Simply Late

Wow, it has been almost two weeks. I have been busy with work and family activities, husband and friend stuff.

Things are decent. I feel like anything I report is going to be too boring and lame to mention. I do have things that are going on to me, things that I feel are changing me, but that will be posted at a later date when I can finish writing it.

I am starting to distance myself from this blog, and it bothers me somewhat. I feel sometimes that things are getting better, and I don't need to blog or write anymore about my husband's addiction, but then something grand will happen and I will be sent right back into that wave of fury.

I was talking with Rae on Sunday, and something hit me. Every time he is late, every time he doesn't answer the phone, every time he calls back an hour later, will I constantly question him? Will I constantly wonder where he is, what he's doing, who he's with? Will doubts always fill my mind, for the rest of my life?

I don't want that! I don't want to always resort to the worst possible thing in my mind just because of things that happened in the past. I know I will for awhile, but I don't want to for the rest of time.

Why can't I just think that he's late? Or his phone is on vibrate? Why do I always have to jump to the worst thing? I hate that dreadful feeling I get, the one that wells up in the pit of your stomach. I hate it.

I don't always want to feel like that. I don't always want to think he went back to crack. Will I ever be able to believe him or trust him again? Or will I always turn into a monster when he is late. I don't want to always think he was arrested or is high or is doing something terrible.

Why can't I just think he is simply late. I don't want to feel nervous all the time. I want it to stop.

It Never Ends

Thanks to everyone who wrote to me on my last post. It meant so much.

This week has been better. For those who asked, nothing happened this last Monday. At least, nothing I know of. He was home "on time" and was looking and acting normal. It was quite weird, this Monday. Nothing like the past two.

I have been stressed beyond normal this week. Remember the car things I would write? That my car was going down hill fast? This last week it took a turn for the worst. It can't get up hills, even small hills, at more than 15mph. It really worried me because winter is coming.

My dad let me take his car - they have an extra car - and I have been feeling lucky and spoiled and safe, driving around in this luxury car, full of everything I could ever want. But last week I had to switch back for a day, and though I felt at home and less in need of responsibility in my own car, a huge dose of reality hit me. I would never make it through the winter. I probably wouldn't even make it through the next few weeks.

I started looking hardcore for a car, all the while knowing that the chances of getting one without anyone's help was slim. I can make the car payments. I can do it all. I just have bad credit. And why? And that's another dose of reality that hit me this week.

I was turned down at one after another credit loaning companies, though I would have a car as collateral. I felt so hopeless. Though my parents would help me, my dad couldn't resist the temptation for a lecture. And I just sat there, nodding, though the anger rose inside me quickly. "It's not my fault, Dad!"

"I would have asked for help."

"No, you wouldn't have. You can't say that."

"I would have asked my parents for help."

Silence. Staring. Fine. You would've asked. In your mind you would've. But when you are in the situation, you don't know. When you are newly married, struggling in your mind to wonder if you've made the right decision as it is, you don't want to ask for help because your husband is wasting away your money at only God knows what.

Today, as we stood in the lobby of a bank, waiting for someone to call me in, me and my co-signer, he leaned over and said "I know it's not your fault. You can be happy."

My eyes filled with tears. I had to quickly blink them away - I turned to the window.

I got a new car. But the depth of what Chris has done still shocks me and amazes me every day with it's hidden surprises and fun. Credit card debt, not getting a loan, still struggling to catch up on everything we are behind in. All the credit cards, student loans. And because of our hectic and frantic catch-up game, and the fact that we still have to survive, I haven't concentrated on paying on time. We have been late, we have been on time, we have paid too little, we have paid too much. And now here we are. Struggling for a fricken' car loan.

But I got a car. And I can be happy. My daddy, my protector, the man I have looked up to for my life span - he says I can.

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.

No change

Wow. Eternity, I know. I have been so unmotivated and so busy with work, I just come home and do nothing. Chris and I had a monster of an argument on Monday night. He went to his NA meeting and didn't come home until after midnight. Midnight!! You bloggers are only the second people I am telling about this. Of course, I called my best friend and she walked me through things. What the fuck was he doing?

It was horrible. I was catapulted back to 9 months ago. Exactly nine months on Monday. I was panicky, I was scared, I was terrified, I was fucking pissed the fuck off. No answer, no reply, nothing from him.

I layed in bed and wondered how the hell I dealt with this on an almost daily basis. How did I get in bed and sleep? How did I not stay up freaking out all night till his fucking ass got home? How did I do any of that for months at a time? I was in a different mindset then, I must say. I was in survival mode.

His excuse? Some guy came in who had relapsed and Chris took it upon himself to stay and deal with him. Now, I don't fucking believe his bullshit. I don't believe it. But I know he wasn't doing drugs. I know what he was like before and that wasn't it, that Monday night. And he had been so excited that it was his 9-month anniversary. But I have no clue what he was doing.

Either way, whether or not he was telling the truth, answer your fucking phone. Pick it up and say you're alive. Pick up the fucking phone and say that yes, you are not arrested. Pick it up and text back. That was the worst part.

I know it was only one time. But he has not changed. I could justify his behavior in my head when he was on crack. It was the drugs. It was the drugs. But when he is clean and sober and "learned his lesson," he still goes out and does the same fucking thing. He has not made one single ounce of progress. That is what hurts the worst. The fact that I thought he was different. I thought he had changed. But he really hasn't. When it is broken down, I am still not the first priority. I am still not the number one and only one.

I can't even explain it adequately but I hope you all understand. I hope you understand how disappointing it was to realize that he is the same person, it just takes a different thing to make him behave that way. It didn't matter that it was the crack. It didn't matter that it was a guy who relapsed. As long as he feels that their is something else that warrants more attention or need, he will choose that over his own fucking wife. He will choose that over me.

My mind has froze.

Yucky

I am very annoyed with myself today. Again, about weight. I have only lost five pounds at the most the entire time I have been trying to lose weight. I am starting to wonder if I am just destined to stay the same I am now. If my body just won't lose anymore.

There are still a couple things I am dying to fit into to wear before summer is out and that does not look possible. Just ten more pounds - that's all I want. It really shouldn't be that hard, should it? Only ten more!

I am crabby and annoyed and just fed up. I love to eat! I love to eat when I want and what I want and I have always been able to do so, and now the fact that I can't is lurking behind everything I do. Every thing. It bothers me so much. I just want to lose those final ten.

I don't even know how I lost the first five. I just ate a little teeny bit less, and started walking every day and swam a couple days a week. I have continued this regiment and have not gone up or down. So I am wondering if that is just how I am gonna be. If this is the weight I am stuck at now.

I kind of want to just eat one meal a day for a couple days until I am down but I know that I'll shoot right back up after that when I go back to eating my normal way. Sometimes I am so torn about myself because there are days when I just simply don't care.

I think "I'm not fat!! I'm not even close to fat! So big deal that I can't fit into the same cute pants that I love!" That does happen sometimes. I am happy with myself. I know I'm skinny. I know my husband still wants to bang my brains out. And I think that why does it matter? I'll eat what I want, in proportion, but I will eat what I want and be okay.

But I am not satisfied with myself which just brings everything down. It's really really frustrating. I just want to fit into my old clothes. And I don't want to throw them out and buy new clothes that make me feel good because what if one day I can fit into them!?

I don't know what to do. Just ten pounds. That's all I want. Maybe I should just eat fruit and vegetables for the next week so that by the time I go on vacation I will be down to my normal weight that I have been at all my life.

I want to cry just thinking about it! I just recently looked at a picture of these baggy pants I was wearing and my stomach was showing a little and I was so cute. And now, when I try those pants on, they are so tight. Not even a little baggy.

That was my skinniest point, I'd say. And I want to get back there.