Kicked to the curb...part 2
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Read the previous entry here.

April 2011

He looks different.   His face looks vulnerable and soft.  Is that sorrow I see in his eyes?  Or does he just miss the comforts of his home?

He calls and comes by almost everyday.  I'm surprised.  I thought he would dive headfirst into a steamy pit of hookers only coming up for air and the occasional pb&j sandwich.  This is his chance to be free.  Go do whatever he wants.  Instead he's here.  I doesn't bother me and it benefits the kids.  If I tell him "no" he respects me and doesn't come over.  I still enjoy the peace of his absence.

He's talking to me.  He cries and begs and says how sorry and stupid he is.  I like this. It feels good to be apologized to and to feel his remorse.  Is it genuine?  I doubt it.  It sucks to get caught at doing something so horrific.  He might be mostly sorry he got caught.  It's his Hell. One of these conversations was the "Eat My Scab" conversation, read it here.

They say, and addict needs pain.  They need to hit bottom.  This was once a man I respected and loved and naturally out of compassion I would soften those blows.  Now, I sit, watch and listen, offering no comfort, no safe landing.

Taking advantage of his vulnerability I ask all the unanswered questions.  Who? Why? When? How?  All the gory details of his fall to disgraced double-timing cheater.  He wrote out a list and timeline.  It's a harsh reality to face; the depth of his duality, but there is also a calming feeling to this transparency.  I've found that my mind is a tad bit pervy and imaginative.  I seem to take everything to extremes and my mind plagues me.  The truth of the details put a stop to the ever expanding hallucinations in my mind.

Realizing your spouse has major issues with fidelity and sex open all sorts of ugly doors.  My mind made the jump from hookers and prostitutes to child molester.  I interrogated and dug until I was satisfied that he'd never indulged in child porn or sex with underage women.  The idea paralyzed me.  Following through I opened conversations with my daughter and her friends about touching.  I pray they'd feel safe confiding in me.