I’m glad I got the chance to get high one more time. I’m glad I got the chance to feel numb and unbothered and free of the pain inside me. And I’m glad I got the chance to come down. To return to that pain and realize that I never wanted to do it again.
When I quit before, 8 months ago, I did it for him. I did it because it was the only way to get him to quit…but I see now that it would never have worked. You have to quit because you want to, not because you want someone else to. So the first attempt was doomed from the start. Because I didn’t really want to quit, and I had nothing to stand on when it came to saying no and meaning it.
This time is different. This time, I’m done with it. I’m done with it, because that’s not who I want to be. I have enough problems, you understand? I wish he would quit, I wish he would want to quit. I’m terrified that we’ll never be through with meth because he likes to be high, he loves it. All you have to do is look at him and tell it, that he adores it.
I hate it.
And I hate knowing that I’m stuck in this. I can’t leave him, and I’m afraid he can’t leave meth. I’m glad we don’t have kids…I would never drag my kids through something like this. It scares me to think we might someday have kids and then he’ll cave, he’ll get high and he’ll come home and I’ll be forced to leave him and never come back, because I won’t make my baby watch him get lost in a world beyond us.
I hate how it does us, how we can be in the same room and still be light years apart. How even trying to leave my thoughts to tune into his is a colossal effort. I hate how easy it makes losing each other seem. When I’m sober, I think nothing can make me leave him, nothing can tear us apart….but that’s not true. Meth can.
And it will. And you want to know the worst part?
He doesn’t even see it. or if he sees it, it doesn’t matter enough to change what he wants.
He’s strong, but even the strong make mistakes. He caved. It’s hard. It’s hard to quit something you love doing, something that’s been a part of your life, being your whole life for years. I expected a relapse.
And now I’m terrified that it’ll come more and more often and then we’ll be right back where we were in the beginning. In different worlds and this time…I hope I have the strength not to follow him down. Pulling myself back out of it the first time was hard enough, and I don’t think I can do it again. If I ever went back to meth as a common thing, I wouldn’t stop.
So I know, I’m done. I don’t want anymore. I don’t want it at all. And I don’t want to lose him to it. I want him to see the danger and to love me more. He used to say doing it wasn’t worth losing me…yet Friday…it was suddenly worth the risk…getting high was worth losing me.
And that hurts. A lot. What hurts more is this is a much bigger deal to me than it is to him. To him, he’s like eh, i fucked up, but hey wasn’t it some good shit?
He doesn’t care. He got want he wanted, he won. And I didn’t leave. i should have. I should never have come back, I should never have joined him. I should have been stronger, I should have made him understand that I won’t stick around and watch him kill himself. I should have made him understand that I’m done with it…because I can say it all day long, but the truth is, I didn’t resist temptation any better than he did.
But the next time? If there is a next time, which I feel there will be and it’ll be sooner rather than later, I’ll resist. I’ll fight. I’ll leave. Because I’m done.