An ugly bed-mate
Bjork and a polar bear

Follow the story.
Read the previous entry here.

I woke with an ugly bed-mate.

He wasn't there when I closed my eyes and pushed off peacefully into dreamland.
During the night he snuck into my room, cozying up next to me and I felt his unmistakable gnarled hands as the sunrise peeked through my windows.  Before I had a chance to breathe Rage had hijacked me.

The unanswered questions and intolerable pain come flooding back.  Torturing my core.

Hunched over the bathroom sink gagging.  His lies making me physically ill.

I cannot possibly fathom how someone can feel so entitled, so indulgent.  We all make mistakes, I get that.  No one is born knowing all things, I get that.  But at some point during all your mistakes and wrong turns don't you say to yourself, "This is wrong.  I'm destroying life.  I need to make changes today.  I need to salvage those I love."

I've made mistakes.  Big mistakes.  I've hurt those I love.  And I remember my moments of lucidity.  The times I knew I needed to change things immediately!  The path I was on was dangerous and could destroy those I love.  I made difficult changes because I love them.

I cannot understand this level of deception, of disregard for those you love.  Addiction and compulsive behavior are lost to me.  I haven't been able to grasp the loss of freedom that comes with such a serious illness.  How can one lose control over their actions?

So many of us muffle screams of "WHHHYYYYY???!!!" into our clenched fists, empty cars and bitten pillows!  Seems this questions can never be satisfied.

Even in the midst of my relationship with Rage I can see that my husband is sick.  He's a sad, lonely, broken version of himself.  Is he lost in some very deep self-loathing?  Playing poker with self-destruction?  Is his mind and heart truly so black and lost that he cannot see us?

This is where I release Rage as my companion and take up friendship with Compassion.