I came home from a meeting last night and it was about 9:00 when I got home. As I came in the door, my 16 year old daughter, purse on her shoulder and keys in her hand, was heading out the door.
"Where are you going?"
"I've got to go to the other house. Dad's still there. Every time I talk to him he says he's coming home, but then he never does. I went over there earlier to get some money and I think he was on drugs. I think he's using again. Now he turned his phone off and won't answer. We have to go see if he's okay!"
Her dad moved back in with me this past November. He stopped using six months ago and we decided to make a go of it again, eight years after the divorce. Nine years ago, I moved out. I had one year clean and sober and he continued to use drugs. I was determined not to relapse back into active addiction this time around. I had been through treatment three times (over a 7 year period) and every time I ended up using again. It wasn't his fault, but living with someone in active addiction while trying to stay clean is very difficult. I obviously found it more than difficult; I found it impossible. I walked away from a 16 year marriage nine years ago.
Yesterday he said he was going to spend the day working on the house we're trying to sell. It is the first house we ever bought together. It is the house I walked away from when I walked away from the marriage. It is the house he has been living in since the divorce. It is the house we've been working on, getting it ready to sell, so that we can buy a new house together, start fresh. It is the house my daughter and I found him in last night when he didn't come home.
She was right. He was using and had apparently been doing so all day long. I won't go into details, but what we walked in was not a pretty sight. It was all so ugly. What a horrible, ugly night last night.
My daughter drove my car home. I drove his truck home, with him geeking in the passenger seat, apologizing, begging for forgiveness. I remained silent. I couldn't speak. What am I going to do, that's the only thought I could form, what the hell am I going to do?
I woke up this morning with the same thought. It was getting redundant. I decided to pass it on to him.
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know, I just don't know."
"You need to figure it out."
"Please don't throw me out."
"I can't live like this. You have to do something. You need help."
"You can help me. You've been helping me."
"No, I told you before, I am not your savior. I cannot save you. I'm doing good to save myself. I can't save you, too. You must do it. I had to do it. No one did it for me. No one made me go to treatment. No one made me go to meetings. No one makes me go to meetings now. No one can save me but me. No one can save you but you. It's really that simple. Stop complicating it. Just get help."
"I hate those meetings. I will lose my job if I go into treatment. I can do this. I can stop. I've been clean for 6 months. I've been doing it. I can do this."
"Not here you can't. If you're going to continue doing this on your own, like you've tried over and over again for all these years, only to end up right where you are at this moment, you can't do it here. You can stay here if you do something different, if you decide to seek some help somewhere, if you go to meetings and get into recovery. You've been abstinent, but you haven't been in recovery. You could probably stay clean and abstinent for another several months... but then what? Then what? I'll tell you what. It's easy to predict the what. What will happen is what is happening right now. You'll use again because you can't help it. You'll use again because you have nothing to put in its place. You'll use again because it's the only thing you know to do. You'll use again because you're an addict. You'll use again because you'll need it again. I know. I know. "
"So what do I do?"
"Go to a meeting at 12:00 today. Go again at 7:00 tonight. Talk. Find someone after the meeting to talk to. Ask for some help. Get a sponsor. Or go to treatment. Call a treatment center. I called one last night, you refused to go. I can't make you. This is on you, now. I can't do it for you, I'm sorry. "
Then I got in my car and came to work. It was the hardest thing to do, to leave him standing there, to leave him in his pain, to leave him to decide.
But it is all I know to do.
I’m Maze. I’m an addict.
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