Thursday, March 09, 2006

Rattle and Hum

That title is actually a reference to my thermos-that-isn't-a-Thermos: I once again dropped my teaspoon into it this morning while putting in my honey, so the spoon rattles around when the ttiaT is empty.

I've decided that either I'm already a bodhisattva and just don't know it, or else I really fucked up bigtime in some previous lives and am working off some seriously bad karma in this life.

I'm not sure where to begin; I haven't yet put this all into any kind of order, so the linearity, the way we tell a story when we know what happened next, simply isn't there. The first thing to tell you is that, for the past two months, I went to my new job, stood on my feet all day (you regular readers know what I've been doing) for $8.50 an hour, in pursuit of my dreams--and then came home to have someone vomit on my shoes. Every fucking day. There were moments of respite, of course, when I saw a friend or Craw was out of town (or both), but even those moments could be interrupted any time by Craw, calling me on the phone and vomiting long-distance.

I offered up the blogspace to him yesterday (though he can't post independent of me), and I will continue to offer him the opportunity to say stuff, if only because it might be helpful for someone else in his situation.

The second thing to tell you is that Craw violated my privacy about three weeks ago, pretty dramatically. He confessed immediately (after yet more dramatic phone calls), so, of course, he wants bonus points for telling a truth that I might not have discovered. Since he used what he found in the course of the violation as a verbal weapon in one of our recent "discussions," I suspect I would have guessed sooner or later anyway, but there you have it.

The third thing to tell you will take a little longer. When Craw and I met, as you might already have figured out from his tale, he was married to the Kid's mother. Since Craw and I met under rather, um, casual circumstances that I will not detail here, it was not immediately relevant that I know that he was married; he spoke of his wife as his "girlfriend." (Truthfully, he could have told me he was married and it wouldn't have mattered much.) It became apparent that Craw liked me, a lot, and, truth be told, I liked him, too. He's smart, and funny, for two things, and he told me right up front that he's a recovering alcoholic, so I figured he was probably honest, too; I knew from my work with the junkies and alcoholics that honesty was the most important aspect of sobriety, so someone who had seven years of sobriety was probably pretty good at the honesty thing.

Yeah, right.

Anyway, after about six weeks of increasingly intense interactions, it became clear that something was happening between us--but then he called me at work one day, right after a very intense conversation the night before about how we could maybe get serious, to tell me his supposedly ex-girlfriend was pregnant. We continued to talk--I wondered why they thought a kid was going to save their obviously troubled relationship; I wondered how he and she felt about abortion. He told me he'd gone to the doctor with her, seen the ultrasound (I believe he told me it was a girl, but I might be misremembering that one), etc. He went off to a nearby city where his mother and sister live, and he came to my place on the way home to break up with me. He couldn't leave his pregnant girlfriend, he said. Given what he'd said about how bad their relationship had gotten, I didn't think that was a smart move, and I said that, but there wasn't much else I could do. Nevertheless, we continued to talk, all through the Christmas holidays. I won't bore you with what I was going through, but it wasn't all that much fun. We planned to meet in early January, one Sunday. He knew I left at about 7:45, and he called me before that to cancel--because his girlfriend had had a miscarriage. She was hospitalized, etc., but would probably be fine. Days later, she came back to his/their place, which puzzled me, but whatever.

About two weeks after that, we went out to dinner, at his insistence. When we got back to my place, he told me that his girlfriend was actually his wife. And that he had a son. Readers, I should have dumped his sorry ass right then. Why didn't I? Well, as noted, we had met under casual circumstances where the truth wasn't necessarily relevant (or so I thought), and then things happened very quickly. We moved on, blah blah blah. (There were more lies about these things--the vacation to Florida, for example--that I found out over the years.)

Fast forward (through many things) to this week. When Craw informs me that he broke up with me because he wanted some space/time to think about what he wanted to do. His wife had mentioned that she'd missed her period, but she was extremely irregular, so that wasn't so unusual. There was no ultrasound. There was no doctor's appointment. He broke up with me so he could figure out what he wanted--without bothering to involve any of the other people's wants in that equation, which is typical alcoholic behavior. She had a heavy period, one that might very well have been a miscarriage, but I doubt there was a hospitalization in there. In other words, when he supposedly came clean all those years ago, he was still fucking lying to me.

The fourth thing is that you all know my position on religion, in general. If other people want it, fine, but it's not for me. The Kid goes to Catholic school--which is also fine, because I'm not paying for it. Or so I thought. For the past year and a half, Craw has been paying the Kid's tuition, without telling me. While I drained my savings paying for a wedding, paying rent, paying for the car repairs (i.e., joint expenses). In other words, in addition to all those lies he told me before (and I haven't bothered to list them all), and despite all of the issues we've had over money (which I won't detail here), he's been lying to me, about a significant chunk of money, for a year and a half.

Furious doesn't begin to describe what I'm feeling.

I can't let myself dwell on it, however: I make $8.50 an hour and I've drained my savings (did I mention that?), so moving out isn't something I could do. I have two other concerns in that realm, as well. First, I want to spare the Kid as much as possible--for example, he was apparently extremely happy that we'd all get to eat dinner together tonight (Craw and I have him for three nights before Craw goes out of town). He'll have to know something sooner or later, but I see no reason to dump it on him now. If we're going to continue to live together for the time being, the Kid doesn't have to know the details now. Second, and this is the one that is the challenge for me now, I'm trying to find the compassion that Craw needs. I know--because I've been living it--that he's in a bad (though improving) place right now. The thing with addicts is that it's always all about them--but, especially in the beginning of recovery, it kind of has to be.

So I go to work, make my croissants, talk to my friends, try to find ways to be kind to Craw without letting him continue to vomit on me. And the Divine Miss M was right--you DO gotta have friends, and I have some damned good ones. Which is extremely helpful right now.


Blogger landismom said...

I'm glad to hear that you have some good friends to help you get through this, and I'm happy that you posted your side of this story. And I reiterate my sentiment from yesterday.

7:05 PM  

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