Ten minutes after putting it in the oven, I heard the most awful splattering...spattering...boiling? That made no sense. going out there to investigate...I see my beloved lid in at least 3 pieces, see a rivulet of water running toward the door (thus proving that my kitchen isn't level..big surprise) and brown things being washed out from under my stove. And pour on. And pour. So I call in the cavalry...JOSEPH!! HELP!!!!
Get the food switched to another pot, toss my pieces of pottery, clean clean clean. I get it pretty under control...and dinner was yummy.
No acknowledgement of this day, dinner, our conversation, or me. No conversation after dinner. Nothing. So after 3 hours I say "good night then" and no response.
Today is 3 years since God outed him. I made him a card acknowledging three years of being free from his addiction and left it for him to find this morning. I never thought we'd be here...so what can I say about the last three years--
I have learned I don't need to be angry all the time. Honestly, it's much harder to let loneliness and sadness and disappointment surface than to hide behind anger. It's much harder to allow tears to come and feel that vulnerable and uncomforted than it is to fume, rand and rave. But I have found that as I pour it out in prayer, I feel peace. I have learned to rely on my relationship with God, on prompts from the Holy Spirit, on forgiveness day by day. I have learned that Paul may never be healthy. May never choose to do the work needed, because "I don't want to work the rest of my life" and "this is too hard" and "I just want to live, Ger, I don't want to do all of this". And so here I sit, three years later, listening to more self pity (his words) each day, more excuses each week, or no conversation at all.
I have seen my kids be angrier than I've ever seen them...but hearing them say it wouldn't do any good to tell Paul how they feel, so they stuff it. I wish they wouldn't. Not because I want them to beat up on Paul, but because they need to get it out in a healthy way. I've seen their relationships with each other and both of us struggle under the wt. of these last three years, and some of them collapse and begin the rebuilding process. I've seen them grow up faster, make both good and horrible decisions in reaction to our marriage problems.
I'd love to put on a happy face today, but I'm not happy. I am thankful...for grace and peace and others in my life to fill the void that Paul has left in his hiding. But no matter how great those people are, they aren't a husband. And I'm beginning to accept that this is Paul will ever be...as heartbreaking as that is for me.