly. Often, I think I've got it, but then something happens, and I get it in a new way. I think re-working the steps is helping me in some subtle ways I didn't expect. I'm wrapping up the first step, and I think I'm having some first step epiphanies.

It is what it is, and that's all it's going to be. I can change the things I can, and that's only me.