I hardly ever know when to talk about it, or how. Sometimes I won’t because there’s this fear I have that if I do, I could somehow speak it into existence. My words could breath it into life… And then what would I do? I’ve never had a plan, I’ve never felt safe in saying “all would be well, in the end.” I see these men and women, now widows. Their children… Now parent-less… And it kills me. It makes me ache so deeply because I thought for a time that that would be me. I thought that for her, my little girl, life would be so much less magical because he wouldn’t be there. He is magical to me, after all. The addiction, the disease, it’s crippling. Not just to him, but to me. I see him now, 3 years sober, and the pride I feel doesn’t fit into words… But then something happens. Like this. His friend, working so hard to feel normal, to feel like this demon doesn’t control him… And then suddenly… He’s gone. He succumbed to the craving one more time and it took him away. I didn’t know him, I wasn’t supposed to because of the whole “anonymity” thing (which doesn’t fair well for someone who is mostly nosey, like myself. No shame.) but the pain I see in my husbands eyes, the fear and despair and anger and sadness… It’s there, so I feel it, too. And all of the memories from our past come flooding back and I’m once again in a state of panic. Once upon a time he was so far gone that I would look up at the evening sky and think “he will never get to see how beautiful this is.” I thought to myself, how can I raise this tiny human on my own? And I was so angry with him for leaving me. I wouldn’t hear from him for days and and now looking back on it I’m glad that I absent mindedly remembered to breathe because only two things took up any space in my brain, 1. Keep Edyn safe. 2. Don’t let Jon die.
More later. Another time. I’ll never be able to describe the physical effects that talking about this has on me. Guess it’s all just made me go a little nuts.