It doesn’t hurt to tell the truth

I hate to say it, but some days I am more bitter than others. Do I have a right to that bitterness? It’s good to at least feel something. Today was the court date from our Halloween ‘11 fiasco. Our date of separation. Our date that ended our cohabitation and 98% of our relationship. He called here bitching like he does when he comes in contact with the law. Whining about a fine. A charge was dropped, but one charge stuck. 150$ he owes. He was the one who, during the Halloween slush storm, decided to bring his drunk ass here and make a drunk ass out of himself. But today was reckoning day with the municipality. Happy Valentine’s Day. Another 150$ on top of the other money he already owes. How and why was I the one he directed his whine fest at? Why me? Cause I am involved I suppose, but he caused all this with his outrageous behavior, holding himself hostage in my bedroom refusing to come out, breaking my stuff, and breaking his hand when he punched the wall. Things become ugly when your partner, spouse, baby daddy has addiction issues. When the shit hits the relationship fan, that crap sprays everywhere, usually all over the family that is falling apart at the hands of a demon.
I have said before that I think he’s evil. That he was spawned straight out of the devil’s loins. I have seen evil and lived with him and even let it take me over. Evil feels good in the beginning. It is very seductive. It takes you into a place that is very difficult to get out of once you’ve been drawn in. Now that we are separated, broken up, apart, no longer living together my life has become easier. I am happy with my decision. The kids have adjusted well to the change. We are no longer in a conflict zone. No longer under siege from him and from me when I have to deal with him. His influence on me, the behavior and all his issues had such a drastic effect on me and my personality I had become a different person. I had lost myself in him. That person I was who was optimistic and happy go lucky and responsible had been consumed by him and his problems and life style. Even though I knew it was not right. Even though I knew better, I still let myself fall enslaved to the rescue, to the idea that one day things would change. How many days, months, years have to pass before a bitch realizes that who she loves is destroying her? I have lived through an addiction that is not mine own and have come out on the other side scathed, but stronger.
My son just said something to a friend of his on XBOX live. “It doesn’t hurt to tell the truth.” He’s 10. The boy is like his mother, not a real deep thinker, but every once in a while he’ll come out with a zinger like that. He’s right. It doesn’t hurt to tell the truth, but it does hurt to realize it, having people know all your dirty little secrets. The truth doesn’t hurt to say, but the let down we face from others, the scowls, the scorn, the shame. Living with that hurts, breaking apart from it and voicing it heals, rejuvenates and makes you grow. It forces you out of the safe zone and into uncertainty. Who wants to be honest with oneself? If the truth ain’t pretty.
The truth. Here’s the bullet:he’s an addict and I lived with, made excuses for, comforted, cared for and loved an addict. I loved when there was no reason to. I loved him because he can’t love himself. I saw the worth in him that he didn’t see. I struggled through ‘us’ alone. I made excuses for him. I lied to people for him. I got sucked into the lie.
More truth. I have seen him at his best and that is the person I Love.
More truth. He will never be clean. He will never be faithful. He will never be the man I want him to be.
More truth. That is ok. I am perfectly ok with that. I am perfectly ok without him. I am perfectly ok being a responsible mom and woman without him.
More truth.I am addicted to him and I am recovering. 
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I relapse. 
During our conversation about the court hearing and the fine, despite that Halloween fiasco and despite the decade long clusterfuck of ‘us’, he still said I love you. He still says he misses me. He apologizes for being flat fucking broke and cannot afford cards for me and the kids. That he feels bad because he cannot appreciate the people he loves.

He says all this as he goes home to his girlfriend’s house.
That’s a whole other truth. But that’s his truth to tell. Not mine.

Jill

2/14/12