Just for Today

It's so late, and at the end of such a long week, I should be in bed. However, I am sitting here with so much energy, so excited about my day. And tomorrow. And the millions of possibilities it holds.

Let me back up a little. I am sure if you keep up with this blog that you're curious about what happened last weekend. I posted a tribute to a relationship that seems impossible to make work while one person remains in the throws of addiction. It's not him I hate, but the addiction. It's not him I've been dating - it's the addict. I went down and stayed Saturday night with him. You know, one more night of "normalcy" - one more night with someone who has consumed so much of my thoughts/time over the past year. We both deserved that. On Sunday he woke up and made me pancakes and fake sausage (yes, fake, because I don't eat the real stuff). We went to the driving range. We got in several tiffs over stupid stuff. When I left, I recommended we take some time to ourselves to think about things, about us, and about what we each need to do to be fair to each other (and ourselves, of course). There were tears. Mostly mine because I kinda knew what that meant. I drove away and sobbed. I sobbed for us. I sobbed for the "us" that could have been. I sobbed because I was walking away from someone I love who needs help, regardless of my acceptance of the fact that I cannot be the person to give that to him. That was so hard. These words don't do justice to the pain of that moment.

I made it through the week just fine. I had my moments where I wanted to get in my car and drive south to Providence. Yeah, I had plenty of those. But I kept myself busy. I helped a friend pack her kitchen. And I hung out with Bode Miller. And went to Jazz AND street funk. Anything to keep my mind off of the raw emotions of what was happening. Then something hit me last night. As I struggled with the fact that, despite having the BEST friends in the whole world, no one understands this disease. Unless someone has cried all night out of fear, wanted to break every bottle of alcohol in every liquor store within 50 miles, or held onto someone so tight because you weren't sure if it would be the last, you don't understand. No one could possibly know the fear. My best friends, who I love with all my heart and soul, see this as black and white. You walk away. And shut the door. And never look back.

Because of this, I have stopped talking about a lot of my feelings, and a lot of my fear. I have stopped talking to most people about my plans, and when I'll be seeing him next. It's just easier to save myself from that discussion. But I hate being that person. I hate being alone in this. It's such a lonely disease. So, in keeping with my problem-solving personality, I decided to do something about it. I got to work this morning and searched for Al-Anon meetings in Boston. And found hundreds. It just so happened there was one in my neighborhood tonight. I wanted to drive down to Providence, but went to the meeting instead. It changed my life. The strength. The friendship. The acceptance. The non-judgment. It was amazing. I walked out of there with dozens of names and numbers of people I can call when I don't know how to deal, or when the pain gets too tough. People who told me I had so much courage to come tonight and speak. Parents. Spouses. Siblings. These people all knew the pain. The frustration. The anger. But they also know the joy. The hope. The love. I admire these people for their commitment to themselves, and their loved ones. I am grateful to them for the open arms they welcomed me with, and the inspirational words they offered me.

I walked out of there tonight with so much hope. Not necessarily hope that he will find sobriety (although this is always a hope, obviously), but a hope that I will continue to see my own strength, and find that courage even in the moments when it seems impossible. They helped me realize that if I made it this far, there's nowhere I can't go. And, thanks to my big heart, and the wonderful person I have been able to share it with, I will go to those places with so much more strength, courage, love, patience, and love than I ever thought possible.

...and that was just my first meeting!