On the Subject of Kids

Can I be resentful of the time that he is in rehab? Is it normal for me to be a little angry that he has all this time to himself and I have none? I feel like I am ungrateful for even implicating that I don't want to spend time with my kids. Even worse, that I am making light of his dire situation. In that codependent book she tells me to take time for me. Well, I am not receiving any government assistance, no child support, not a rich relative in sight and the "sugar daddy" line isn't forming. I am angry and I want to call his caseworker and cuss her out and tell her that we are coming there. Ugh. Anyone else gone through this? I used to be angry about rehabs in the past. He was in one once, a couple of years ago. On the first family visit I am greeted by the most atrocious woman ever. She proceeds to tell me what a great guy my husband is. Oh. I didn't get out of the car for about 20 minutes. I hadn't been that infuriated ever. I HATED him that day. I was angry. Angry that I couldn't help him. Isn't that insane? I was mad that he would get help for himself, not for me! I am a hopeless romantic. It is a disease that I suffer because my stepmom red those romance novels and in highschool I picked one up. What a curse! No man can live up to that. Now that I understand the disease more I can make sense of our past. I am no pro, I will admit, but I sure am a lot closer now that I surrendered. The family visits here don't start until 90 days so I have another 30 to go. It is the longest that we have ever been away from eachother. Even the day the divorce was final he was living with me and we had sex that night. I know, dysfunctional. But hey, there isn't a rule book here. No guides. Only ideas. And who makes those up anyways? Mostly people that haven't experienced it. They cannot know anymore than I can know what C goes through on a daily basis. I cannot endure his pain of being away from his children. I cannot endure the agony of how much he must miss me (hee, hee, the romantic emerges!) or how badly he wants to watch Sopranos. He knows it is the last season and we love that show. I know that he has to bring up the crappy childhood he had and relive the moments of physcial abuse he suffered. Or how I made him less of a man and how he made me less of a woman. I know that I can forgive it. There was a time that I would have laughed that off. Forgive! Sh@# no!! I will remind him daily. I have the clarity now of the first step though. I used to leave the al-anon meetings (yes I know there is nar-anon but there isn't one meeting in my area!) so angry at those women. Very few meetings had men. I was so mad when I got home. It was a will power choice! I choose not to. He can. Then I messed up and went to a regular AA meeting. I was on fire! How dare those people call themselves that. They are the scourge of humantiy. But I love my husband (I still call him that) and he wasn't that. He was not those things. Eventually becuase of using and my rage and anger and hurt we became those things. I was a saint, of course. I mean, look at all I did! He was the devil. After I had a final copy of the divorce and we moved back home (whole other story) and I bought my house he really spiraled quick. I couldn't deal with it. He called me, begging me for $50 and then he would disappear forever. I wouldn't give it to him. He was living on the street. He broke into my home and stole for crack. He ran away for a month out of state. He hitchhiked and nearly died a few times. I let go. I watched the HBO series on Addiction. It was like a sign from God. I needed it, I asked for it and I got it. I watched them over and over. It made sense. I wasn't mad. I was really sad. Oh my, I was sad. I didn't think about him all of the time. Truthfully I was glad that he was gone. I never thought he would get better. I didn't want to see him die. I didn't want the kids to either. To his credit, despite his addiction, he is a great father. No, it isn't an oxymoron. He never took them with him. He never used around them or when he had them without me. He waited. He waited until I had them or I was around and then he would slink away and use and degrade himself until he was nothing. And I helped him. I helped him do everything but smoke it, snort it or whatever he did. I allowed him food, shelter, excitement, sex (which I must say was never lacking), children, education, cars, clothes, games, toys, cable, internet, electricity, water, and on. How was I, the one that hated his addiction the most, his worst enemy? I struggled with that for about 2 years. I guess I needed to hit bottom too. And I did, the day he did. The day he kicked in the front door. My life changed that day. And when I saw the series it was a sign. He called me the day after I psychoed out on the HBO thing. He was coming to turn hisself in. I was grateful. He was alive and was going to do the right thing. He knew what he did and was ready to atone for it. And I had pressed charges. He called from our local precinct and asked me why I lied about having a warrant. I talked to the seargent in charge. There was no warrant!! Are you kidding me?!? So I picked him up. He spent a day here with the kids and we had an interview at a free treatment facility. It is a 2 year in patient place but it works. It works better than any of the other 3 he has been to. They don't treat with drugs, they treat with spirituality. He needed that. Not another pill (pills are what started it all Fu*#ing Vicodin). He has been there since. He looks like the allergy commercials when they lift off the film. I am so happy for him. He gets to visit the kids on Sundays for four hours. They love that. I receive letters from him and speak with his counselor. I have sought out information and help for my own issues. Even if we don't work out (which bums me, but I have to be realistic) then I know he will be there for the kids. But I am still pulling for the second wedding! ; )