Faking it truly is exhausting, as Madyson said in a comment on another blog. I keep trying to act 'as if'. Because maybe, just maybe, they will stop acting like cranky two-year-olds and grow up and be financially responsible and think about the baby she is carrying and if they are using, stop, and certainly, both of them would stop drinking. It could happen, right?
I've acted 'as if' ever since they got out of prison and for a long time, they acted as if they had a clue too. Then they started just splintering right before our eyes. It wasn't really apparent until after the wedding, but the tension, the arguments (discussions he called them, with a bit of a smile), the financial woes.... the cracks just started spreading as the hits of life kept coming, and then some.
I am trying to tell myself repeatedly that my happiness is not (or should not be) solely based on their sobriety, or their productiveness, or their ability to treat each other with kindness.
Dammit, I am more than a MOTHER of one; I am ME, and I am a WIFE and I am a MOTHER to another, and I have FRIENDS that I can be a good friend to. Without even going into the fact that I'm an employer, a business owner, etc, just that first set of things means that being the mother of my precious addict is only 20% of that first sentence.
Did that even make sense?
But seriously, I need to start keeping the percentages a little more even. I am so much more than someone involved in this particular heartbreaking issue. For so long I have told her she is so much more than an addiction. My list of positive adjectives for her goes on and on. She is my precious, amazing daughter.
I'm (sometimes) pretty amazing too. I need to remember that. There is more to my life than her success or failure with heroin, with alcohol, with her job, or with her baby.
I am more than this. My life is full of more than this. I am trying to refocus my attention, and it is a slow process. I am angry and tired. I need to remind/convince myself that my fatigue should be the result of trying to squeeze in new adventures as I do cartwheels down the path into my sunset years..... I should not be exhausted because of repeated muscle strain from handwringing over her choices. My head can know that, but my heart is awfully stubborn.
I'm off to work on my cartwheels.... or at least, to listen to some music and paint a new birdhouse for my garden. :)