November 4th was my husbands 1 year anniversary with sobriety.
He was all ready to celebrate his hard work and dedication to making his life, our life better.
But I was not in the mood to celebrate. Sure, I told him “nice work” or whatever.
But that about summed it up.
He was ready to celebrate the choice he made a year ago to change his life before he died.
I was ready to be hateful all day as I recalled that a year ago was nothing for me to celebrate – home in a new town, alone, no way to pay the bills, no way to talk to him, and after the fight the previous night, I was pretty sure my marriage was over, and now he was thousands of miles away in rehab while the kids cried sure that their life was crumbling once again.
It’s not a day I wanted to celebrate.
And since he’s been back, he’s been gone 3-4 nights a week “rehabbing” rendering me a widow to recovery.
This is where if I had a best friend she might say something like “You bitter old bitch, self centered much?”
I feel so guilty it’s hard to even type this out.
In the past year his life change has been overwhelmingly noticable. If you can’t tell it’s changed him on the inside by his calm, patient demeanor, his loving ways, his dedication to the program, his prayers, then you can tell it on the outside, his eyes are brighter, white and not yellow, his gaze isn’t distant, his skin is healthy, he’s made a 100% life change.
It’s not about the fact that we had to reach the very mucky bottom of our relationship before it made the turn, it’s not about what we had to go through, or the things we said to each other or all the hurt that was wrapped up in that stupid beer bottle – that’s not what he was celebrating.
It’s about the fact that even at the lowest of lows, he had the strength and the determination to pull himself away from his grim future and that I chose to stick around and support him.
It’s time to get the hell over it, Brandy.
So today, four days after his soberversary, I’m admitting my ignorance, begging his forgiveness for my resentful ways. Realizing I missed out on one of the best reasons to celebrate that we may have ever had together.
Bald Lover, you are my rock.
Happy one year, and four days.
I suck, you know that, and still you’re here.