I remembered it… though at first I wished I hadn’t. I remember when Jason walked In the back door and I was sitting on the couch waiting for him, wearing a cute little sexy farm girl outfit. He looked right at me and said something like, oh look whose all dressed up. Guess I know what she wants. And walked right through the room and carried on his way.
I remember that was the last time I put myself out there to connect with him. I couldn’t handle anymore rejection. That moment hurt me deeply.
I’m just realizing I’ve never resolved that moment. I’m going to do that now. I won’t pack this away and carry it any longer.
I was folding a little sexy something and I realized my internal response was directly related to that moment. It just came up in a well of tears.
I loved him. I wanted to touch him and hold him and help him and guide him to wellness. I wanted him to feel soft skin and warm breath and thought we might hold each other tight. He wouldn’t let me do that anymore. He couldn’t do that anymore.
I realize now that he was a new heroin user at that time. It was about the worst it ever got for us at that time. It was the beginning of the end I think. I went to therapy to find a path through my anger.
I was mad everyday. There was so much pain. That was the summer I couldn’t speak his name. The summer I called him dude. He once asked why and I said it was because he didn’t act like my husband, friend, lover or even someone who liked me. I couldn’t speak his name. I was so so angry. Therapy quickly helped me find what I needed.
I now know he had started his conscious path that led him to his final destination. It was then I started to find a safe place to hunker down and hold steady until I could figure out what to do.
I was abandoned by him, my husband, my friend. I was dependent for the first time as an adult and he betrayed my trust.
His spirit left me long before it left his body. Sifting through his belongings with his daughter, I realize it was even longer than I let myself believe.
I found an old note. Could have been written the year he died. It was about my fears and hurts and hopes. My concerns about his behaviors. It was dated a decade before his death. 7 years before heroin. Things were not right for a long time.
It’s amazing what can be ignored in the face of love and fear of loss. I feared losing him. I feared he would walk away. I feared his abandonment and yet ironically he didn’t have to leave to abandon me.
I am learning from this.
I am continuing to grow and let go.
I am continuing to love and be loved.
I am aware.
I am letting go of the pain that this memory carries, this moment helped ready me for where I am today.
I am stronger than hurtful words… anyone’s.