Monday, August 25, 2008

Too late for I'm sorry

I feel like I've been through this before. Where I want to have my emotions, my fears, my pain validated. For the past year. For loving unselfishly. For living through addiction. For surviving.

The past year saw tears and pain; anger and sadness; frustration and humility. It has created chaos and destroyed peace. It has left me lonely. And yet made me strong. I used to pray that I would find closure. For me, that meant one small moment of clarity. Of gratitude. For what I sacrificed. For my patience. For not judging. But, of course, these moments rarely happen in addiction. After all, if addicts experienced these moments of clarity, recovery would have much higher success rates. And it doesn't. Addiction is the opposite of clarity. Realizing this, I accepted that the past year was mine alone. I was the only casualty. I had to accept it as a loss. That it would only exist in my mind. My memory.

I was sitting at work the other day, smiling from ear to ear, awaiting a text message from the new adorable boy I'm crushin on, when my phone lights up. My heart skips a beat, wondering what wonderful message "J" is sending me now. I go to my text messages only to find a number without a name. A Rhode Island number. It reads: "I'm sorry for the way I treated you while we were together, and that you never got to know the real me." My heart stopped. What the hell had brought this on? Why now? Why this morning? Because I'm curious, I ask that exact question. Through a series of text messages and one awkward phone call, I learn that he's been diagnosed with a failing liver. This diagnosis has left him re-evaluating his life, and the people he's hurt along the way. Um, hurt doesn't even begin to describe it. And, a text message apology? Seriously? That works well if you've accidentally walked off with a person's pen. Or forgot to say good-bye. Not when you've sucked the life out of someone.

I have to interrupt for a minute. I know there's a history here, and that history and comfort sometimes cause us to make decisions we wouldn't normally make. Or decisions we know are wrong. But, I don't make decisions for comfort anymore. I make decisions for me. And happiness. The entire time I was talking to him, I only had one thought. I want to be happy. I want freedom. From the past. I want to see where this goes with "J" - without anything standing in the way.

He invited me to have lunch this past weekend, so I could meet the "new" him. I graciously declined, explaining that although I am grateful for the apology, I have moved on. And will continue to move on. Because after all the pain and obstacles, I made it. To the other side. And happiness is a sweet, sweet victory. And I don't like to lose, so I think I'll stay right here. And take whatever this journey brings.

Looking forward, it appears as though it's gonna be an incredible ride...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Honestly, I'm amazed that you had the will power to say no! absolutely incredible. I don't think I could have nor would have done the same thing, but you're right, it was the best decision for you. Still amazed at how strong you've become over the years!