“Your resentment is not serving you.” That’s what my therapist said.
That line, issued yesterday, has been bouncing around in my head like a rubber ball ever since.
Bounce, I know I should go.
Bounce, I’ve been before and didn’t like it.
Bounce, but I’ve got to do something different.
I want to hop in a time machine, and go back to being a young wife, in love, naive. Thinking Husband was the perfect one for me.
Before he become a drug addict, an alcoholic, a liar, a guy who struggles to make it through the day.
But I can’t go there. Today is November 27, 2012, and I am married to an alcoholic. We have children together. A home together. He may not live here anymore but our lives are still intertwined, and always will be.
Once you have kids, there is no real divorce. They’re yours forever even if you kick their lying asses out of your bed and home.
So I guess I have to go Al-Anon now. That’s what my therapist keeps saying. Actually, that’s what everyone keeps saying.
Ignoring all of this advice–especially advice I’m paying $50 an hour for–is getting kind of exhausting.
I found a few meetings and I’m going to try to go this week. I really am.
Last time I attended was two years ago. I found it overwhelming and very strange. Women were crying. One was talking about her husband being in the midst of a year-long relapse.
Year-long! I couldn’t take that.
I didn’t even want to be in that room. I’m not like those people. I don’t want to spend anymore of my time on Husband’s problem.
But I am one of those wives. And I’d better get some clarity and tools (whatever those are!) before I make any life-changing decisions.
So away to Al-Anon I’ll go. Kicking and screaming on the inside.
Pleasant on the outside.