In my deepest of dark moments, I still can see a bare speck
of light. But if I blink or look away when I look again, the speck is gone. It
alternates that way – deep black with the light and then nothing but black. I
wonder if it will ever be light with bit of black so I keep looking.
Over the past few months, while I’ve been rather silent, I
thought about retiring this blog and all things about alcoholism. I thought
about just letting it go. There’s so much that I’ve wanted to do and have not
accomplished. There’s so much that needs to be done without the time or money
to do it.
This journey of the blog has been long and hard. I keep
going by putting one foot in front of the other but it’s like walking through
quicksand. I take breaks. I try to shift my focus. But, my status as an
alcoholic’s wife and caregiver are still there – almost haunting me.
I find myself so angry with anyone claiming to be an
alcoholic that I have no words for them. The fact remains that the alcoholic
was not the one that was meant to receive the most advantage from my blog. I
wanted to give my support to people just like me – a non-alcoholic faced with
caregiving an alcoholic. Doesn’t matter how we got here. It matters that we are
here and in need of some information, encouragement, support or just some plain
truth.
The whole point was that we would get better and eventually
move on from the world of alcoholism to a world ruled only by you. It’s not
easy and often nearly impossible under circumstances beyond your control. No
matter. I’m here and taking care of a sober alcoholic who is still in denial
and has all those ugly alcoholic traits like narcissism and altered memories.
There are times when it can be humorous if you’re in a state
of mind when you can let humor into your thoughts.
For example, Riley was reminiscing and trying to remember
where he had worked and who his workmates were. He kept thinking I was working
in the same place as he was. But I never did. He asked me why didn’t I remember
the cute little typist who was assigned to typing his tech manuals. I was
patient (well… I tried to be patient) explaining that I never worked there.
When he started trying to name off all the women he slept with at each work
place, I wanted to throw the TV at him. The final straw was him telling that
the cute little typist could F*** all night long. I left the room.
That could have had a humorous little slant to it rather
than generating irritation. After I left the room, I called Carrot and told her
what had just happened. She burst into belly-aching laughter. She then told me
how I could have played into it and said things that would have turned things
from hurtful to humorous.
I could have claimed to be that cute little typists or all
of the women whose name he could not remember. I could have made up stories
about being in his office and create scenarios that would have baffled him. By
the time we finished talking about it, I was also rolling on the floor. I’m
thankful to have someone in my life who always makes me laugh.
A follower told me that my posts recently had turned dark.
I’ve been going through a dark time without much of a speck of light. There’s
nothing to do but keep trying to find some kind of humor which will keep the
light shining. Even if the light is far off in a distant black hole, I must
keep encouraging it to glow. Otherwise, it might burn out forever.
