Crack, recovery, reconcilliation?
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The boyfriend has been summoned four times now to testify against the guy who stole one of his cars. He came back yesterday to find out the thief hadn't shown up for the trial. The fourth was this morning when it was revealed the guy is in jail in another town.
Sunday night knowing I'd be seeing him the next day left my sleep choppy, sporadic. At the shop yesterday waiting for him to come by after court I was psychosomatically ill at the idea of seeing him. With all apologized to any woman who – like my own mother – has been physically harmed by a man she loved – I felt like a battered spouse. (To be clear: he's never hit me; I could easily swat him to the floor.)
His unappealing qualities I'd first felt I could cope with. Not that I like angry fits, endless carping on the evils that others may have done you long ago. While the words may be written on an idle brain cell I have enough of an inner life to focus on more worthwhile things. After long shrugging this off I writhed at the thought of hearing it again. Or even being asked for money. I was anxious for him to be on his way back to Raleigh before he arrived.
Not that I was uncivil when he arrived. I took him to buy a few things he needed and bought him lunch. But I couldn't mask my feelings with pleasantry.
My discovery of his crack addiction and the tangled complex of lies his addiction spawned has recreated our years together. Looking back many formerly trivial things become disgusting.
Our separation is my convalescence. In privacy and silence I'll try to expell the venom. He wants to be back home. But for now I want to be alone. Not even my best friend can offer me consolation. Arrogantly, no one can help me think more clearly.
I have no use for blame. At least not for blaming him. He's a weakling not a comic book super villain out to do evil.
I certainly don't want him to feel guilty. Guilt is an impediment to clarity. Clarity is the closest you get to Socrates “right opinion.” For too long my boyfriend has displayed masterly craft in telling himself lies. As does most everyone. But his lies were deadly. If he can learn to view himself with distance he'll triumph.
Well that is too simple. Though he averted his eyes the truth was often there for him to see. He needs for his actions to match what he knows. At least to the level most of us manage. I think a few people don't tell themselves white lies. Most of us live with a steady series of trivial if not worse betrayals of ourselves.
(This is wandering somewhere between Dear Abby and half baked moral philosophy. I hope, knowing my hurt, you'll excuse my earnestness.)
He was back today but only for a few minutes. Today I hugged and kissed him. We both still love each other. When I think of him, without fooling myself, I smile.
The upshot of his drug addiction is that we have to establish our life together afresh. There are failings I can't glance past anymore. Disappointments that cannot continue.
I'm not going to say I'm going to be forgiving. That isn't a sane vantage for two people in love. I'm not going to forgive because I'm not going to blame. But I'm going to be more demanding. I am going to be more demanding. Old compromises won't do anymore.
Time, as they say, will tell.