Another Monday night

He came home on Monday night after his class, looking cracked up. Looking like he did at the beginning of this. Looking fucked up. I confronted him on it immediately. He denied it all. He said he was at his meeting. He said he was not lying anymore and why would he risk it? He didn't want to lose me. I said, I don't care. You're a fucking crackhead. You're an addict. Maybe you relapsed. Just tell the truth.

Still denial.

I sent him to Walgreen's to get a drug test. Yes, I did. He called while he was there, asking which test to buy. The one for only crack? Or the one that covers it all. I wanted the one that covers it all, but it is 30 bucks and we are running too low this month. This week. And I was on the phone with Rae, telling her it all. She said to buy the one that covers it all. But by the time I called him back, he had already bought the crack one. The coke one. The one I had originally said. And he had left. I told him to go back; I told him to return it. I would not feel completely secure in the knowledge of sobriety if he didn't test for everything. He didn't go back.

He took the test. He was clean. It didn't mean what it should have. It didn't mean anything. Rae said it was good because that was the main problem.

It was the same "class" as last week, when he wasn't back until 12:30am. Monday nights. He showed me the signature he had gotten from the teacher that he went, for his PO, but that meant shit, as we all know. What's really going on.

What the fuck is going on. I just want the truth. I can be okay, I can be fine, I can be great BY MYSELF. But I cannot be any of those things without knowing the truth.

I will not live in a marriage of lies. I told him that if that happens, I won't even mess around with the talk. He will leave. He will call his father to come pick his revoked license ass up - fuck that, he can drive himself for all I care.

It is unsettling. But I am fine. I'm better than fine. I will be fine whether or not he is a liar. He does not define me. I do not need him. So bring it on. I'm ready.

Addicted

I don’t know what my problem is. There is something about me. Or something about them. Addicts, that is. I have been realizing it this weekend, incredibly. Everyone close to me in my life, besides my family, is an addict. Literally everyone. There is Rae and there is S, and there is Chris. Those are the three people closest to me right now.

Rae had a horrible childhood. She was in the drug scene as a teenager to the extent of almost unbelievability. And now, she is no longer in that life style, so while she may not be addicted to anything anymore (besides going to the bars every weekend and getting wasted), she was in the drug field.

Then there is S. Drug and alcohol addict. A week in recovery. Who knows how long it will last.

Chris – my husband. Drugs are his poison of choice. Recovering now for almost eight months. His life was much like Rae’s. So involved in the drug scene – I do not understand it.

So what is about me? Or what is it about them? What attracts me to them? Or them to me? I am addicted to addicts. That is my addiction.

Is it my innate need to cure? To comfort? To take care of all helpless things? My love for animals is a passionate part of me; could it be that it is because they, too, need someone to look out for them? Is that why I am the way I am? Is that why Social Work is my profession? Because I need to care for those who can’t care for themselves?

Let me fix you and protect you and show you someone loves you and is there for you. Let me show you that someone will always be there – dependable and reliable and responsible to the point of being flawed. To the point that someone can run over me and leave me crippled.

It’s an interesting viewpoint – one I may have addressed before. But this weekend more than ever did it become clear to me. It was a weekend filled with Rae and S and Chris and all things addicty, conversational and otherwise, and that is what I concluded. That I’m addicted to addicts.

Cheaters

I just don't understand. What is it about men? My recently-became best friend just found out her boyfriend is cheating on her. And to make matters worse, the other woman told her. To make them worse than that, he lied about it upon the initial confrontation.

Yes, he straight up lied. It has taken days upon days of her asking, of him denying, of her ignoring - until he finally admitted it. He hasn't confessed to all of it, not yet, but he is still a dog. It is so sad. She has been there for him through everything - when he had cancer, when he was in the hospital - and this is what he does.

What is up with guys? Drugs, sex, (rock and roll hah) - they can't seem to get enough of it, from everyone. Why can't they just be happy with what they have? Is it really necessary to go out and do more drugs or kiss up on some girl?

Or is our fault, the women? Are just too stupid and blinded and naive to think that our men just simply love us and want to be with us and make us happy, when in reality they are screwing anything that breathes? I realize that sometimes great relationships (JW and G) are formed out of affairs, but I feel horrible for my friend who has been living her life in happiness and trust and now this. She is now in the "I don't care" stage which is possibly one of the worst.

That stage - in all its glory - brings about actions of nonsensicalness. But I think that even when we are in deepest stage of "I-don't-care-ness" we really do. There is still some part of us that cares about what happens or what doesn't happen.

All I can do is sit and listen and comfort and offer my words of advice. When she wants to know what I would do, I honestly have no clue. This is one of the first times I don't act like I know what I do - don't proclaim to know everything. Because how many people would have told me to leave Chris? I know cheating on someone is different, but is it that much different?

Besides, I have recognized this in myself so much lately - who am I to judge? I am not going to judge her for what she picks because I don't know what the right way is. If he makes her happy, then good. If he is her "one", then I am not going to fault her. In fact, I don't even have that in my normally judgmental head.

What I am thinking is that I love this girl. And I have absolutely no fricken clue what I would do. After this past year, I am different. I stayed with my addict. No one has the right to judge that. After this past year, I see more clearly that no one will ever fully know why one person stays with another. If he makes her happy, then I am glad she would stay with him.

Either way, she hasn't made a decision yet but she is torn up.

This post is so clearly just a bunch of ramblations but oh well.

NA

Chris tried out a new NA meeting on Tuesday this week. Since he is now ordered to attend two a week, he tried a different one that he has never been too. He called frantic, late, looking for the church name. He only arrived two minutes late, and called to tell me that he was not going in - he was late.


I said that was stupid, drove 1/2 an hour, and get in there. He called ten minutes later and told me it sucked. He said no one came and greeted him, no one was friendly, and it was stupid. He left.

I had mixed feelings about this. He only gave it ten minutes! I said that to him, but apparently his other group was extremely friendly and greeted and included him right away.

I do not want him to be uncomfortable or feel like an outsider, but sometimes you have to tough things out at first and it will get better. Life is not always some warm cushy place. And since he has to go to two a week from now on, he is going to have to be a little more persistent in sticking with a place.

He attended another one last night. He stayed through this whole one. We only talked about it for a little but he seemed to enjoy this one more.

It's hard to have him leave two times a week now. It's hard to trust that's where he is. I'm used to him leaving or being gone so often that all trust has vanished.

Memories

I was reminded this morning of something Chris told me awhile ago. It hurts every time I think about it because of the lengths of secrecy he would go to.

He told me when we would ride together in his car, he would take out his crack pipes and leave them in the grass next to the car so that they wouldn't be in there with me. I am not sure if this was so I wouldn't be incriminated if something would happen, or so I simply would not find it. I am sure it was the latter.


He went so far with this routine, that when the ground was layered with snow, he would take out his pipes and shove them into some snow so he knew where they were but no passersby would see them. Mainly me.

I often ask him about things. Such as "Was this in our house?! Was this in my car?" I remember one night; he didn't have his car. We had just went out for dinner and he had asked me three times already if he could go to the city to get money from a friend who owed him some.

A black friend. A black friend who lived in the ghetto. Who owed him money. For some unknown reason. If this wasn't a fricken clue, I have no idea what was.

I said no. Over and over. I said "You are not taking my car to go there. $50? Not that important. Not in the night, not with my car, and not when you don't come back when you are supposed to. You don't even answer his phone." He asked again. I said, "What is the big deal about this f-ing $50??" He said that it was fine. It didn't matter; he would just go when he got his car.

Turns out he wanted to go smoke. He wanted to do crack in my car with his drug dealing friend in the city.

It is painful, and awakening to see how many more moments in our short marriage are like this. Lies from the pit of his soul - it feels like everything out of his mouth was a lie.

I could name off a bunch more right now, but emotional time is done.

Probation Beginnings

Probation has started. Maybe not officially, but it has started. He brought home the list of rules of things we can, or more specifically, can't do.

I feel like I am on some sort of punishment. "Sorry, April. The beginnings of relaxation you were feeling? Yeah, don't get too excited. You will be paying your PO for the next 18 months of your life. How much? The amount is unknown. And the supposed 'free' vacation you were taking to Florida in August - you can stop looking forward to it. All the fun things you were planning because he has a job will have to be some other time.

"Sorry, April. Because you married a crack addict, you might have to drive him to work every day due to having his license taken away. Also, because you married a crack addict, if you are having those killer cramps you get where you are incapacitated for hours on end, you cannot send him to the store with the credit card because his PO has to okay that first. And when you are driven to drink because of this inane lunacy, you can't do that either.

"We will check in on you. Your living conditions, what you live with, any alcohol. Have fun with that."

18 months without a fricken drink in my own home? That's a little excessive, don't you think? His problem wasn't alcohol. But hey. That's what I pay. That's the dues I take, grudgingly, to be with the man I love.

Bring me the drinks!

This weekend was a new and exciting one. At my work, for the most part, we are all like friends (for the most part) and a couple of us went out on Saturday night. S was invited to a random girl's birthday party and he wanted some moral support, so he invited me, Amber, and A. It was interesting. Chris was also invited, but he said he would rather not attend.

This actually made me happy. I like to go out with people that are not him. People that are fun, and people that have the power to make me laugh and I have no sort of hold or doubt over them.

S has been talking about sushi for quite some time, and this has no appeal to me, but we all headed over to this Japanese restaurant that I have never heard of. We laughed and ate until our sides split open. So much for my diet on this night. Also, alcohol is not a help in diets, but I just couldn't help myself. Bring me the drinks, please.

The random girl harassed and called many times, but S did not want to go. Mainly for that reason. So we went to two bars, both dead due to a festival going on by the lake front. We played darts, and pool, and danced and laughed and had a jolly good time.

Crazy though, that by the end of the night, I couldn't wait to get home to Chris. Not to snuggle, nothing like that, but just to be home with the man I love after a night with friends. It was a great, beautiful night. And since I came home at midnight, or shortly after, I desperately wanted to walk around the neighborhood. But as Amber pulled around my street and into my driveway, I saw that all the lights were off in our little triangled windows.

I kissed him gently when I went in, asking to go on a walk, but he said he'd been in bed for an hour already. This was surprising for a couple reasons. Firstly, I thought for sure he would wait for me to go to bed. Secondly, I know he wanted sex. I had promised him before I left that when I got home I would lay it on him.

Maybe I lucked out?

I really had no energy. I washed my face, and did all the things I do, before quietly making it back to the bedroom. When I pulled the covers down, sitting on my pillow was a condom and sex toy "tingling" gel that it is really fantastic. As I am writing now, I can't help but laugh.

Shorten the story, he did not get it. At least, not that night. But we had a lovely Sunday morning.

Court

Court was today. His lawyer has been pushing this off for months now. Months. He took forever to call. He got 18 months of probation, has to attend NA two times a week, and continue maintaining a clean lifestyle.

I just don't quite understand this. I thought the entire goal of this was to have a reduced sentence. The felonies were dropped; he was only up for two misdemeanors. And since his lawyer kept pushing it back, I, however naively, thought his sentence would not be so long. I am not retarded. 18 months of probation is great, considering.

But come on. I thought only a year, at the most. And all I really cared about, honestly, is if our vacation to Florida would be jeopardized. It's in August. We'll see.

I am not complaining. I am not. I am happy that it is not jail. I am just confused as to what the point was of waiting so long, if this all could have been started in March.

It's so frustrating to have him call and tell me this, at work, and not answer my questions in a nice, understanding way. I want information - I crave information, I always have. And he is the kind who just gets by with the important things. Don't have a fricken attitude about things that I want and need to know.

We had one of our huge blow-outs last night. The screaming kind, the kind where I threaten to leave. What was it over? I have no clue anymore. Probably something dumb. From what I can recall, there was words and actions thrown around over household chores.

I wish he would comprehend the fact that I am working my ass off and the least thing he could do, the least, is to have the house clean when I get home from work. Do the dishes. Vacuum. Mow the lawn without whining. Make the bed. Do the laundry. Just do something.

He has a job now. I understand that. We both need to chip in. He doesn't need to tell me that he happened to work for the first 7 months of our marriage and he didn't whine when I didn't. It's a lie. I worked. Part-time, but I worked. And his work? That means nothing to me anymore.

I'm not grateful for it. I'm not okay. He may have worked but I don't know how long. He went out to smoke crack. He may have gotten foolish amounts of money, but I wouldn't know. He liked to just "get by" so he could go out. So I am not appreciative. And it's not a legitimate argument because I never saw a penny. I saw us scraping by, begging help from people.

So his job? Means nothing.

Instigator

It’s strange really, how much the lifestyle of drugs surrounds you. Our downstairs neighbors in our building (3 family farmhouse) apparently are a family of pot-smokers. All of them. There are quite many who live there and for our little old-fashioned suburb this is quite interesting news to hear. In all honestly, I am sure there are others like this out there.

The father, the son, the friends – they all smoke pot. Chris seems to be coming friends with one of the sons, Tyler, who said he used to be completely messed up with prescription painkillers, etc. He said now he steers clear from all that. Interesting. I wonder what he does when his family smokes up. I wonder if he is lying.

Then there is my brother and his friends. His friend, I should say, the instigator. I used to babysit this friend, back when I was twelve and thirteen. I had great fun messing with these children. They were raised similar to me. Four of them, brothers. In a Christian home, stricter than anything, always feeling tied down.

But these brothers had it rough. They were rarely allowed to watch TV and when they did, it was carefully monitored. No PG, certainly no PG-13. And the one cable channel they were allowed to watch was the Discovery Channel.

I babysat these kids and we would spend hours playing board games. When lunch was served, I would entertain them with childish jokes and stories, hoping to corrupt their little minds with things such as "boogers" and "bloody fingers." They laughed until their little bellies jiggled.

But now the oldest brother has turned into something unfortunate. He uses prescription drugs mostly, for his own highs. And over the weekend, he passed it on to my brother, and their mutual friend. It was nothing major, nothing big, but it was still quite shocking to me.

No matter where I turn, someone in my life will have used some kind of drug to the point of trouble. Tragic, in my opinion, that it is the way life is. That innocence can be so quickly lost.

There is always an instigator though, isn't there? Someone who starts it and transfers it to someone else. It doesn't matter the age. There is always someone. Peer pressure. It's tough, even for the strongest person.

I wonder - can someone be an instigator for a good thing?

I want it and I want it now.

The first day went easier than planned. I assumed it would be miserable, smaller portions, barely eating at all. It was fine, in actuality, and that was probably because I was so excited about the end result. But the thing about me is that I am so incredibly impatient. If I want something, I will have it right then. I do not think of the consequences or reactions or anything before I do it.

If I want a tattoo, I will go do it. I will not sit and think about it for weeks, wondering if I should. I will not contemplate what I want or where I want it. For the most part, if I know what I want on my body for the rest of my life, I will go do it. And so far, that plan has worked well for me. I do not regret any of the tattoos I have, or any of the piercings.

But weight is different. I do not get to just lose weight the second I want to. I woke up this morning weighing the same as yesterday morning, which I suppose is all fine and well, but I was hoping to be at least one pound lighter. I am aware that one pound a day is probably not the most healthy way to go about losing weight, but like I said, I am incredibly impatient.

So this morning, as I headed to work and sat in my office staring at my screen, the hunger pains took over my body. Yesterday it was so much easier to fight them, but today I just couldn't do it. I had some custard in the freezer in the work kitchen, so I made my way to it, hastily I might add, and could hardly wait for it to be come soft enough to shove that plastic spoon in. In fact, I waited for about two minutes before taking a bite out of the delicious hard cream.

I only had a couple bites, and even now I do not feel guilty. If anything, I just feel mad that I did not lose one more pound. If anything, I hate how I don't fit into those skirts. I hate how skinny I used to be, and now I am still pounds away from that. It sucks. Patience is not something I possess.

I already thought about dinner tonight and how after I ate the minimum portion so as not to fill myself, Chris and I go walk around the neighborhood again. But I remembered that today is Wednesday, however strange that seems, and NA is today. Now that I am typing it, I am sure he will call me shortly, on his break from work (work!) to inquire about giving his friend a ride.

I gave myself to the end of June, at most, to reach my goal of weight loss. My extreme goal was by the end of next week, and I will still aim for that. But if that fails, I will certainly be okay with the end of June. I think. I hope. If I can manage to wait that long. I don't really have much of a choice. I guess I could simply starve myself. Or just eat and eat and eat and forget about this stupid diet thing. Absolute ludicrous. Never in a million years did I think I would be on a diet.

Then again, never in a million years did I think I would be married a crack addict.

A little more

He read the blog last night...the blog I happened to steal from The Junkys Wife's website. The blog that was from a man's point of view - the one staying that she is always yelling. Always mad. Never wanting to kiss, to hug, to make love. He read it.

I cried the first time I read it. And when I read it parts of it over last night, I cried again. His comments were what I could expect. That he was trying. That he knows I cannot just let go of it. He tried to joke saying that I need counseling, as one part in the blog states. I did not, could not, laugh. What was funny about that? No doubt I need counseling for the hell he put me through. But it is doubtful he is referring to that. I kind of took it as him saying he thinks I need counseling in general. Not a time to joke, Chris. Really.

His reaction to the blog was less than what I hoped for. But I know him, or at least I think I do, and I know his reactions and that was one I definitely saw coming.

Good news to report today though - he finally got a job. I realize since I have only started to record these happenings, you do not realize how long it has been. Months. Months that felt like years. I am enthusiastic about this, don't get me wrong. However, as I was thinking about it this morning, I realized that I am the main reason he received this job.

A co-worker of mine knows someone who knows someone at a temp agency. She told me he could definitely get Chris a job if he simply went. I told him to go. He did. He got a job. Of course, it was up to him to go, and it was up to him to present himself in a professional manner, but in reality, he did nothing but that. He didn't look for it. I am giving him a handout. In this case and in many cases, it is all through who you know. But I wish he could have done this one thing alone.

Don't get me wrong - I am happy he has a job. The money will be greatly appreciated. He is swimming in debt. I disassociate myself with this because "it isn't me." I get the lecture repeatedly about we are married, it IS me. When we want a house, or a new car, or anything that involves a credit check, it will not look good. It is just another reminder of how he screwed me over.

But at least he will start paying his bills off, right? Or I will. Access to money through me from him has become almost an impossible task - just another way for me to control his every move. Perhaps that's wrong. Perhaps that pushes him away. But he has been clean almost 90 days now, so he says. And I have had control of the money, the cards, the finances, everything - for just as long. Just another burden to add to my already aching shoulders.

I say that I would love to relinquish my control. I say that I would love to give up the control of everything. But would I? At least if something goes wrong I have no one to blame but myself. And in reality, I would hate it, I think. Trusting someone?! Practically unheard of. Especially to take care of ME? To take care of our finances? What a joke.

For now, I will be content with the fact that a job has come his way.

And I will be content that I can laugh a little more. I can giggle at his strange way of joking, the absurd things he does to make me laugh. I can relax a little more.

Bottled Up

I feel a little better today. Not that I felt too bad yesterday, but the looming implications of a license returned irked me to no end.

Today is a new day though and I will face it head on. That is how it is. I am lucky enough to have a job that I enjoy coming to work for. I am lucky that my boss has been through a situation very similar to mine and is there whenever I break down.

She sees things I don't. For example, last week, as I was crying in her office about how he had ruined everything, she said that we were both going through similar things. Hardships-wise. Her husband hated his job and wanted to quit and she felt like she had to support him. She said she had no problem doing that because she loved him and wanted to stay with him. But she said that she did not see that from me. She said I need to decide if I want to stay with him.

The thing is - I love this man. I want to stay with him. I want to work things out. But as I believe I have stated before, I cannot let go of my bitterness and anger towards him.

I had this friend. She was my best friend in the entire world. But not for the reasons that most best friends are so. She made my spirits soar - we had more fun than I have ever had in my life. When I got married though, our communication stopped. She called for my birthday - sometimes I would hear from her. But a couple months ago we talked and she asked how I was. It was shortly after the news that I was married to a crack addict came out.

I told her I was okay. That I had been tempted to call her a week or so before but thought better of it. She asked why, but all I told her was that everything was okay now.

How could I tell this girl, this girl that used to be the number one person in my life, that she had been right all along? That when she said he wasn't good enough for me she was right? How could I give her the satisfaction? And when in reality, as she would gloat to herself and pity would wash over her, all I would think was that she had no fucking clue how it was. She lived her life of parties and flirtations and simple nothings and this would be much too big.

I'm not saying she couldn't understand. She had been through hardships that I have never even dreamed of. But I don't think that anything can really compare to being yoked to someone for the rest of your life - and that someone has lied to and betrayed you beyond any recognizable point. I don't think that she would be able to understand how it would be to know that you just signed your life to someone who was addicted to crack cocaine. Her hard decisions in life were what to wear that night to a bar.

That may sound so bitchy. But it is the truth. And maybe that is all 23-year-olds should have to think about. The sad truth is though that that is what I do think about. I think about how my life has changed. How I need to decide if I want to be married to a liar.

It was nearly impossible those nights; the nights where I spent crying alone, before and after I found out the truth. It was so impossible I wanted to call her up and run to her house - a place where I could be myself and relax and be comfortable and forget about my problems. But I didn't. I stayed strong, whether that was good or bad, because I did not want to be the weak one. My own problem of pride I know.

I had no one. I had no one to turn to. And even while I write this, I cringe knowing that it is a lie. I had someone. I always did. My family is nothing but supportive. They would have been there if I just asked. But I am a strong-willed, overly prideful human being. I don't want to ask for help. I want to come across as independent, needing nothing. I am sure that is my main dilemma. I didn't turn to them until after he was arrested.

I kept it all bottled up. The late nights, the fights, the missing money, the debt we were falling into. Debt is harder to get out of then I ever thought possible.

I am working my butt off now - paying off the bills, paying for everything - while he "looks" for a job. I have more money in my account now than I ever did before, but it dwindles out as I pay the bills.

Sorry for that interspersion of debt. The fact is, because I kept it all in, I am more unhealthy than ever before.

I get mad at him for the stupidest little things. Such if life for now though. I need an emotional break.

Me

My name is April. That is my real name. I will not use a fake name for myself. But in the future, other names will be changed.

My name is April and I am married to a crack addict. I am 23-years-old. In the eyes of many, I am a baby. But I have had to face things that many people have never and will never face in their lives. I am a grown-up 23 yr. old. I have been married almost 9 months.

It is the first year of my first marriage and I am drowning in pain, in anger, and in utter confusion. I married a stranger. I married a man I had no knowledge about.

Every day is a struggle and I am someone I do not wish to be. I am consumed with anger and have no problem showing it to him at all times. As far as I am concerned, he ruined what could have been the start of a beautiful marriage. As far as I am concerned, he ruined what trust we had.

I knew that something was going on. But I am one of those women, one of those people, who hates change. Who would rather live a horrible existence than face any kind of new or unfamiliar thing. I would spend nights alone. I would wake up at 2 in the morning to him not being there. I would call and leave frantic, scared, turning to threatening messages. But it wouldn't matter. Nothing would happen. I would hear nothing back.

I was a newlywed in my own sad, scared web of lies.

He had lie after lie after lie. Saying he had to work late - saying his boss made him stay. I am not stupid. I didn't believe him. But pressing the issue was not getting me anywhere.

He would come home late and I would slap him, I would hit him as hard as I could as I was sobbing. He always apologized. Always said he was sorry, there was nothing he could do. He broke my heart over and over.

The truth only came out when he was arrested.

I am hoping this blog will help me release some of myself. I am hoping others will read this and help, share their own experiences, or get hope from mine.

I am not who I want to be. I am not the person I thought I would. I am not where I wanted to be. I am merely a supporter. I am the bread-winner. I am the provider. I am broken and I do not know how to heal.