And So It Begins...
I haven’t heard from David tonight as I was expecting. I have no idea if our plans to go to Lancaster for the day tomorrow are still on.
This is a perfect example of one of several reasons why I would be completely insane to leave my marriage for David. I cannot live with this constant uncertainty and stress. I worry about David when I don’t hear from him. Not that I expect to talk to him every single day--I'm not that clingy--but when someone tells me they’ll call me and then they don’t, that is a deal-breaker for me.
While my husband has his own flaws, he is as dependable and reliable a man as I could ever hope for; he is truly a man of his word. He calls when he says he’ll call. Sometimes he even calls when I’m not expecting to hear from him at all.
When I don’t hear from David, it brings back a flood of terrible memories for me. When I left him on Wednesday night, he told me he’d try to call me the following day.
But I don’t want to feel vulnerable. I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment. And David has disappointed me so many times in the past. So, thinking that I was playing it safe, I told him not to worry about it, he didn’t have to call me on Thursday, to instead just wait until he got his cell phone back on Friday after work.
He said okay. Then he kissed me and told me that he loved me. And that was it.
It’s now 10:34 p.m. on Friday and I haven’t heard from him. He’s left me hanging.
Plus, I know today was his payday, and that opens up another can of worms for me.
Payday, when we were together, meant there was a 50/50 chance, or perhaps even better, that David would cash his check and disappear into the underbelly of the drug world for the weekend. He would reappear several days later, looking like a ghost of his former self. Crack bingeing does that to you, I suppose. And for three years, there was nothing I could do but hold my breath and cry endlessly and hope that he came away unscathed.
Well, guess what? I can’t live like that anymore. I’m not nineteen anymore. I’m a grown woman, in control of my life, and I don’t have the tolerance to bear that kind of pain any longer.
If I don’t hear from him by 10:30 a.m. tomorrow, I’m pulling the plug immediately and will never speak to him again. It hurts my heart to think about it, but I can’t deal with this. It’s one thing if I have to deal with his crazy (ex?) girlfriend, whom I suspect he will wind up going back to anyway. I’m OK with sharing him in that way. After all, I’m married, so he has to share me, too. So in a twisted way, that’s fair and equitable in my mind.
But drugs? No way. I can’t deal with that shit anymore. Those days are behind me. No matter how much I love him, there’s nothing I can do if he’s up to his old tricks.
About an hour ago, I took a Klonopin because I know how difficult it will be for me to sleep tonight with all this weighing on my mind. And the most disturbing discovery of today was finding a song that he told me about the other night at dinner, by a group called Blue October. He didn’t remember the name of the song, but he described it, and I found it on Google. It’s called “Hate Me.” I looked up the lyrics and I wonder if he was trying to send me some kind of message when he told me about this song. Or maybe I’m just analyzing this too much.
Lyrics to follow. Then I'm going to sleep. The Klonopin is beginning to kick in, thank god.
This is a perfect example of one of several reasons why I would be completely insane to leave my marriage for David. I cannot live with this constant uncertainty and stress. I worry about David when I don’t hear from him. Not that I expect to talk to him every single day--I'm not that clingy--but when someone tells me they’ll call me and then they don’t, that is a deal-breaker for me.
While my husband has his own flaws, he is as dependable and reliable a man as I could ever hope for; he is truly a man of his word. He calls when he says he’ll call. Sometimes he even calls when I’m not expecting to hear from him at all.
When I don’t hear from David, it brings back a flood of terrible memories for me. When I left him on Wednesday night, he told me he’d try to call me the following day.
But I don’t want to feel vulnerable. I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment. And David has disappointed me so many times in the past. So, thinking that I was playing it safe, I told him not to worry about it, he didn’t have to call me on Thursday, to instead just wait until he got his cell phone back on Friday after work.
He said okay. Then he kissed me and told me that he loved me. And that was it.
It’s now 10:34 p.m. on Friday and I haven’t heard from him. He’s left me hanging.
Plus, I know today was his payday, and that opens up another can of worms for me.
Payday, when we were together, meant there was a 50/50 chance, or perhaps even better, that David would cash his check and disappear into the underbelly of the drug world for the weekend. He would reappear several days later, looking like a ghost of his former self. Crack bingeing does that to you, I suppose. And for three years, there was nothing I could do but hold my breath and cry endlessly and hope that he came away unscathed.
Well, guess what? I can’t live like that anymore. I’m not nineteen anymore. I’m a grown woman, in control of my life, and I don’t have the tolerance to bear that kind of pain any longer.
If I don’t hear from him by 10:30 a.m. tomorrow, I’m pulling the plug immediately and will never speak to him again. It hurts my heart to think about it, but I can’t deal with this. It’s one thing if I have to deal with his crazy (ex?) girlfriend, whom I suspect he will wind up going back to anyway. I’m OK with sharing him in that way. After all, I’m married, so he has to share me, too. So in a twisted way, that’s fair and equitable in my mind.
But drugs? No way. I can’t deal with that shit anymore. Those days are behind me. No matter how much I love him, there’s nothing I can do if he’s up to his old tricks.
About an hour ago, I took a Klonopin because I know how difficult it will be for me to sleep tonight with all this weighing on my mind. And the most disturbing discovery of today was finding a song that he told me about the other night at dinner, by a group called Blue October. He didn’t remember the name of the song, but he described it, and I found it on Google. It’s called “Hate Me.” I looked up the lyrics and I wonder if he was trying to send me some kind of message when he told me about this song. Or maybe I’m just analyzing this too much.
Lyrics to follow. Then I'm going to sleep. The Klonopin is beginning to kick in, thank god.
posted by Anonymous at 11/10/2006 10:51:00 PM
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