Anger/Frustration/Fear

It's 5:55 am. The house is dark, DH has already left for work and I am alone with two dogs and a kid. With any luck I will have a good half an hour before Munchkin wakes up. I was in the shower when he left.

Where are the dogs?

Upstairs?

Great, thanks....

Welcome to my weekend.

I get out of the shower, there is a coffee cup on the counter. Would it KILL him to put it in the dishwasher. The dishwasher that he just emptied and re-loaded. That he stomped about doing because he shouldn't "have" to re-load it. Can't he just hide the dishes in the oven?

Last night... last night I asked him to help me get things picked up for the cleaning lady. Last night it was, I'm too tired, I'm going to bed. I'll do it in the morning. Too tired?? Seriously... HOW is that possible?

Oh wait, there's the top to his bag of chips and the scissors are also laying on the counter. I pick up the garbage go to throw it away and the can is full. DAMN!! One more thing I have to do. I can guarantee you he did not take the garbage to the curb.

Let's start at the beginning. Thursday. He calls me at 4:30. He wants to know when we are going trick or treating. The guy he's working with is going back out to drill a couple more holes and he wanted to know if he could go with him. We were meeting his dad at 5:00. He gets MAD when I tell him this. As if it is a big inconvenience to him to have to leave work to trick or treat with his son.

Finally I just tell him to do what he needs to. I am slowly learning that his actions are NOT a reflection on me. I'm not a bad mom if he misses trick or treating. It was not MY decision. Finally he tells me he's leaving. He's mad, but he's coming. Mad because he has to spend time with his child??

Friday night. He's working. AGAIN. Look I like the money but I'm not really all that fond of the person he is becoming. He's tired... A LOT. When he's home he just wants to sit on the couch because he's had a long day. Well that's great... explain that to a two year old who hasn't seen you all day and just wants to play.

So he misses the meeting on Friday. He's missed a lot of meetings lately. That is not helping things. If you know anything about people in recovery meetings are their life lines. If they miss too many they start to become angry, irrational, frustrated. That seems to be DH's constant state of being right now.

He meets us for dinner after the meeting. He is dirty and tired but seems to be in pretty good spirits. We eat and I chat with my Al-anon friends. I realize that I do not pay attention to his conversation all night. This is MILES from where we were a few months ago, especially a few years ago. I was never able to have my own conversation at dinner because I was too busy listening to him to make sure he didn't say anything stupid or say anything that would embarrass me.

Saturday, he's working again. I'm with Munchkin all day. He's sort of clingy and I wonder if he's not noticing that DH is gone all the time. We play, he naps and the day seems to go fine. I send DH a text about going to dinner at 10:30 in the morning. His friend calls him about fishing at 12:00. When he calls me at 2:00 can you guess what he is talking about?

I have been home all day with Munchkin. He has been working and now he wants to be gone some more? He gets short with me. Upset that I would even suggest he change plans. Finally at 4:00 he is done working. He calls me, his friend went fishing without him. I guess I'm second best and he will settle for doing dinner and a movie with me.


We get ready. He plays with munchkin for a little bit. Although you can tell what he really wants to do is just sit on the couch. Then we take Munchkin to grandma's and we go to dinner. Munchkin is staying all night so we will be able to sleep in, perhaps be romantic.

No such luck. Our entire evening is filled with his little snips at me. We leave his mom's and he needs coffee. If I expect him to stay awake we need to go get it. Not just any coffee, mind you, a $5 mocca espresso thing. FIVE DOLLARS??

Then dinner. He didn't even want to go. Said we couldn't afford it and then he orders the most expensive thing on the menu. That is two nights in a row. If he thinks we are so poor (we're not, by the way) why does he keep ordering the MOST expensive thing?

Dinner goes well. Again I notice my ability to have my own conversation. Live my own life. It feels good. He talks with my friends husband. They chat and laugh, I miss it all, so engrossed with her in our own conversation. It feels good.

We leave and head to the movie. He hints at how tired he is. How he's unsure he can stay awake. Exasperated I just say would you just like to go home. No, no.. he's fine. He's sure he'll be fine. In the lobby, he is not fine. We have to wait. They printed the wrong movie times and he's standing. His feet hurt he needs to sit down. He's grouchy, after about 10 minutes I consider cutting my losses and just going home.

We wait it out. The movie goes fine but the car ride home, not so much. He is short with me, then as we are pulling in to feed the horses he drops the bomb of the evening. With us there is always something. One thing that takes a perfectly good evening, drops it off a cliff and then runs down and stomps on it, just to make sure it is really dead. Tonight it was him...

So, this guy I'm working with has a small pickup with like 200,000 miles on it that he is wanting to sell for like $3,000. All I can think in my mind is are you an idiot? And since it is 12:30 at night, or in the morning as the case may be, and my filter on my mouth doesn't work really well at that time that is essentially what ends up coming out of my mouth.

We just bought his car two or three months ago. We are NEVER going to get out of it what we bought it for. It runs fine and has MUCH less miles than 200,000. Why would we make such a trade?

He says he's just worried about the winter and us having two cars. Really? Are you kidding me? We have a neighbor, he can plow us out. We do not need a small pickup to do that. Where is his brain? Doesn't he think about these things?

I get out, feed the horses. When I get back in the car he's talking about something else. I tell him that I'm sorry that I snapped at him but I don't think we can get $3,000 for his car and it seems like a really stupid move to set ourselves back AGAIN right now.

What I'm thinking is for the love of god. I'm just NOW trying to get our debts paid off. Why would you add to that debt? Can't we just try to get ahead? Is that so difficult. From the way he reacted, I might as well have just said what I was thinking. It would have gone over just as well.

He's angry. I'm sure he called me names as he stomped out of the car and slammed the door. I just sit there. The engine running. He gets the dogs, comes back, opens up the door. I can tell he wants to fight. I don't want to. What am I doing? Why aren't I getting out? Why do I think he's so stupid?

That's the last straw. He slams the door again and I roll down the window. Perhaps you need to examine how you feel about yourself. I never said you were stupid, nor did I imply it. If you think people think that way about you maybe you need to examine your own self esteem.

He's standing there. Just waiting for me by the door. Why? A year ago he would have been glad I was sitting in the car. Why is he waiting now? I finally shut off the car and he storms inside. The conversation is much the same inside. Me saying he needs to go to more meetings, stop being so angry all the time.

Him trying to turn everything around. It is my fault not his. I'm the one who treats him like he is an idiot. No, I do not. Nor have I ever said that to you. I don't call you names, I don't treat you badly and I am VERY proud of the fact that you are trying to provide for our family and I've TOLD you that several times.

By this point I'm crying. It is NOT my job to fix him. He needs to fix himself. He gets upset, maybe I do have low self esteem. I go upstairs. I go to Munchkin's room, I hold on to his blanket, sit in the rocking chair and just cry. Hot tears. Tears of exhaustion and frustration. Tears of anger.

I'm feeling stuck again. Who is this man I'm living with? This angry person who loves me one minute and hates me the next? Why am I here? I'm here because right now, at this very moment, it's not enough. It's not enough for me to make the ultimate sacrifice and that is to share my son. I can't do it right now. He loves both of us and I don't want to put him through that. More importantly I don't want to put me through that. I couldn't go more than a day without seeing him. I would miss him and I'm not strong enough for that.

So I take his blanket and I go to bed. I wake up throughout the night and it is still there, with me. It smells like him, my sweet baby. When I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is call MIL. How is Munchkin? Do I need to come get him? She is doing chores and is then going to take him to Grandma's house. She will call in a bit when she's ready for me to get him.

So I go downstairs. I eat something and chat a bit with DH. Nothing about last night. It's as if it didn't happen. Then I get my computer and go upstairs to work on my life story. He questions me. 20 questions. Where am I going? What am I going to work on? Why does he need to know? What business is it of his?

I work on my life story until MIL calls at 10:15. I finish what I'm working on and then go downstairs to get my coat. DH is asleep on the couch. He stirs momentarily and then goes back to sleep. I go to get Munchkin. I'm there for a little while chatting and then we head home. It is 11:30 and he falls asleep in the car.

We get home and I take him inside. DH is still asleep on the couch. I go upstairs and work on my life story some more. About 1:30 I lay down. I'm suddenly VERY tired.

About 3:05 I here Munchkin talking. He has been asleep for 3 1/2 hours. I should go get him. Just 5 more minutes. Perhaps DH will get him. He's been asleep ALL day!! He comes upstairs and gets Munchkin. They go downstairs but I can still here them. Guilt takes over, I think I should go down there, be with them.

I get out of bed. We putter around the house until about 4:20 when Munchkin asks to go outside. DH doesn't want to take him. He hasn't done much of anything with him all weekend but he's tired. WTF?? He's been asleep ALL DAY!! Finally he agrees. I get Munchkin's coat and socks and shoes on him and they go outside.

About 4:45 my phone receives a text. A friend wants me to walk with her. I agree and am getting ready as DH brings Munchkin inside. Well, 20 minutes outside. Gee... don't strain yourself. I mention to him that I am going on a walk and that I could take Munchkin or leave him here since he hasn't gotten to spend much time with him.

I go into the bathroom and I hear WALK, WALK, WALK. Apparently that is my answer. Way to take the easy way out. He has done nothing but sleep all day and I have been with Munchkin all day yesterday and today and NOW he wants me to take him with me.

I agree. I know Munchkin will have fun. I can see how excited he is already and I'm not going to disappoint him. We walk, it is fun and then we head home. When we get there I am sure that DH is sleeping but am surprised to see him still awake. I cook a pizza and cut up a piece for Munchkin.

DH has eaten. Him and Munchkin ate sandwiches at 3:30 so I ask him to sit with Munchkin so I can eat. He acts like it is a huge chore. Can't you just help him while you eat? I want to go sit on the couch?

When we are done it is 6:45. He wants to put Munchkin to bed so he can watch the Simpsons. I told him I'm not putting him to bed until closer to 7:30 so he doesn't get up at 5:30 again. He is pissed that he can't watch the Simpsons. That is NOT something I want my 2 year old learning from.

Finally around 7:20 I am in the other room picking up toys for the cleaning lady. I come into the living room to pick up some more toys and he has the nerve to say to me why don't you take him up to bed now? SERIOUSLY?? I am doing something, you are sitting your happy butt on the couch (his words not mine) why don't YOU take him to bed? He rolls his eyes but agrees to do it.

When he comes back down he tells me that he is tired and going to bed. He will just have to help me clean things in the morning... which is how we got to where we are now.

Up at 5:00 by 5:30 he's sitting on the couch wanting to drink coffee. 5:40 he's slamming dishes around in the kitchen because I had the gaul to suggest that he actually help me like he told me he would do. 5:50 he's out the door (even though he didn't need to leave until 6:00) with his trail of mess behind him leaving me to feed the dogs, put them in the pen, take out the garbage, drag the 100 lb green thing to the curb, dress the kid, clean his room and try to get out the door by 7:15.

Welcome to my world....

Feelings

Brace yourself, I've got A LOT running through my head right now so this could be a long one.

I went and saw a movie tonight with some friends and it really got me thinking about a lot of things. It brought up a lot of "stuffed" feelings that I'm sure the creators of the movie never even intended. The movie we saw was The Secret Life of Bees and I would highly recommend it. Unless of course you are me and you have 10 years worth of pent up emotions just dying to get out. Then… maybe not so much.

So about that, this movie made me cry. If you have known me for any length of time you would know that this, in and of its self is AMAZING. Two weeks ago we saw Nights in Rodanthe and I cried at that movie too. Before that, it had been probably a good 5 years since I have cried in public. At anything. I could watch sad movies, talk about sad things, even go to funerals. Nothing. No tears. Both of my Grandmother's died in this time frame and the only tears I cried were during the actual funeral when everyone else was crying.

Someone asked me why I would come to this blog and write about all of these things that cause me pain. Why not just focus on the positive things in my life and move on. The reason is, because I can't. Because when I do that I end up going to a movie and then breaking down the minute I get into my car and bawling hysterically the whole way home.



Alcoholism [Addiction] has contributed to many dashed hopes, broken dreams, and considerable pain in my life. I do not wish to dwell on these feelings, but neither do I wish to turn my back on them. Al-Anon is helping me to face even the most unpleasant aspects of my past. […] I am able to feel the pain and mourn the losses, and then move on.

These feelings are a deep part of me; when they come knocking at the door of my awareness, I wish to open it and let them in […] only through this can I become whole and at peace.

-- Courage to Change, One Day at a Time in Al-Anon II



For me, I have spent so many years "stuffing" my feelings down I have essentially forgotten how to feel. There was a line in this movie that said sometimes people don't feel so that they can live. That was my life. It wasn't always that way. In the beginning I used to cry at a lot of things. He would call me a name or we would get in a fight and the emotions would come out. But over time you sort of become numb to all of it. The first time you are called a B!tch it really hurts but by the 50th time you just sort of take it all in stride.

Alcoholics / Addicts also tend to use those emotions to show that you are weaker than them. I remember several times breaking down crying and instead of getting sympathy or compassion from him I got ridicule. Stop being a baby. What are you crying for? After a little while of this, you just train yourself to stop crying. To hold it in and don’t' show any weakness. You train yourself how not to feel.



When I came to Al-Anon I didn’t' feel. […] When we had a child, I said, "No big deal, it's just another day. Nothing moved me at all. It was like being dead.

My Al-Anon friends assured me that I did have feelings, but I had lost touch with them through years of living with alcoholism [addiction] and denying every hint of anger, joy or sorrow. As I began to recover, I began to feel, and it was very confusing. For awhile I thought I might be getting sicker than ever because the feelings were so uncomfortable, but my Al-Anon friends assured me this was just part of the process.


-- Courage to Change, One Day at a Time in Al-Anon II



Now that I am starting to heal things are all starting to come back to me. Feelings that I thought I had stuffed so far down that they would never escape are suddenly coming flooding to the surface when I hear lines like why am I so unlovable? I spent a large portion of my time thinking that all of this was happening because DH didn't love me enough. That I had done something to make all of this happen and if I could just make him love me again he would want to stay home with me, want to be with our son.

None of that is true. He did drugs because he is an addict. Not because I was unlovable. When he would drink/do drugs he would get angry and violent. The dad in this movie is also that way and watching him go into fits of rage brought be spiraling back to that place in my life. Towards the end of the movie the little girl has a realization. She finally understands that her dad didn't hurt her because he didn't love her. He hurt her because he was hurting and he was lashing out at whomever was closest.

Somewhere deep inside I am slowly digging through all of those stuffed memories and repressed sadness, anger and joy. Slowly, I am learning to feel again.

Part III - CaCa's Story

**This is a guest post by a reader who refers to herself as CaCa.**

It all blurs together….sometime between high school and my first years in college I learned I had a half brother; my mom slipped it into conversation as if she had always known. All my life I longed for a sibling. After me, despite attempts and a miscarriage my mom was unable to bare more children.

After the divorce my PG “disowned” my BF, we never discussed him but he never told me of my half brother either. To be 20-ish and find out I have a brother who was only four years younger than me, it was like a dream come true, or so I thought.

I have the most amazing family. I have a dad who loves me and an entire family that welcomed me. Many cousins some of which, would later become my best friends. I have always had my maternal family: two wonderful grandparents that were more like a second set of parents, an aunt who was more like a sister and two uncles who would do anything to protect or provide for me. Then there was my mother. I wouldn’t trade her for the world and I knew with every fiber of my being that she was the best mother for me and a remarkable woman. That every decision she made she did so with a clear head, a heavy heart and only my best well being in mind. I had it all, right? Despite a life so full I had part of me missing.

By the time I learned of my brother I was old enough to make the decision to meet him. I remember that time vividly. We had spoke on the phone several times prior to meeting, so I knew of his upcoming football game. I saw this as the opportune time to meet him. Without his consent – I love surprises, my boyfriend (now my husband) and I jumped in the car and drove the two hours to get to him. I thought this way I could sit in the stands, watch him from afar and change my mind without any let downs. I didn’t though, we sat through his whole game as I anxiously awaited the end.

There he was coming out of the school with about five or six other guys, my boyfriend stood back as I walked forward. Without saying a word I tapped on his shoulder, he turned around and without a second thought he hugged me as if I had just flown in from across country, as if he knew me. He took me home with him, I met his mom, and we proceeded to spend three hours together that night.

Over the next several years we conversed on the telephone, shared emails, and visited on occasion. I made the huge decision to attend his high school graduation wondering who I would see or might run into. Turns out my BF came to my brother’s graduation, sadly when he saw me he left and didn’t venture to the after party. I felt bad for him, I felt like I ruined that time he at least could have had with our BF. At the after party we sat with my PG and later one of my paternal aunts who I did not remember or recognize. It is ironic how people act in our situation. My paternal aunt felt the need to fill me in on everything I missed without considering that maybe I didn’t miss it?

Shortly after, my brother joined the military and our conversations became fewer and further between. It was then the “weirdness” set in. Having a sister came so naturally to him. I wanted it to be for me to but it just never was. I think this feeling I could not shake came between my brother and me.

My mom longed for more children, my dad cared for me better than any dad I knew, and here I was longing for something they couldn’t give me and couldn’t have themselves.

A part of my life that didn’t come from the only thing I ever knew. A part of my life that I found, that they could never have. A part of my life they could never give me came from the one man that didn’t want me.

Guilt!

Comment Moderation

I just read your post and what I hear you saying is - Don't comment unless you are 100% supportive meaning you agree or don't comment at all? Is that what you meant to say or did I read it wrong?

Absolutely not!! Which means that once again I'm not making my point very effectively. So, Comment away. I feel a great responsibility for the people who tell their stories here. Real, or imagined, I just feel like if they come here to tell their story I don't want them to get bashed by someone who doesn't understand what it means to have loved an alcoholic / addict.

Someone who hasn't been to a family gathering and felt like crawling under a table when their addict / alcoholic did something stupid. Someone who hasn't had to bail their addict / alcoholic out of jail. Someone who hasn't heard the I'm sorry's and the things will be different. Someone who hasn't wanted with every fiber of their being to believe that this time it will be different. This time they will really change.

So to protect myself and others on this blog I'm turning on comment moderation. I want people to be able to comment but that way it will catch any hurtful or snide comments before they have a chance to hurt any one's feelings.

I would feel absolutely AWFUL if someone trusted me and this site to tell their story and then someone insensitive bashed them in the comments and they never came back. Or never felt like they could share any more of their story. I want people to feel safe here. I want people to be able to say whatever they want about their story and not feel attacked in any way.

Now, back to the real meaning of this blog because I have LOTS more to say.....

Personal

It has been mentioned to me that I seem to take some of the comments on this blog very personally. Even when someone is writing about someone else, I seem to get defensive.


Guilty as charged.


When I handed out this blog address I gave it to VERY specific people who I thought knew enough about my story to know things that I, or others who come here might take offence to. However, before the back story to this blog could be fully finished the address was given to some people who may not know all of my story. People who may or may not know what it is like to live in an alcoholic / addict situation.


The error is mine. I left the blog open because I wanted anyone who needed to be able to find it to do just that. I wanted anyone who is suffering to be able to find this blog and have a safe place to land, even if it is only for a momment.


I realize now that in doing that, I opened myself up to comments I was not ready to receive. In hindsight I would have not given anyone the address until the entire backstory from 1996 - present was written. But seeing as I am now working on that at a turtle's pace that could be awhile.


So for now, I want to explain myself a little and give those of you who are new a bit to think about. For me, the comments on this blog are very personal.


To quote from one of my favorite movies:


It wasn't personal. What is that supposed to mean? I am so sick of that. All that means is that it wasn't personal to you. But it was personal to me. It's *personal* to a lot of people. And what's so wrong with being personal, anyway? Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.

When you make a comment about something someone says you should make it as personal as possible. If you wouldn't say it to their face, you shouldn't write it on this blog. What you see here may be only half of a picture.

I come here because this is my safe place to fall and sometimes I fall really hard. I spend so much of my everyday life being happy and positive that sometimes I just need a place to come to let the rest of the junk out. But what I say here, is only half of my life. I write about the parts of my life that are affected by alcoholism / addiction. I'm not going to come on this blog and brag about how when I got home tonight my husband had cleaned the kitchen and made dinner. I will however be logging on when he has yelled at me or called me names or when he was lying on the couch while I was cleaning the house.

Things that I have not gotten to tell you about yet: being picked up and thrown across a room, staring down the barrell of a shotgun, dragging my 6 week old son to drug houses, leaving my son "home alone" to chase my husband down.

People in horrible situations often do horrible things. It is neither my place nor yours to judge the decisions that people make. This website is filled with people from all walks of life and I just ask that you consider that when you are making comments.

So, I guess to wrap up this long wrambling post I just want people to understand that this blog is very personal to me. And if you are going to make a comment on here, you better understand exactly who it is you are commenting about and what it is you are commenting about and if you don't know, then ask. There is an e-mail address over there on the right.

And if you still don't know than I would suggest that you practice one of the wonderful Al-anon principals and just pass on making a comment until you fully understand the person's situation.

Weakness

**This is a guest post from Jen**

"Jenny, are you sure you don't have any money? Check your pockets again."

I check again even though I know for sure there is nothing there.

We're walking to Des Moines right now. That's what Mommy told me when she finally arrived at the nursing home two hours late. I knew something was wrong as soon as she was late. This morning she dropped me off to visit Lily, the 94 year old neighbor who used to babysit me until she moved to the nursing home.

I was waiting in the lobby for her when she arrived on foot to get me. All I could think of was to get out of the building and away from the worried and pitying stares of the staff. I hate them.

She didn't tell me what happened but I can put things together pretty well by now.

There was a small incident that set him off. He escalated to the point where she had to run out the door - afraid. There was no chance to get her purse or the keys to the car. She just had to run.

Did you check all the way deep in your front pockets, Jenny? Are you sure you don't have a dime?

I check again for her. She has already walked across town to get me and now she tells me we are walking all the way to her work in Des Moines. I am skeptical of this from the start. I don't see how we can possibly walk this far. It takes a long time to get there by car. She wants to make a phone call but neither of us has even a dime for a payphone.

We've been walking along the highway for quite awhile now.

"Jenny. This isn't going to work. You can't walk fast enough - we won't get there before dark."

So now we've turned back towards Norwalk. I don't know where we're going. I'm not sure if she knows.

"If I could just borrow a car for the night. It's really no big deal - just a disagreement."

The phone rings at the Waltzes house. It is Daddy asking if they have seen us. We don't know the Waltzes that well - their daughter has babysat me, the husband likes to tinker with engines. They say, "No." they haven't seen us. I think they realize the urgency now and they are going to let us borrow their son's VW bug for the night.

Sitting now in the VW I am filled with a sense of physical relief. I don't think I've ever walked so far in my life. My legs hurt.

I'm excited now, too. It feels like an adventure now. It is just the two of us. We are going to spend the night at the pre-school my Mom directs. She says we will sleep in the cubbies with big pillows and I will be able to play with any of the toys I want - that we will play together.

There is also a sense of hope. Maybe we won't be going back this time. This time seems like it was really bad. Maybe it will be just the two of us from now on.

"Glenn. It's me. We're in Des Moines."

Stupid! No! Why is she calling him?? Why? I can see what's coming.

"I know. Okay. I'm sorry. Okay, we'll come home tonight. We'll be leaving in a few minutes"

So that's it. We're not spending the night. We're not sleeping in the cubbies and playing with the toys together. We're going home to him again.

We walked all that way for nothing. We went through all this for nothing.

She didn't even teach him a lesson.

We're driving in the little Bug that seemed so exciting before and we're going home.

I am so angry.

She is weak.

I hate weak.

I am not weak.

The Couch

For years I have had a hate-hate relationship with our couch. Not really our couch even, all couches in general. I remember before DH and I moved in together we vowed that neither one of us would ever sleep on the couch and for awhile after we moved in I tried to enforce that rule.

When we were dating his dad slept on the couch. First out of necessity (his - he had a broken foot) and then out of more necessity (hers - she just couldn't stand him, the excuse was his snoring but I saw things differently). I think by the time I arrived in the picture their marriage was strained. By the time DH moved out it was just hanging on by a thread.

Eventually, after about a year, his dad got tired of sleeping on the couch and moved down to the bed that was in his mom's "office." Many an argument was had about whether that room was an office or his bedroom and if it was his bedroom what did that mean for their marriage. After DH moved out, the line was officially drawn. She turned that room into her "work room" and his dad moved into "his own room" which used to be DH's bedroom.

So, needless to say I had a BAD view of sleeping on the couch. And, it didn't get any better when we moved. DH liked to stay up late to "watch tv" on our couch. Which basically amounted to him sneaking out of the house to do drugs or sitting on our couch drinking as much as he could until he passed out.

When we first moved we had a different couch. It was not long enough for him to sleep on and stretch out but that didn't seem to stop him. I suppose when you are passed out from drugs or alcohol you don't particularly care where or how you sleep. After awhile, I stopped waking him. But I never slept. I would get up every hour or two just to peak down the stairs and see if he was still there, still asleep. It was about a 50-50 shot. Many a night I walked down the stairs to find the living room dark and him no where to be found.

Sometimes he was outside, many more times he had snuck out, gotten in his car and driven away. No rhyme or reason. I remember many times sitting there on that couch calling him over and over and over. Ring, ring, voicemail. Redial.... ring, ring, ring, ring, voicemail. Eventually he would just turn the phone off and I would just get voicemail. Then I would cry. Until I went to Al-anon I always wanted to know the reason why.

I remember just chanting over and over, pick up, pick up, pick up. I just wanted to ask him why. I thought if I talked to him I could make him come home. That I could win over the addiction, I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

On the nights that he would stay home the couch was often a dumping ground. There is a burn hole in our couch from something. (Also in one of our pairs of sheets for our bed) One side of our couch does not work, (it's a reclining couch) and I'm not sure if it is because of something he did or simply because it is a hand me down.

There were several days that he would get up after a night on the couch and I would stick my hand in the end to find the remote and instead would be greeted with a pipe, some drugs, a bottle cap, a beer bottle, etc. Things were hidden throughout our house but the couch seemed to be his favorite spot.

When DH left for treatment the couch was cleaned. I turned it over swept it out, cleaned all the crevices, dumped out all the memories and the bad feelings and then I sat on it. A lot. I played with munchkin, I laid on it after he went to bed, just tried to get the bad feeling to go away.

And for the most part, it has. That is probably the most used piece of furniture in our house. But still, at times, that lingering feeling is still there. Last week DH had a sinus infection. And he snored... BADLY. So he offered to sleep on the couch so that we could both get some sleep. I agreed but in the back of my mind there was still a nagging feeling.

Then I fell asleep, and when I woke up it was 6:00 and my alarm was going off. I think that is progress.

Part 2 - CaCa's Story

**This is a guest post by a reader who chooses to refer to herself as CaCa**

Never forget a face; never forget a daughter became my issue throughout my childhood and adolescent years.

After my mom and BF divorced, a custody suit pursued. Let’s not kid ourselves, the custody suit was between my mom and my paternal grandmother who I have been told loved me but should have invested her energy toward some psychiatric care for herself. She attempted to hire local people that would testify to my mom being an unfit mother and having extramarital affairs. Neither of which could be further from the truth. In the end my BF was allowed one weekly supervised visit at my maternal grandparent’s house. I never saw him again.

When I was about four or five my paternal grandmother died and a relationship with my paternal grandfather (PG) ensued. He had always watched over my mom and I, the best he could considering; never missing a birthday or Christmas. I can remember when I was very little he would come to my maternal grandparent’s house which was only blocks from his to drop off my Christmas gift. Then when I was old enough my mom would let me call him to arrange my own visits often times dropping me off and picking me up there. It was always one on one time with Grandpa and soon his new wife. Over all those years of one on one time I lost touch and contact with any other paternal family member. My BF had four sisters; there was a whole family I didn’t know. My BF would make me an occasional gift one of which was a jewelry box with my name inscribed. He would leave it for me there and my PG would gift it to me.

Looking back over time I can’t remember a time my step dad and his family wasn’t in my life. Even though I could never choke out the name “dad”, he is every sense of the title and more, I refer to him as my dad – the name never rolled off my tongue easily. When I was 4 my mom and dad met and by the age of 8 they married. I was less than thrilled about sharing my mom and I remember feeling like I didn’t like him. He had long hair and drove a loud Harley that he built in our living room out of parts in five galloon buckets. He would pick me up from school on it: pull my waist length hair back in a ponytail, change me into an older shirt so the oil wouldn’t spray all over my uniform and away we would go. Looking back now I see the sweetness and the tender ways but then I longed for my mom to continue every step of my life which turned into wonder and this overwhelming personalization of why my BF never wanted me. He could see me, call me, send me anything, ask about me, something….yet he never did. Soon I had been sent off for my first day of kindergarten, switched from private to public school, joined sports, entered high school, started dating, excelled in choir, cheerleading, and swim team, graduated, went on to college, married, and bought a house.

He could have been across the street as I went through the double doors for my first day of school, he could have been a face in the crowd cheering me on, he could have been peeking through as I stood in my white dress, he could have been but I know he wasn’t because I never knew his face.

Part 1 - CaCa's Story

**This is a guest post by a reader who chooses to refer to herself as CaCa**

My mother got pregnant out of wedlock, married her high school sweetheart (my biological father = BF) shortly after, slapped by the reality of the person she thought she vowed to love and see forever with, regretfully entrusting the same person with her daughter, and shortly after divorcing looking back with no regret and facing a hopeful but scary future “alone”; just her and me. That’s the beginning of my story all wrapped up into one long winded sentence.

One long winded life belongs all to me. My mom learned of my BF’s drug addiction after they were married, which increasingly worsened over their sort time together. It was like a roller coaster from everything she has told me. He would try to get better even sobering for a while until the roller coaster fell and he crashed harder, then he would start to climb back up again. There were times when she didn’t realize the gravity of his addiction; she would have to entrust me with my BF. My mom was in the kitchen, I in the living room with my BF when she heard a heart dropping scream. I had bit my tongue in half. She says I tried to pull myself up onto the footstool my BF was relaxing on, she thinks I slipped and fell, but wonders if he moved his legs causing me to fall; either way not watching close enough – he wasn’t. He never did.

‘We never had much money so I would have to wait until Friday when your dad got paid to get groceries. This became a Friday night ritual; we would meet at the door. I always took you with me but this night it was a blizzard out and I didn’t want to take you out, so regretfully I left. I knew I wouldn’t be gone long; there wasn’t much money to spend. When I would get home from the store your dad would meet me at the bottom of the stairs to help me carry the groceries up. We lived on the upper level of an apartment house. Only this time he didn’t come down. I filled my arms, climbed the stores and tapped my foot against the door….nothing! When I got inside he was passed out in the living room, you had pulled the knife drawer out in the kitchen and locked yourself in your bedroom which must have happened right after I left because you had been crying for some time. I made it through the night, we waited until he left in the morning for work, called your uncle K and he came and packed us up. We left, never looking back. Your dad would call telling me he changed begging me to come back, he stole my car your grandpa bought for us, he would drive by all the time but I couldn’t go back.’ This is the story in a nutshell.

Over my 29 years of life I have heard so many stories about him. Two years ago I passed him in the corridor at a local gas station in our hometown – I didn’t know him he was merely a stranger in passing, he may or may not have recognized me. How do I know this? …. My aunt, my mom’s younger sister was behind me. She would never forget his face.

Attitude Is Evertything

Attitude: A small word that can make a big difference

The two things that I can control in life, my attitude and my actions

These phrases have been running through my head since I finished with my Al-anon meeting tonight. Sometimes I just need a meeting to remind me not to get lost in the bad parts of life and instead to enjoy the good parts.

So far on this website my attitude has not been all that stellar. In a way, this website for me is a double edged sword. It helps me to heal by letting me get it all out there but it doesn't always portray my life in the most positive fashion.

So tonight I just wanted to take a few moments to focus on the positives that do exist in this life that I continue to choose every day. And that is the key really, I choose this life. No one makes me stay.

God, give me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference. I can change my life if I choose to. Thus far I have chosen to stay because I love my husband and for the most part I love the person he is becoming. Sometimes I just need to remind myself of that.

Tonight I went to the store to get milk and his prescription. I sent him a text on my way home that read kitchen pls. When I got home the dishwasher was running and the counters were clean. Simple as that. Ask and ye shall receive.

Since I had no resentment towards him when I got home we were able to sit down as a family and eat dinner together. A very nice dinner in which Munchkin ordered us all around. Daddy eat... mommy pizza, etc.

After dinner I headed off to my meeting. I was grateful at that moment that he was able to stay home with Munchkin because just 18 months ago he wouldn't have been able to.

After my meeting I was driving home and I saw a man pacing back and forth on the street. He kept looking at his cell phone. In the neighborhood I was driving through, I know what he was doing. But I'm grateful today because that is not DH. I don't have to worry about what street corner he is on trying to score his next fix. I know when I get home the dirty plate may still be on the table (it was) but he is sober and my son is bathed, read to and sound asleep.

A little while later I passed a little league football game and I started thinking that in a few years that might be us and I am grateful that DH is going to be clean and going to be able to be a part of Muchkin's life in a way that a lot of addicts don't get the opportunity to be.

So many things to be grateful for, so much of a different outlook when you just change your attitude and your perception of the situation.

So, I guess what I'm saying is while I may write about some really heavy and depressing things here I need to remember to also focus on what is getting better and what is going well lest you all want to crawl into your computer screens and beat me with your old shoe!!
:-)

Selfish

We teach others how to treat us. That is a phrase that has run over and over in my mind. Someone mentioned it in the comments and it really reminded me how stuck I feel. In Al-anon I have learned that I can change some situations simply by changing the way I react to them.

In a lot of areas of our life together this has helped. If I can ask him to load the dishwasher instead of doing it myself and then resenting him for it, I save the resentment and the dishwasher gets loaded. The problem is, who asks ME to do it? Why should I HAVE to ask him all the time?

This morning he says to me, I need to get my prescription refilled. I said to him, you are a big boy, call the number on the bottle and I will pick it up after work. He didn't call. He has left it, once again, up to me to do or our little family unit to suffer the consequences.

This is a theme I hear about quite often in AA and Al-anon circles. I looked for the topic in my Courage to Change book but couldn't find it but the fact is that alcoholics and addicts tend to be very selfish. When they are in the depths of their disease they only think about getting their next fix, about themselves and their needs.

The problem is, this is a learned behavior, and one that is hard to break. When FIL was in jail his only worry seemed to be about whether the neighbors would find out and it would ruin his "reputation." Never mind the mess he had created for his family. His concern was purely of a selfish nature.

For DH this seems to carry over into a lot of our lives. And I, am no less of a guilty party in this. I have let him "learn" how to treat me. Or, in a way how to treat himself. For so many years I accepted this unacceptable behavior and now I'm tired of it but I don't know what to do.

I've asked and asked and tried and tried but I don't seem to be getting answers that work for us. I tried the credit card thing and you see from the last post how well that went. I've tried letting him decide how much money he brings home from side jobs and how much he keeps. That SEEMS to be working well in the fact that now he tells me how much he gets and then gives me some. Not always how much I THINK he should give me, but it is a start.

However, my biggest problem is respect. How the hell do I get that? I don't want to be his mother but what is an acceptable "consequence?" I can't ground him when he throws a fit and calls me names but I also don't want him to think it is ok.

This morning he needed gas. He called me and demanded that I get him the bank card, again he shredded his credit card and I don't trust him to have full access to the bank account, and seemed genuinely pissed off when I didn't drop everything right then to get it to him.

After I dropped Munchkin off at daycare I told him to meet me at the gas station that I pass on my way to work which is a different way than he usually goes but NOT out of his way. He seemed pissed that I would even suggest that, instead he wanted me to go out of MY way for him.

Finally he pulls into daycare, I walk out and get into my car and he peels out onto the road. He knows I am TWO cars behind him yet he can't wait for me to get there. Instead he just starts pumping gas and tells me to go inside. Inside to wait with the 20 other people, thereby making me LATE to work.

This is unacceptable behavior, but what should I have done? I didn't want to give him the bank card since we only have one and I use it for everything I need where as he uses cash. So how do I give him a consequence for treating me like that without being his mother? Keep in mind he is now 36 hours off of medicine so the manic is already starting....

I just really feel stuck between continuing to play the roles that we have played and trying to move ourselves into different roles. I want so much some days to just run away and start over somewhere else with someone else. Would I let them treat me the same way or would I be stronger?

Maturity

I'm having a really rough time right now dealing with DH's maturity level. Or rather lack of a maturity level. They tell you that when someone starts using they stop maturing. For DH this was somewhere between 13 and 16 years of age.

When I was told this I just nodded my head. After all, he had to be better off of drugs than on drugs, the rest we could deal with right? Seriously, this is MUCH harder than I anticipated. Some days it is like I have two kids instead of one.

Let me explain. DH has to take medicine. He has a "chemical imbalance" that may or may not have been present before the drug use but is certainly present now. If he doesn't take it regularly he is prone to mood swings. Sometimes violent screaming, throwing things mood swings. It is AWFUL!!

I have to remind DH on a daily basis to take his medicine to avoid this happening. I do not get to slack off and worry about myself because if I do we have weeks like two weeks ago where we get in HUGE arguments because he becomes irrational and "manic." I HATE having to be his mother. Last night he told me he had taken his last two pills.

I will have to call the pharmacy, I will have to go pick up the prescription. This is his last refill, his doctor left the practice. I will have to find him a new doctor, make an appointment, and remind him to go. If I don't, it is not just him that suffers the consequences, it is our whole little family unit.

And it is not just medicine... it is his whole life...

He had a credit card. He misused it terribly, but so did I when I was first getting used to having them so I excused it. It had a very low limit and I figured we would work through it and he would get it. It was nice, he could stop and pick up things at the store, grab food on the way home, etc.

About three months ago he didn't take his medicine and I didn't remind him. He had an "episode" A screaming, yelling, I want a divorce episode in which he ripped up the credit card and threw it all over our lawn.

I haven't replace it yet so I am back to being the only one who can stop at the store, pick up his medicine, pickup food, etc. It sucks. I pick up Munchkin from daycare, it would be SOOO much easier for him to stop and get milk than for me to stop, with the munchkin in tow and get it. Yet, I have to stop.

Aside from learning to live as an adult I also have to contend with the "social issues." I don't know how best to describe it to you except to come right out and say it. DH has the social grace of a 13 - 16 year old. And not just at home, in public too. And sometimes it is damn embarrassing to me. He will do or say something that I think is EXTREMELY immature and it makes me embarrassed and I react with anger.

This doesn't usually go well. A friend of mine has pointed it out and I have been trying really hard not to embarrass him in public but sometimes it is really hard. He is also this way at home. For awhile I thought some of his actions were cute, now they are wearing on me.

This morning he yelled at me because I let my alarm go off twice and then I got up, went down stairs and he came downstairs and apologized and then asked if he could get in the shower with me. Seriously? To me this just shows a lot of immaturity in social situations. Like he doesn't know that is not how you treat other people, etc.

It's hard for me to explain, but it is tiring, and wearing on me and just writing it here makes me feel 100% better about it, even if none of you fully understand....

Lies

I'm deep breathing right now. I HATE lies and it seems like that is all DH's family is made up of, one lie after another.


On Sunday DH's dad got arrested. We are not allowed to tell anyone. WHY?? What is with all the secrecy?? It is PUBLIC record. All you have to do is go to the courts online website and you can see everything that he was charged with as well as all of the motions that have been filed, etc.

Yet FIL hasn't even told his family that live a few towns away. When he found out that SIL (DH's sister) told her in-laws he was really upset. They live in the town with his family and if they know than EVERYONE might know.

Then last night I get home and I find out that DH talked to his dad on the phone and his dad admitted that the pot that they found on him when he was arrested was his. Despite the fact that EVERY time we talked to his new wife she adamantly told us that it was NOT his. So DH asked FIL, What does Step-MIL think of all of this?

His answer, oh it is what it is. Which basically means, I didn't tell her, don't say anything. MORE LIES!! That is one of the things that infuriates me the most about this disease. The lying. DH does it all the time, over simple stupid things.

Did you feed the horses?

Of course I did.

Are you sure because I'm going right by there on my way to my meeting I can do it.

No, I did it.

So I stop, and lo and behold, no, in fact he did NOT feed the horses.

When I question him... he thought I would be angry that he forgot so he lied to me. It is things like that that just tear me up. They make me want to pack up my son and run for the hills and never look back. Take him somewhere where he knows that there is a better way to live his life.

But I can't run. This is our life, for better or worse, DH is Munchkin's father and I can't run from that. So we try to work through it. He talks to his sponsor, I talk to mine and we hope that tomorrow is a better day.

One day at a time. One lie free day at a time....

Blog Format

I'm going to be doing a lot of jumping around on this blog and I don't want you to get confused so I want to explain things a bit. When I write an entry from the past I'm going to put it back there. Someday if I print all this stuff out then it will be in order. However, I will put a post here with a link to there. Ya follow me yet?? :-)

Anyhow, I think you'll catch on eventually.....

Introduction

I think at the beginning of any blog it is necessary to have an obligatory introductory post. So here it is. Here I am, I guess.

12 years ago I met my husband, here after referred to as DH. He was 15 and I was 16 and I'm not sure in those 12 years we have ever gone more than one week without speaking to each other. Somewhere along the way I learned that he did some "recreational" drugs and a lot of "recreational drinking/partying."

In hindsight that should have been my clue to run... run far, far away. But I didn't. Something in my urged me to stay, to try to fix things, that somewhere deep down inside he was a good person.

This website is my attempt to find out why it is I had that compulsion to stay. And also my safe place to come and write about the events in my life that lead up to where we are now and the things that are still happening with us.

When he was using I thought if he just got clean our life would be perfect. I was wrong, more wrong than I ever knew I could be. It doesn't get perfect, it just gets different. Now I go to Al-anon and I work with my sponsor to try to understand things.

I've always used writing as my tool to help me process my life and I'm hoping that this blog will be my outlet. My way to write about everything that happened in my past and is still happening in my future, process it, and hopefully let it go.

Want to join me on this journey?

Sarah

Throughout all of the drama with my lady business I still couldn't manage to let go of DH. I would still talk to him on the phone almost every day, no more than ever two or three days. It was like fatal attraction. I still love you but I can't be with you. That sort of thing.

And for awhile there was Sarah. I have had a love-hate relationship with this name through the years and for me, the hate part started in the fall of 2000.

Right after I got diagnosed with the STD DH started dating Sarah. When I was younger Sarah was my favorite name. It was the name of my first cat, my special fortress and what I was certain I was going to name my first daughter. After this, it moved to the bottom of the list.

At some point I was at DH's house right before Thanksgiving and we slept together. I know, I can hear you now. You slept with the guy who gave you an STD? Look, I didn't say I was sane back then. So yes, I slept with him. And then I told him he had to pick between Sarah and me.

Just to make sure of it, while he was in the bathroom I got her number out of his phone. When he refused to break things off with her I did what any crazy woman would do, I called her. Explained to her who I was, that Jake had given me the STD and that she should be tested, and that oh yeah, by the way he just slept with me again.

She confronted him, he confronted me. And then his dad, in true enabler fashion found a way to make this all my fault. I remember the conversation clearly. I was sitting in the parking lot of the pet store. His dad was yelling at me about how I needed to mind my own business and I needed to let DH have a new life, etc.

I remember feeling crushed and thinking that I had lost him forever. Lost him to a girl named Sarah.

STD

When a man gets an STD, usually there are some symptoms. Burning, itching, etc. When woman gets one, often times there is nothing. They can go on for months or years without knowing anything is wrong.

For me, it all started with a burning when I wiped and a funny smell to my urine. I went to the doctor thinking I had a UTI. They ran a couple of tests and just to be safe did some STD tests. At the time I just went along with it. Didn't think anything of it.

Then I got the call. The one that tells you that you have positive proof that the one you are with has been unfaithful. I remember my mind grasping to try to understand it. Questioning the doctor on how I could have gotten it. Poor woman probably was just shaking her head, wondering how I could be so naive as she explained to me that no, I couldn't have gotten it from a toilet seat. It came from sex with someone. Someone who was supposed to be sleeping only with me.

When I hung up the phone I cried. Then I called him. I remember it like it was yesterday screaming into the phone at him that he had given my chlamydia while I drove the 30 minutes from my place to his place to confront him in person.

After I got there some words were exchanged but really, at that point, what can you do. I remember going out to his driveway, sitting in my vehicle and just sobbing. Wishing for all the world I could make the hurting stop. At some point he called me, asked me what the heck I was still doing in his driveway. Basically told me to leave.

This man, the one I thought I loved, was essentially telling me that my pain meant nothing. That it was time for me to go now. So I left, went back to college with a heavy heart.

As it turns out, for him all the symptoms were there but he was just too afraid to tell me so he waited. Hoping it would just go away. For him it took a course of antibiotics. For me it took much much more.

I battled a raging infection that would not go away for over two months. I was on round after round of antibiotics. Once a day, twice a day, three times a day. Finally two days before Christmas the doctors tell me the only option left is IV antibiotics. I am admitted into the hospital on December 22nd and spend the next two days hooked up to really strong antibiotics in an effort to kick what had not turned into PID.

When it was all over, when the infection finally left my body I was left with one thing. The knowledge that if the infection had damaged my tubes I may never be able to have children. The one and only thing I KNEW I wanted from my future and now, I was uncertain if it would ever happen.

Cell Phone

The first time I got DH a cell phone was in September of 2000. We were celebrating our 4 year anniversary and it was kind of my gift to him.

Since he had no credit it was sort of my gift to myself since it was in my name and I charged the setup cost and phone costs on my newest shinny piece of plastic I had acquired only days before.

The phone stayed with DH for all of a month and a half before it became the topic of heated debates.

The Tattoo

DH had one tattoo. He got it over the summer. It was a tribal sun on his ankle that he showed up with one morning after a night of partying.

It was paid for by a girl he swears he didn't sleep with.

I remember it like it was yesterday. The anger, the sadness, the longing to believe that she was just a friend even when SIL told me that her friend had called asking if she was just a one night stand.

For the entire time we continued to date and were married the only thing that tattoo did for me was disgust me. Every time I saw it there was a rock in the pit of my stomach. And every time I asked DH to consider getting it removed he refused. I guess at that point I should have known where his respect for me was.

I lived for 8 1/2 years with a man who carried a mark of infidelity on his ankle. Something I never got over.

Oz Fest

Sometime in late June I got my first experience with DH's concert scene. Not first hand mind you but being left at home while he went to party. DH had a friend, RW and the two of them were known to get into trouble together.

Some how one of them came up with the brilliant idea to make a road trip to Apple River in WI to go to Oz Fest. I don't remember the exact conversation but I'm pretty sure there was yelling and crying and you can't go.

But in the end, he went. I knew it would be trouble. I already knew at this point I couldn't trust him although I don't think I realized to what extent. I had a hunch there would be drinking and drugs. I think the women part didn't really enter my mind until later.

Money Matters

In June of 2000 DH and I were back to our usual fighting in all of it's glory. This particular day we were at his parents house. I had just gotten a new jeep, well new to me, the previous fall and at some point as we were arguing he got into it.

The details I don't remember the sound the door made as the jeep rolled backwards and it caught a tree I will never forget. The door was open and something had to give and it wasn't the tree.

I can still see it in my head, the wrinkle down the drivers side door. The horrible sound it made every time I tried to close it. I told my parents that the wind had caught it and sprung it. I didn't know how to tell them the truth.

Then I freaked out trying to figure out how to fix it. This was WAY more than wind damage and would actually require a new door. Something my parents would surely figure out if I turned it in to insurance.

So, one day, when a credit card offer came in the mail I applied. Then rather than charge the repairs on the card I took off cash. $900 to be exact to have someone fix the door. As I look back, I'm guessing perhaps this was friend of the DH's family who offered to do it for cheaper than paying a body shop. I don't know why else I would have paid with cash and not charge.

Either way, this moment in my life was the first, but certainly not the last, time that I began borrowing and charging to cover up the mistakes DH made. This moment when I chose to go in debt rather than tell the truth was a turning point down a long, steep, slippery slope.

Can't Stay Gone

As bad as I thought it was and as much as I figured we were over DH and I somehow found a way back to each other.

At this point MW had moved out, DH had moved out and so it was just me, alone in a two bedroom apartment. I put an add in the college paper and had a few people come look to sublet it. I finally settled on a nerdy graduate student named W.

After W moved in DH and I rekindled our relationship and by January we went on a trip to Disneyworld together. I don't remember a lot of the trip but I do have pictures and it appears that we were happy. That we had a good time.

Through out the winter and spring we took a couple more little trips like this. Just a few weekend excursions to try to make us feel like more of a real couple. One I remember specifically. It was May, we went up north to do a little shopping and a little fishing.

It was windy and much colder than it probably should have been. We didn't have a boat so we had to shore fish and DH was frustrated and pissed off. I remember just wanting to be done. Wanting to go home so I didn't have to deal with him anymore.

Then in June DH's grandfather passed away. All of his family had traveled the hour and a half to see him, be with him, except DH. He said that death bothered him, that he didn't want to go. So when his grandfather passed he was the only one that was not there. He did end up going up there for the funeral and I drove up on the day it was held.

His grandpa was cremated and I remember this was the first funeral I had ever been to where there wasn't a casket. There was a picture and a little box. I remember being really bothered by that little box, knowing that his grandpa was in it.

After the funeral I went outside to say my goodbyes before I headed home and I remember his dad pulling me aside and thanking me for coming. Thanking me for being there to support the family. I remember at the time and still even to this day finding that really strange. It was June of 2000. At this point I had been dating his son for almost four years. Why wouldn't I have been there?

The Final Straw

It is late. Eleven, midnight, one. I am not sure now. We are standing in the parking lot of a gas station. The gas station is closed and DH is on a pay phone. I am about 300 feet away from him just standing, watching, waiting.

There has been another fight. His bag is packed. He is waiting on his mom. She is coming to take him home for the last time.

I do not remember what the fight was about. I do not remember if I yelled at him to go or begged him to stay. I just remember standing there, in the cold, watching his mom pick him up and them drive away. I remember walking the block back to the apartment in tears. Tired and defeated thinking that this was the end. This time he was never coming back.

Choosing DH

After the domestic DH moved out and back in with his parents. More out of necessity than anything else as there was a mandatory no contact order issued because it was a domestic. However, as soon as I could I started working to get the no contact order lifted and then I started working with his big fancy lawyer that his parents had hired to try to get him out of the charges.

During all of this MW had made it very clear that she did not want him returning to the apartment. That if he came back she was moving out. This was the first time I was asked to choose between him and someone else and the first time I picked him. I made excuses but at the end of the day I still picked him.

She wasn't working and he had a job in our town that he was having to drive 45 minutes to and from every day. So I used that as the reason he needed to come back. It was lame and a cop out but I did it just the same. So somewhere in the beginning of October she moved all of her things back to her parents house and DH moved back in.

The Domestic

**This is verbatim from the statement I gave to police. Most of it I don't remember but it gives you an idea as to how dysfunctional we were and how crazy this disease made me. I'm sorry it's so long. I was very wordy....**

It all started in my bedroom. DH cam in and told me he had decided that he didn't want to go to a movie. I got upset and told him that I was getting ready and that he was going with me. He went to leave the room and I stood in front of him so he sat on the bed. After talking for a few minutes he told me to get ready and we would go and he went into the living room.

While curling my hair I heard the front door close and footsteps on the stairs. So I ran from my room to the stairwell and down the stairs and I caught him at the bottom of the stairwell and asked where he was going. He said to get a cigarette and he promised to come back so I went back into the apartment.

I continued to curl my hair and DH came back up and went out onto the deck to smoke. After a few minutes he came back to the bedroom and said I really don't want to go. I told him that he promised and he got mad and said whatever and stomped into the living room. I then heard the door open again and I sprinted for it. He was on his way down the stairs and I tried to stop him numerous times but couldn't. Finally at the bottom of the stairs I got in front of the door and told him to go upstairs. He told me that he wanted to leave and I said he needed to go upstairs. He tried to move me but I held on to the door knob so he stomped back upstairs and sat in the living room.

Back upstairs I was getting really mad and so was he. Every time he would get up I would go stand in front of the door. It was that this point that MW came over and started bitching about him. She said, "Well just tell him to go to hell and you can come with me. He's an asshole you should just come out with me." Well this made DH mad and he came over and told her to stay out of it and that we shouldn't be talking behind his back. I told him we weren't and that I just wasn't leaving because I had to stay and babysit him because he has promised to do something with me so he was going to, whether it was at a movie or sitting in the apartment all night.

By this point he was pretty angry. MW headed towards the bathroom to finish getting ready and DH went into the living room and sat down. I went in to talk to him and sat in another chair. We talked for a little bit and then he got up to leave and I ran to get in front of him. I tried to shove him and he tried to get to the door without hurting me. We kind of wrestled for placement a little and somehow I ended up in front of him. I grabbed on to the doorknob and he tried to move me. He then looked at me and said, "You better move because I don't want to hurt you." I didn't move so he tried to move me again and couldn't. He then said, "Move, I don't want to hurt you." and I said, "Go ahead because I'm not moving." However the next time he tried to move me I let go of the doorknob so the added force he used sent me flying across the kitchen. I was so mad I went after him and jumped on his back and hit him on the back of the head.

He was a wrestler so he swung me around into sort of a headlock and tried to get me to go back into the apartment. I stumbled and he looked at me and said you better be careful, you don't want to fall down the stairs. I said I didn't care and he went back inside. Then MW decided to get involved. I told him that I wanted him to go and get anything he had brought with him (because he was supposed to spend the night) and get out.

{{Interjecting briefly here... he lived with us... but I was trying to convince the police he didn't so they would drop the domestic charge. I was hoping they would see that both of us were crazy and that he didn't live there so it couldn't be domestic. I think the crazy part is well established....}}

He said he would come back for it later and I told him he wouldn't and that I wanted the key he had to the apartment. He took it off of the key chain and threw it across the apartment. MW went and got it and picked up the phone and set the key on the counter.

He went to leave and I was in too much of a shocked state to stop him but then I ran after him. He went to his car and I followed telling him he didn't need to leave and that he needed to go get any clothes he brought because I didn't want him to come back. He got into the car and started it and I reached for the keys and he pushed me away. I then jumped into the car as he was backing it. My body was behind him and my legs were out the door but he wouldn't stop. I guess he must have hit the other car then because he stopped and pulled forward. He then got out and I grabbed his keys. that's when he grabbed my arms and swung me into the other car in an attempt to get his keys back. He tried to pry them from my hand and said you better give me my keys so I don't hurt you.

At this point I thought he might hit me so I told MW (who was standing at the bottom of the stairs) that if he touched me she needed to call the police. So he walked away from me towards her and told her if she called he'd hurt her. So I put the keys in my pocket, locked the car and shut the door. I then walked past him and past MW and up to the apartment. MW followed and then DH. She tried to shut the door but he came in. I went and sat on the couch because I was in shock. DH came to talk to me and I wasn't scared of him. he asked me for his keys but I didn't give them to him. He then headed for the bathroom and I followed. He tried to use the phone but I unplugged it saying it was my phone. He then got a phone out of the closet that he had given me and tried to use it and I wouldn't let him so he went to the closet to put it away and I went into the bathroom.

The next thing I know I heard him yell, "If I can't take my car I'll take yours." And so I ran after him and he said give me my keys and I refused so he headed towards my car down the stairs and I got in front of him and he just looked defeated and set my keys on the stairs and walked past me.

He walked through the parking lot and was on his way to a pay phone when the police arrived. The house key he had he must have grabbed on the way out with my keys.

**************************************

Wow.... it has been a good 5 - 7 years since I have read that story and just reading it now makes me cringe. That, right there, is how DH and I continued to fight for the remainder of our relationship. He would try to leave I would threaten, cry, scream, take away keys, anything to get him to stay.

In the end he was physically violent with me but over 50% of the time there was a chance to walk away before it happened and I didn't take it.

The Party

I'm not a partier. I have never been a partier. I did not attend a single party during my high school days and during college I went to one and only one party. I remember vividly trying to fit into DH's life. He was living with me now and I desperately wanted to try to be that happy couple I had been dreaming of.

So one weekend he decided to take me to a party with his new friend D. I'm guessing he figured this would be a mild party for me to get brought into. I can remember the row of "apartments" we went to that looked like storage sheds from the outside. I can remember the one that they told me not to get to close to, it was guarded by a big dog. In my head I have a vision of something off of the Sandlot but I think that was just in my head. I'm not sure I ever saw this killer dog.

Once I was inside this "apartment" (and I use that term loosely) I began looking around and immediately judging what I was seeing. It was small and not well taken care of. The people at this party were making crude druggie jokes. At one point there was a story told about C's little sister and how they could say to her that it was 3:20 and she knew that meant she had to go to the other room so they could get high.

It was at that point I felt trapped. I wanted to run for the door but I didn't want to seem uncool. I desperately wanted to fit in to DH's world so I could be a part of it but I felt horribly uncomfortable and out of place.

After a little while longer one of the guys said something and then they all headed upstairs. The gist of it was that they were going upstairs to get high. Thinking back on this I kick myself. I knew they were going upstairs to get high. Yet, I stood there and did nothing. Just allowed it to happen. This is what happens at parties I told myself. Be the cool girlfriend. Act like it's no big deal. Be a part of his world.

In the 13 years I was with DH I never once saw him do drugs. This night was no exception. He went upstairs and I stayed downstairs. After about 20 - 30 minutes he came back downstairs and we acted as if everything was cool.

Finding Them

When DH moved in with me I guess I thought moving to a new town would force him to find new people. This is something that happens a lot in the program. People think a relocation will change things, make them better. But it doesn't.

As soon as DH moved in he set about finding a job. The first job he found was as a chef in a restaurant. Unfortunately they had him working the night shift which he didn't like. He says it was because he never got to see me but I'm guessing it has more to do with him not getting to see his friends.

After about a week or two he ended up quiting that job and finding a job for a landscaping company mowing lawns. Within the first week of that job he had found a new group of druggies to hang out with. D worked with him and his girlfriend C was also into it.

I remember at one point having a conversation with DH, one I have also had with several people in the program regarding finding these people. How do they find them? How do you know to just walk up to someone and ask them about illegal drugs?

Regardless of how he did it, he did it and thus began the same old ways just in a new location.

The Apartment

Despite the fighting and the uncertainty somewhere along the line DH and I decide that it is a good idea to move in together. We find a two bedroom apartment and my best friend MW and I sign the lease.

The idea is that DH will live there and we will split the rent three ways but he will not be on the lease for... well I'm not quite sure what the rational was here. It is quite possible that MW and I got the apartment and DH decided to live with us later.

Either way we got the apartment on August 15th. We told my parents DH would be moving in with us about August 10th. My dad's response was there are only two bedrooms, where will he sleep?

I think they thought it was a bad idea right from the start but they never told me no. Maybe because I was 19 and they thought I would rebel. Maybe because they never realized just how bad it was. I'm not sure but I really wish they would have.

Done?

How do you know when you've fallen out of love with someone? He called last night alright, promised to see me this afternoon then cancelled to be with D the scum from hell.



I saw him, for a minute and I know he'd been drinking and probably smoking pot. I don't know what it's like not to love DH, but if it's possible that's probably where I'm at.



Everyone wants him to live with me and I just want to forget he ever exhisted. I can't say I hate him, but right now I dispise him.



Everything he does makes me sick! I'm in a three-year relationship with a man I don't know and never see.



I can't call him because I just left him fifteen min ago and he said he's call me when he got home. That could be 11:30 for all I know!



I think I will always lover him but I'm am not in love with him anymore and I don't know if we can get that back.



God I hate my life!!

M&D's Wedding

D had been my friend since I was in high school. In July she got married to M. I was a bridesmaid at the wedding. It was the first time I had ever been in a wedding and I was pretty excited about it.

The wedding went fine and everything seemed to be going along smoothly until the reception. I don't remember specific details but I do remember that there was drinking by DH. Copious amounts of drinking.

So obnoxious, in fact, were his attempts to get alcohol and to get drunk that a week later when I spoke to D on the phone she made it a point to mention to me how everyone was mad at DH at the wedding because he acted so immature about alcohol.

This was the first time I really remember being self conscious about him in a social setting. Up until that point I felt like I could hide it. It was always happening at home or with his druggie friends but at this point it started to spill over into the rest of my life.

So, I avoided going out in public with him. Didn't go out at all as a matter of fact. That way no one could judge him and he couldn't embarrass me.

Trip to MO

For July 4th we decided to go down to Lake of the Ozarks in MO. I remember that my parents didn't want us to go and I remember pulling the I am 19 and we are going to stay with family it will be fine card.

So, off we went in my fancy camero. I didn't want DH to drive but somewhere along the way he convinced me it was a good idea. And we got pulled over. I just knew my mom was going to KILL me because he was not covered on my insurance.

I can still remember the conversation we had with the police officer about thinking the speed limit was 65 and him saying no you are on HIGHWAY 65 the speed limit is 60.

Luckily the police officer went easy on us young kids from out of town and didn't give us a ticket. After that I remember sitting in the passenger seat looking over every 5 minutes to make sure we were still going within the posted speed limit. I think within about an hour I made him pull over so I could drive again... just to be sure.

On top of just going to Missouri to visit his family, we also had work to do. Well, he did... but we all know I would never have let him do his own work. You see, when DH graduated in May he didn't really graduate because he was 1/2 a credit short. So he had to take a class to get that credit. I remember that this weekend we were in Missouri was the last weekend he had to get the information done. I'm not sure how many of the assignments I actually did for him but I'm pretty sure it was a lot. Without my constant prodding I'm not sure he would have actually completed the assignments.

Looking back now, I should have just let him do it. Let him feel the consequences of his bad decisions by not getting his diploma or by having to do extra work. But I didn't. My fairy tale wouldn't be perfect if he didn't have the diploma so in my mind I was just "helping" him.

Happy Birthday

Somewhere along the way I learned that my birthday and any other should be important day (i.e. anniversary, valentine's day, etc.) was just another way for me to be disappointed. The first one I remember was either when I turned 17 or 18. I went to look for him because he was not at his house and found him down this long lane by his house smoking pot with this kid.

He tried to blow it off like it was nothing and handed me a card. A card and a red rose from Hy-Vee purchased on his way home. That was what I was getting for every major occasion. With out fail.

The year I turned 19 he added something to the mix. Instead of just the normal disappointment he got a ticket for possession of drug paraphernalia and underage possession of alcohol.

Happy Birthday to me...

Compromising My Values

Sometime in early 1999 my main focus turned to keeping DH around. At this point I had invested over two years in this relationship and I sort of felt like I had to keep him around. Every time he got in a fight with his parents I would get a guilt trip from them about how I was so good for him and he would be so much worse without me.



Somewhere along the line I decided that it was my job to try to save him. And to do that, I had to compromise some of the values I had. The first time I wrote about it was as follows:



I guess things are slowly getting better, but he still does pot at parties. I don't know what to do about that. It REALLY bothers me, but according to him its no worse than drinking and my father drinks, so what can I say about that?



Always, a justification. Always a reason why it was ok, in that instance. Somewhere in early 1999 I had also convinced myself that when he graduated from high school we were going to move in together. It was all part of my plan. The plan to save him. Marry my high school sweet heart and live happily ever after.



But... not with him... with the guy I wanted him to be. The very next paragraph in my journal shows that very obviously:



All I know is that if we live together next year I WILL NOT have that shit in my house. And with the way his parents and him have been getting along that may be more of a possibility.



Looking back now I wonder why I didn't see it. That perhaps there was a reason he was not getting along with his parents. That perhaps I should open my eyes instead of blaming them and see the real problem which was him.



Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda I suppose....

The Beginning of the Violence

I'm at DH's house. His sister and her new boyfriend are sitting in the sun room. DH and I are arguing. We always argue. This time it's about what it is always about. He wants to go with his friends, I want him to spend time with me.

He doesn't have a car. I'm not sure if it has been taken from him or if it is just in the shop but at the moment I am his ride and I'm not doing what he wants. He wants me to take him to a friend's house and I want him to stay here and "talk with me."

He grabs the house phone, this is before he has a cell phone, and heads for his bedroom to call a friend. I threaten him, I yell I scream and yet he locks the door so I can't get in. So I tell him I'm going to unplug the phone in the kitchen (it's a cordless). This is my standard protocol. Yell, scream and threaten. Anything I can to control the situation.

I turn around and head for the kitchen. I come around the island and just as I am reaching for the phone cord I hear footsteps behind me. He is yelling and running at me and the next thing I know I am airborne. I sail for a good 20 - 30 feet from the kitchen over the dinning area and land in the mud room next to the back door.

His sister and her boyfriend are stunned. I am in shock. He has never touched me before and now this. I don't know what to do. He retreats to his bedroom and I begin to cry. I'm just sitting there on the floor, pretty convinced that my tailbone is broken and not sure what the hell to do next.

Eventually, his sister and her boyfriend emerge from the sun room. They ask if I am ok and I weakly tell them yes and then I get up and head for my car. Like a dog with its tail between its legs I retreat. I'm not angry, I'm sad and embarrassed. I feel like I did something wrong.

Mother or Girlfriend?

We'll see if he can get a job. He had one, for three weeks, which he quit/got fired from. So, he's been one week without and he better get one soon or I will not be happy.

Temper, Temper

By October of 1998 I was already doing everything I could to avoid DH's temper. I wrote in my journal that:

I'm so afraid to bring it up though. I'm not ready to fight with him again. A lot of things scare me. We need to talk so badly, but it scares me. I hate his temper and it seems I'll do anything to stay away from it.

From this point forward my life became about walking on egg shells and the HUGE arguments that ensued when I just couldn't do it any more. Every time I would let things fester and then it would be one giant blow up. Right from the beginning I didn't want to make him mad, never realizing that not speaking up would make things much, much worse.

Once a Cheater...

The second time DH cheated on me, that I know of, was in October of 1998. I don't remember a thing about this incident other than the fact that it is written in my journal. Looking back I find that the most depressing part. That this had become such old hat that it doesn't even warrant a memory in my brain.

So, once again, I will quote verbatim from the journal:

Well, my life has become confusing again. On the 10th DH broke up with me. On the 9th he cheated on me. So I guess on the 10th I broke up with him. Then on Sunday the 18th he called me and begged my forgiveness. Then, I went to see him (which I probably shouldn't have) and now I haven't talked to him since.

I told him I wasn't ready to take him back full time yet. That I had to gain a lot of trust in him and that I had to get the musical out of the way. So now I wonder if he's thinking, hey I got the best of both worlds. I have her and anyone else I want.

Which is NOT what I want at all. I want him to be faithful. He can't prove I can trust him if he can't do that. So now I don't know what to do. I love him but I no longer want to be treated like shit.

The Wedding

I will never, as long as I live, forget the day of IDM's wedding. And in talking with him, he will never forget it either. As his bride was walking down the isle I was the only person in the church not looking at her. I was too busy looking at him. Hoping against all hope that he would change his mind, tell her he couldn't marry her and bolt for the back of the church.

He said he remembers me looking at him. He's supposed to be watching is new wife walk down the isle and there he is looking at me as I'm looking at him. He says I was giving him a death look, I think I was just signaling the end of life as he knew it.

I remember telling someone that it was the most loveless marriage I had ever been to. Their toasts at their reception were I always knew they'd get married. Nothing about how much they loved each other, nothing about how they were destined to be together.

She wanted to be married before the baby so the wedding was rushed and I just remember thinking that will never be my day. And ya know what, it wasn't. My wedding was fancy and overblown and took a year and a half to plan and while they are just as miserable as DH and I were they are still married and we are not.

So, I guess in a way, neither one of us seemed to have succeeded.

Engagement

Sometime in the summer of 1998 my parents got a phone call I will NEVER forget. Someone called to tell them that IDM was engaged. I remember them telling me like it was no big deal. They had no idea that somewhere, in the back of my mind, I kept hoping he was my way out.

When they told me that my heart just SANK. I remember going to my room and crying and crying. I could not figure out why he would marry her if he had just been broken up with her a few months earlier. It was a few more months before I found out she was pregnant.

Part of me gave up the day I found out he was getting married. There was a part of me that just stopped fighting, stopped raging against what I hated in my relationship and just accepted that was my life and that was what it was always going to be.

18 years old and I felt like there would be no one else out there worth looking for so I gave up. Is it possible to go back in time and shake your former self??

25th Anniversary Party

My parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary on August 4, 1998 and in honor of that they decided to renew their vows and have a very large party. The date of that party was August 15, 1998. DH came to the party and about an hour into the party he told me that he had a movie that he had to return to the movie story.

His excuse was that his mom would be mad if they had a late fee and so he had to drive the movie back but he would be quick and be back right away. An hour later he was still not back and I was in my parents office trying to call him. Over and over and over trying to call his parents house and other numbers I had for him.

He didn't have a cell phone at the time so I was just trying to call anyone I thought of where he might have stopped. Two hours later he finally called me from a pay phone. He had been pulled over for speeding and he had gotten a ticket for no insurance along with the speeding ticket and just for good measure they had towed his car.

I spent two hours of my parents party in the office next to the phone and another hour gone because I had to be the one to leave the party and go get him.

I'm thinking the late movie fee would have been cheaper.....

Graduation

When I graduated from High School DH showed up at my graduation party with a gift. Never in our year and a half relationship had he purchased me a gift without me knowing about it and so I was a little surprised. I can still remember where I was standing when I opened it, with him and his mom looking on.

It was a ring. A blue topaz, in the shape of a heart with two diamonds on the side. It is his birthstone. It was supposed to signify how much his heart would be with me when I went away to college.

I can still feel the sinking feeling in the bottom of my stomach when I opened it. I did not know it was possible to love and hate something so much all at the same time. I was excited that he had gotten me a surprise. Loved that it was a ring, I was into rings, I had one on each finger but I HATED the fact that it made me feel like I owed him something.

Now he had given me this beautiful ring I couldn't just break up with him when I went off to college. For me, it was always something. Always an excuse why I COULDN'T leave, even though I REALLY wanted to.

To make matters worse Impossible Dream Man (IDM) showed up at my party. Him and I had ALWAYS joked that he was going to come back for me when I turned 18 but I never... EVER believed that it was true. Yet there he was, I had turned 18 just a few weeks prior and there he was at my party.

He pulled me aside and told me that him and his girlfriend had broken up and my stomach just sank further. Inside, at my party, was DH and his mom and on my hand was this ring he had just given to me, yet standing in front of me was the man I really wanted to be with.

To this day I STILL kick myself for picking the way I did. I don't know if IDM and I would have ever even gone on one date. I don't know if we did if we would have liked each other. But I REALLY.... REALLY wish I would have given the ring back to DH and given it a shot. Now, I will never know.

05/11/98

Well, I'm still here, still with DH. Although I'm beginning to want out. I love him more than anything else in the world but what I want from him I'm afraid he can never give me. And every day it becomes harder and harder to leave but sometimes I want more.

He doesn't think pot is bad. He's a kid and I don't know if he'll ever realize that. He hasn't done it for a week but he says after high school he may go back to it. I don't think I can do that. If it's this hard to get out now, how hard will ti be later.

I love him, that I know but i hurt because of him. I wish there was no such thing as drugs and alcohol. I wish I never had to deal with this. Sometimes I wish I was dead. That way that hurting would stop.

What I want from him is forever; a clean forever. What will I get? Maybe a month. Tow or three more and I have to get out. Living like this is killing me. I want him, but I WANT HIM CLEAN!!

***************

I'm not even sure if I can express to you how much it hurts me to read these words. To know what my life became and to know that it took 11 more years of this and much, much worse for me to finally walk away.

11 years of my life and I will never know why. Why did I stay?

03/31/98

**I'm pulling this verbatim from my journal. I'm not sure how I can paraphrase it or make it sound any better than it was already written to be.**

Well it's been about four months since I last wrote anything. Four months of pure hell might I add. Yes, DH and I are still together. However he's not clean. Then why am I still with him? I ask myself that once a day, really I do.

But I love him, more than anything else in the world. But there are so many times I just think, I want out, God help me. But then I see him or I talk to him and I fall in love all over again. Without him I don't feel whole, but with him I often feel empty.

Right now I don't think he's talking to me because of the latest pot incident. I just wish so much he'd get his act together and at least stop lying to me. I love him, and nothing he can say or do, besides cheating on me, will make me love him any less.

Who knows, maybe that's the wrong attitude to have. Maybe I should just do what MIL says and drop him and find myself. But I don't want to. I want to love him, I do love him. And so life stays complicated, at least for now.

************************

If only I could go back. If only I could leave the journal where my mother could find it or someone... ANYONE who could shake that 17 year old me and tell me over and over that I am worth SO much more than that.

Somewhere, somehow I convinced myself that love was all that mattered. If I loved him then I HAD to stay with him. Oh how I wish I could take that back now....

The Ring

Somewhere along the way I had convinced myself that if DH gave me a ring, then it would mean that he was serious about me. That we were going to be together forever. Of course that's what giving a girl a ring means.

So I started dropping hints. Not subtle at all. Large hints. Elephant in the room hints that what I wanted for Christmas contained Emeralds and gold and could be warn on my finger.

Really subtle right?

So... imagine my surprise when on Christmas morning I opened a box and what did it contain. Why a ring with an Emerald in the center.

Broken Down

"I stopped by his house tonight and he was obnoxious right from the start. It was horrible. He told me he didn't want me there and that he had told me no before, which he didn't. Then he told me to go home. Then he told me I was at his house 24 hours a day.

He's the one who told me I could come to his house no matter whether he was there or not and that I was always welcome and now he's going back on that.

He embarrassed and hurt me in front of his parents and MS. It was awful and it still hurts thinking about it.

He basically told em I was a pest and a bother to him and he only wanted me there when it was convenient for him.

AND that hurts, more than he'll ever know.

The worst part is I can't cry: It hurts so much I can't cry."

College Choices

I can tell you right now that the number one reason I choose the school I did for college was because of it's proximity to my house. The fact that I ended up with a full ride scholarship there was a consolation prize.

I picked the school closest to DH first. But the cost was astronomical. So I picked the closest state school and ran with it. Looking back now I wonder what would have become of my life if I had the courage to venture a little farther. Attend a state school a bit farther away.

As it was, during this time I was looking at colleges but the only thing I was thinking was how do I find something that is the shortest distance away from where he will be.