Breaking the rules

We went out with friend last night. We went to a comedy club in the city. Oh, how I love the city. I call it the city because it is way more massive than the suburb I live in. I love the people going about their business, so many people, so many things to watch! I love everything about it. I love the energy and I love how it is never dead.

So Chris broke all the rules of probation last night. Okay, not quite all of them. But we did go to two bars, where he hesitantly drank 4? bottles of beer. Not much, but still. He then proceeded to smoke quite a few cigarettes, something he proclaims that he does not do "normally." We then all squeezed into a Chevy Cavalier, 5 of us that is, and proceeded to drive further into the city, everyone but me having no license. And I don't mean, "Whoops! They forgot it!" I mean, they literally do not HAVE a license. Chris technically does, but any contact with police, especially after those beers, would be trouble.

So how many rules were broken? I count three, and my own personal rule #4. I hate smoking. Don't smoke. And he did.

So I really don't know how I feel about these rule breakings. I made him come with me to the bar. And I'm sure I totally made him drink by telling him it was okay; his probation officer meeting isn't for two weeks. And I don't see the problem, really. It's not like we were shooting heroin or smoking crack. It was a couple beers, and I don't care. But should I be enforcing, enabling, agreeing, with this behavior? Should I say it's okay to drink when in reality he should not be drinking for the next 18 months?

I'm sure this all comes back to my own personal vendetta against the PO. "She doesn't own me. She can't run my life. I'll go to a fricken bar if I want to go to one!" So I do. And I make Chris go with. And I make him drink. And I think he should be able to. I mean, how fun is it to leave your husband at home when you're going out?

So should I be promoting and encouraging this lying behavior? Am I feeding the flames? Or should I enforce the strict rules of the PO?

Am I reading into this, digging too deep, making more out of it than it is?

Secrets

I guess the popular topic of the past few days for me has been friends.

One of my best friends, someone I have discussed before -Amber - , has decided to share some of my life to our mutual friends. I was pretty upset about this last night, but I have since calmed down a little.

We went to high school together and hang out with a group of guys. We are all friends, but I only see the guys once every two months or so, if that. She told me last night that she told them about Chris. I am not sure how much detail she went into but they now know that he was "in trouble with the law" regarding "drugs." I know this is vague, but it did upset me.

Amber said it's a good thing for people to know. But isn't that up to my discretion? I have always known that she is a very poor secret keeper, but I trusted her with one of the biggest and most important events thus far in my life. It hurt me because I would like to be the one to choose who knows about this.

I realize they are my friends as well, but it was hard enough telling her, telling anyone! for that matter, and it should be up to me who knows about this. It is embarrassing to me. I know it is not my fault, but it is embarrassing nonetheless.

I am trying to protect Chris partly, but mostly, I am trying to establish that I told her so many times not to tell anyone about my husband being a crack addict. I told her to keep it between us. I told her it was private.

It's so hard to know who to trust in life, and perhaps that is my issue all along. That is why I don't tell people stuff, I know that. But I chose to tell her. However stupid that may be. And I trusted her to keep it between us.

Apparently, no one these days views privacy, friendships, and respect the way I do.

Civilized Women

I guess I should just prepare myself for a fight pretty much once a week. I don't mean little disagreements, I mean huge, blow-up, out-and-out brawls. Like tonight.

It always starts with something so stupid. He didn't pick up some stuff in our apartment. I don't see why not. We just moved here. There is tons to do. And he was home 3 hours before me but he always has some stupid excuse.

I am too tired to expand, too exhausted, but it escalated (like normal) into a shouting and pushing match. Eventually, I told him to leave. And he did.

I just don't understand. How hard is it to just help me out? Just start putting things away. Just go downstairs to storage and put some fucking boxes away.

I have a found a new friend though. One I have mentioned a couple times. She works with me and has become my best friend. She goes though quite the same things as me and we are able to talk and vent at work and on the phone. We talk often. So tonight, I went over to her house.

We sat on her back patio and drank wine, like two civilized adult women, without a care in the world. Like two civilized adult women talking about our boring mundane lives. Funny, our conversations revolving around our addict men, our lovers who can't get their act together. Funny how our "civilized" talks are about so much more than what we should ever have to deal with.

I can't even be more grateful for what I have found in her. She has been my confidant, my friend, someone I can turn to with everything. It is so hard and so rare to find someone that you can talk to about your life without fear of being judged. I am going to cherish it and not take it for granted. Friends are hard to find. Good friends. I will not be quick to let her go. I feel fortunate to have someone like her around.

Have a good 4th, bloggers.

Co-dependence

Yes, I know. Another post! Two in one day!!

When I go to bed at night, I am like many other people. I cannot turn off my brain. Things I have to do run through, my mind thinks up the strangest ideas, and I seem to focus on interesting viewpoints of my life. And last night, there was no exception.

I was thinking about the blog situation as I layed in bed last night. I was thinking about the sick little game I play. The game is simple. To me, at least. I pride myself in being strong. In being brave, in being independent, in being able to handle anything.

I thought last night about myself, how strange I am. I crave Chris' attention, I crave his acceptance. I want him to be okay, to like, to love, everything I do at all times. If I want to work out, if I want to get back down to a size 2 like I was before he kept me up all night being gone, if I want to have a blog, if I want to make dinner, if I want to shower - I want him to adore everything I do. And at the same time, if he is annoyed or thinks I am stupid or doesn't agree with what I want, I say I don't care. I act like I don't care.

In reality, (come on, we all know reality!!), I am screaming out for his approval. Approval. Of me.

Let's get the facts straight. He is a druggie. A junkie. A crack addict. A man who is screwed me over so many times in the past, yet I want his fricken' approval. I want him to validate me.

Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I want everyone's approval which is a real freakin' let down. I am not supposed to be this way. This is a real eye-opener. I am actually admitting this out loud.

People's blogs I read, they all write about co-dependence. And all the while I was thinking, well lucky for me, I'm not that! So I did a little lesson today. I looked up co-dependence.

The facts, the characteristics, shocked me. I stopped reading half way down the list. Here they are:

• Positive feelings about themselves stem from being liked and accepted by others.
  
• Mental attention is focused on solving the problems of others or relieving their pain, and when these goals are accomplished, their self-esteem rises.
  
• Co-dependents tend to personalize all that happens around them, seeing everything as being directly related to them.
  
• Unless they are externally validated, they have difficulty trusting their own perceptions.
  
• Significant others' clothing, personal appearance and behavior are dictated by the co-dependent, as he or she feels that the significant other is a reflection of him or her.
  
• Co-dependents have unrealistic expectations of themselves, are unable to accept their own limitations, and use control and manipulation to avoid facing reality.
  
• They view themselves as failures when they cannot control everything or meet everyone's expectations.
  
• They fear rejection and abandonment, so they feel they must be involved and needed in every aspect of the lives of others. Not to be involved and needed equals abandonment.
  
• Co-dependents are not aware of how they feel; they are aware of how others feel. Co-dependents are not aware of what they want; they ask what others want. If they are not aware, they assume.
  
• Social circles diminish as they become more involved in their disease.
  
  

Just looking at this makes me want to scream. I could give an example for every single bullet point. I am co-dependent! I am sure tomorrow I will look at this and justify it. Hell, it could be later today! Either way, I hate admitting this.

Probably why I am a social worker. So I relieve people's pain.

But the flip side is, perhaps that's why I can't lose weight. Perhaps I am doomed to never be a size 2 again. Because I have an unrealistic expectation of myself. And because I am unable to accept my own limitations. I should be okay. I should swallow my sadness and throw out my cute skirts and shorts and be proud of my slightly larger body. Right?

Easier said than done.

Sharing

It's interesting. My previous post, "Back Story", came up quite a bit for me last night and this morning already, and it's only 8:30am!

Chris and I sat down last night, before bed, and hooked up the Ethernet cable at our new place. I wanted to come to my blog, so the computer slowly, (oh, so slowly!) took me there. Chris looked over at saw.

"Married to an Addict," he said. So matter-of-factly. I felt a mix of emotion. The kind where I so desperately wanted to show him, which brought up a whole 'nother bag of issues to deal with later, and the kind where I wanted to keep it to myself.

He read some of the title entries on the "posts" page. I read him The Junkys Wife Nicole Richie entry. I felt it fit perfectly for him - being a crazy crackhead and all.

He said I should read one I wrote, so I read one - a safe one of course.

It was the after feeling I completely hated. I wished so much that I hadn't read it to him. I wished that it was just mine. That is another issue with me. I hate sharing. That probably explains why I am so secretive, but I hate sharing anything in my life that I view as mine.

I don't mean crackers or a candy bar or money. I mean, if I view something as valuable to me, close to my heart, something personal and wonderful and only something I can understand, I do not want to share it. I feel like a little piece of me dies. Like a little piece of me is taken away when I share something, when I give up something.

I instantly regretted it. This something was mine. It was mine to share my life, to vent about the very man I was reading a post to. He would never understand its meaning to me. Even I don't fully understand its meaning to me!

Chris had known that I had a blog. He knew it was about him, our life, his addiction. And he didn't seem mad. He wasn't mad.

Maybe my problem with sharing comes from the fact that if I share, I let someone in. And if I let someone in, I have to deal with possibility of being hurt.

Too early in the morning for this.

Back Story

There are some parts of my life that I keep to myself. That is the strange thing about me, I think. Perhaps lots of people are like this?

I am so outgoing. I am friendly, I am loud - not to the point of obnoxiousness, though I'm sure some would beg to differ - but I am loud. I am a generous, kind, nice person. But I am also extremely withdrawn. It is a weird trait to have, I think. I can be friends with you for years upon years, and yet you will know absolutely nothing significant about me.

It can take years to get to know me. I keep things so bottled up. I am sure other people are like this, but it is sad when I think about it. How shut down I really am. People I talk to and laugh with really do not know me.

One friend I had, she said to me more than once, "Why don't you let me in? Why don't you talk to me, or tell me anything?" I was closer to this friend, closer to her than anyone I have ever been in a relationship with. And that really struck me. I thought I was being open with her. At the time, I was thinking that I told her everything. And I did tell her so much. But some things I just didn't tell anyone. No one could be trusted.

I think she didn't realize how much of me she knew. But I pick and choose. I pick what people need to know. I pick what people need to understand and learn about me. I feel that this is an advantage for me. In reality, this is probably a hinderance.

If people knew the back story of me, they would surely understand why I am the way I am. They would see what shaped me.

Even here, on this blog, in the world of anonymous, I keep things private. I am either ashamed, embarrassed, or anything else about the things in my life.

This little confessional started by reading The Junkys Wife post about Seroquel. It reminded me of the problems I had weening off of a prescription drug I took. I wanted to write about it. Then I thought, "Then I'll have to share why I took it. Which will lead to the background of that."

Perhaps the point of this is that I realize more about myself the more I write. Don't get me wrong - I know I am the hardest person to get to know. But I learn a little more when I write. It's like little revelations each day.

A Quickie

No, not sex, silly!! We are finally in our new apartment - after a long and heavy Saturday. Today, we wasted a hundred bucks at Wal-Mart, a store I hate more than anything ever, and continued to try to unpack through the downpour of boxes.

I am not fully used to the whole new apartment thing. I kind of feel like we are living in a cabin and hotel. We have a balcony that we are grilling out on tonight, but the whole feel of the apartment is nothing like our old one. Our old one was an old Victorian, complete with the slanted ceilings, surrounded by windows. Covered in dust.

But now I have internet access!

I will write more tomorrow! Dinner is served!!