During the time that you were using, I felt a lot of things. I’d feel alone when I woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Only to get up and find you passed out – standing up in the kitchen, in your car, in the garage. Or in the garage with the door locked. Your sleeping habits made me worried, concerned for your health and the health of our family. I felt resentful because you would stay up all night and sleep in the mornings, leaving me alone with our son for a good part of the day.
On days when I didn’t know where you were after work, I was worried out of my mind. Hysterical, almost. Angry because I knew you were going to the city for drugs when your wife and your child were at home, missing you and wanting to be with you. You’d make it home with barely enough time to even see your son.
Our son. I was scared for our son and what kind of life was ahead of him if you didn’t stop. I was worried about the disappointment and the hurt he would feel if he were old enough to understand.
I felt betrayed when you would lie to my face or text me things like – My phone’s about to die. It was across the room so I didn’t answer. I lost my phone! I’m going to the mall to get your Xmas present. I don’t know who that contact is in my phone. His texts are all gibberish.
Confused. Who was this person who would lie to me like this? Who thought I was dumb enough to believe him?
I was angry when you got high the night before Thanksgiving. At one point you had your face in a piece of raw steak in the kitchen, swaying back and forth. What are you doing? I asked. Smelling the steak, you replied.
I was scared when you didn’t come home that night. I thought it was all my fault – that I handled it all wrong.
I was devastated when you had to go back to rehab – not because you used again, but because I hated seeing you so broken. I was scared.
I am scared. I am worried. I’m confused. I’m still all these things. But I am hopeful.
I love you.