I’ve made the decision to cut Kleo completely from my life, he’s been mostly removed anyway. These are just some final steps that draw indisputable hard lines and put reality into a state of logic and less of emotional pulls.
You do seem to hold on to a wee teeny tiny little sliver of hope that the person you love who has ditched everyone and everything of value for addiction – to have that epiphany. You’ve lived the roller coaster of mindfuckery for so long.
Face it, chances are you’re fucked, there is no pat on the back for being co-dependent that you held on to hope longer than anyone graced with the ability to have sanity and objectivity. The prize you walk away with is the memories of the good and the lingering nightmares of the bad.
The extraction of him from my life has been a series of push pulls, but I’ve had my own revelation. Not that he hasn’t done enough vile things as it is. Someone should smack me for loving a person who clearly hasn’t given a fuck about me (anyone that isn’t self-serving). I know it’s simple from an outsider’s perspective. Being in an emotionally abusive relationship with an addict, unless you’ve been there done that, understanding how incredibility hard it is to severe that is something you can’t explain. It’s a domestic abuse cycle. It’s a mother fucker.
That and children of alcoholics tend to be loyal to a fault. Thanks mom.
The fucking game with the taxes is still pretty fresh. That was immediately followed with some information from my Dr that scared the shit out of me. Still is.
Cliff not version – I’m going for a biopsy this week or next, stuffs going on, I’m scared. I made the fools mistake of telling my ‘husband’. That sliver of stupidly holding on to this notion that he *might* care.
I wasn’t stupid enough to think he would, I’ve come to learn he’s about as selfish, cold and heartless as they come. And remorse, I don’t think he has the emotional intelligence to grasp that concept. Which is painfully sad, because it is not the kid I grew up with, not the man I fell in love with and not the man I’ve ever known.
But this is a man who used synthetic marijuana, aka Spice/k12 – this is bad shit and it may have caused damage to his brain he will never recover from. This is what he is on when he becomes violent, I’ve seen him leave his child at a movie theater to get high, I’ve seen him foam at the mouth from using this shit.
I’ve been at the hands of his violence, where he blames me for that day in Oct, only to run to his mommys house where he used it more and more.
I tell him I may be sick, I am scared and I am scared to face some of the testing I’ve got coming up and the heaviness of waiting on that.
Technically I am still his wife. Those vows and crap that are irrelevant to him because drugs rot the brain. Ha!
There was some relief that he didn’t give a shit, it was exactly the response I expected. One more check in the list of what a vile human he has let himself become. I give him this information, he isn’t capable of doing the right thing. This is the same guy who had to be there for some skank and her Disney princess need.
That comes to my step forward to make that line hard and distinct. As a victim of domestic violence, I have rights to hold K accountable. I’ve had this in my head but guilt of hurting him (hello little miss co-dependent and weak boundaries gal!). I’ve blocked all contact from him, said my final shit and have handed it to my lawyer. I’m filing a tort case against him and closing this door.
Your wife is going for a biopsy of her uterus.
Oh, you don’t care. Awesome. Stay true K, stay true.