Crazy Love

I still love my nearly ex-husband. I miss him. I long for our family to be a unit of four together.

I want to hug him, nuzzle his neck.

But he’s no good for me.

I want to lace my fingers through his.

But he is a liar.

I want to send him a text telling him these things.

But he is an addict, not working a program of recovery.

I want to lead him up the stairs, fit his body neatly onto mine.

But a man who is not honest with himself or me cannot be inside my body.

I want to bring him back home, make everything right.

But I cannot fix this huge gulf between us.

I want to shout yes! Finally! Even though it took you a year to ask, and I know you’re still not being truthful, sure I’ll go see that marriage counselor with you.

But I have to remind myself that I have walked that road and it has never resulted in any changes.

I want to tell him to not bother with his slut, that I’m better than her, that she can’t love him like I do.

But then I remind myself that I kicked him out, I initiated our legal separation, and I signed the divorce papers, because I cannot be married to a lying addict who refuses to get help for himself.

I want to email him, right this very minute, and ask him if he’s going to therapy yet, if he’s ready to be honest, if he thinks we can make our marriage work.

But then I remember that I’ve asked him those questions a million times over, waited a year for him to change, and I’ve never found any resolution or difference in him.

I want to quit dating, and go back to my bad marriage, because in the chaos at least I knew what to expect.

But I remind myself that this lonely serenity is far better than the chaos of living with an addict.

I want to drive by his house tonight, to see if he’s alone; I want to knock on his door and feel his arms around me.

But then I remember the gnawing loneliness of wanting more from him than he could give, because his drugs and drinking always, no matter what, came first. He was not present for our marriage. He was always looking over my shoulder, impatient to get away.

I want to do anything but go up those stairs alone, in my empty house.

But then I remember that I am on God’s timetable, and I cannot know what is around the corner; I must do the next right thing.