Mr. Scabs

I don't feel like myself today.  Sunday night's post was difficult to write.  Summer 2011 was the worst summer in my history.   Repelling deep into those pitch-black caverns from the past is dark and consuming.  I can feel the depression and anger that I held onto all those months ago trying to regain it's terrible strength.

As hard as it is for me to write, it's even more excruciating for Mr. Scabs to read.

Most of you know, but for those that don't, Mr. Scabs and I are, against all odds, still together.

It is nothing short of a miracle.

This is a story of pure love.  Not my love.  Not the love of my husband.  Not even the love of our children, but the love from the brother who gave His life for us.

This is a story I am blessed to tell.  This story begs to be told in a raw and sometime dark tone.  I'm in awe that you're reading and that you come back and read more.  I'm in awe that you take my hand and are willing to share this journey with me.  I'm in awe that you are my friend.

And because you are my friend, I want you to know something.  In a world that believes addicts rarely heal, there is hope.  It can happen for you.  All around me I see women who have healed from hard things.  Things even harder than this.  You are resilient and happy and full of kindness.

May 4, 2012

After lunch, I push my plate to the side, resting my chin in my hands.  Mr. Scab's blue eyes are clear and deep.  When he speaks, he looks me in the eyes, not the floor.  He stops and thinks before words come from his lips.  His hands, those hands I loved and then hated and am now allowing myself to love again, reach across to hold my palm in his.  He smiles, his eyes water and lips quiver.  This is real.

Silently I watch and listen,  he tells of his enormous pain and horrible regret for his awfulness.  For the wrongs against me and our children.  For his terrible exploitation of women.  For being lost.

"I love you.  I'm so sorry for the wicked things I did.   
Sorry that I ever justified it or thought it was ok.   
It's not ok.   
I love you and I'm fighting."

                                                                                                                        -Mr. Scabs

I love you too, Mr Scabs.