Wow, I haven't written anything here since 2017. Weird how I find myself back here, close to two years later. Essentially, nothing has changed. Well, I take that back. We had another baby girl back in December 2018. We are still traveling in the wind like a balloon let loose on a hot summer day. I'm trying to find my principal place of peace, and he... only God knows where this journey will carry him.
We love who we love. Hopefully, some of us can discern when something (someone) isn't good for you and can separate ourselves. But then there's me, who loves a train wreck. I "love" being in one more than I love driving by one. I don't know if that's one of those cliche characteristics that makes someone a hopeless romantic or a hopeless dummie. I'm gonna go with the latter.
He has a calling on his life. A calling from God. He has a gift. He understands the gospel, is so effective at sharing the good news, and has a way with people. When he walks on the straight and narrow, life is a breeze. But there has been so much of this repeated trauma that sometimes I am inclined to think that I may suffer from some form of PTSD. There are triggers for things. Words that he may use, actions/behaviors, sometimes even songs that send me right back in trauma memory lane. It's never ending. I use my faith to help me out of the memory swamp more often than not, but reality just seems to be my lifeguard over and over. How did I get here? I ask myself this daily. I have yet to find that peace...oddly enough though I had a taste of it last night.
He got arrested. It was like a movie I had already seen. He picked me up from work and he was clearly drunk. Two hours. I left him alone for two hours, and this was the hell he caused alone in those two hours. I was on the phone with a sister from church, and I said nothing while he drove except that he needed to pull over and I would drive. He stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle of Easy Jezus (E&J - the cheapest stuff you can get for a pint) and went back to drinking from the passenger seat. I couldn't help my silent cry. The tears burst like fireworks from the corners of my eyes. All he could do was like at me and ask me disgustingly, What? - - I said nothing.
I picked up the kids who were really happy to see their father, but for him it was bitter sweet. We interrupted his plans. He jumped out of the car midway home and I had to circle back around to find him (yeah, I experienced this before too). He was at the gas station on the corner of where we live so I went to pick him up. He was stammering. He went inside the convenience store and was causing a ruckus. I sat in the car with the kids who were impatiently waiting for him to come out, after 25 minutes he came out and then went back in. I had no idea what was happening in the store, but I witnessed people coming out of the store and looking disturbed. I knew he was probably disrupting business in the store, but I couldn't bring myself to go inside because a.) I had the kids with me and b. I can't leave them in the car to tend to him. That's child endangerment. The cops pulled up and my mom instincts instantly kicked in. I just drove away.
Yeah...I left him to his own devices.
From previous experience, I knew he would possibly guilt trip me. But God knows, I do not wish to ever endanger my kids. You're at a convenience store, harassing potential customers and the store owners because you're under the influence. See, that train wreck? I wasn't willing to watch at all. So yes, I left.I get home with the kids when my extremely bright 3-year-old asks me, "Why did we leave daddy at the gas station? Damn bro.
Irony in all of this is that I slept really good last night. I don't know if it's because I knew he didn't have his cell phone and he couldn't possibly be talking to anyone and because I knew he was in jail. And I didn't have to worry about what he was doing. I think maybe it's both, but I was relieved, and I slept really well. I am God fearing, and I know God has a plan. I am weary. I am tired. He needs to grow up, and I need to just focus and worry about myself, but it's hard. It's really hard when you're in love with a mess. It's hard when you live your life being the custodian to that mess. But whose fault is it if you keep coming back for more?
8:11 A.M. - 07/25/2019