If you’ve been following my recent posts, chances are you expect this post to be about J, or addicts in general, and all the promises they make but seldom (if ever) keep. Wrong. I’m trying to make a change in me today.  I’ve spent a lot of time lately reading the writings of others who have been down this road before me, particularly Ron over at An Addict In Our Son’s Bedroom. I am amazed at the strength this family has had to muster over the last few years. A Google search took me to their site and after reading one post, I followed the archives back all the way to the beginning. I’ve been reading for a few days now and am still over a year from the present… and I’ve fought the urge to skip ahead. There’s something very comforting about reading their story; there’s also something very sad about it.

But, Ron is a good man. I can tell from the way he shoots straight in his writing. I am not a parent. I am not a man. But I really identify with him in many ways, aside from loving an addict of my own. Ron has admitted he tends to speak bluntly, which sometimes gets him into trouble. He is a control freak and a “fixer.” He is open to different opinions than his own and is full of compassion for others who are fighting this fight. The biggest thing I have taken away from Ron’s writing so far is that I have to recognize where I need work. I can’t fix my addict. I can’t negotiate his sobriety. If I choose to to live a life free from the drama and chaos addiction brings, I must make this clear and then leave it to J to do the work. And I must take care of myself. I have lost too many days that I can never get back and at least one dream that can now never be.

In Dear J: It’s Your Turn, I talked a lot about my wants and needs and how I have asked my husband to consider these things and use them as motivation to continue on the right path. Yes, I asked him to stay clean this time because I need him to. But the letter, and the request, were more an exercise in standing up for myself than anything else. This was an important first step for me. And now I’m taking the second one… or planning it anyway.

I haven’t been able to talk with J much lately. Phone calls from prison are ridiculously expensive (another rant for another day) and money is tight right now. The first time he was locked up, I wrote a song about feeling like “half a whole” without him. It was true then, when our relationship was new and still blooming, and it’s true now. The upside, though, is I’ve had more time alone with my thoughts… more time to read of other families’ struggles, successes and failures… more time to figure out what I need to change about myself for both of us to succeed.

A little background: J is serving time on a charge from November of 2010. We only went to court on it last summer and in September he turned himself in to begin serving his time. The sentencing judge, however, commended J on the obvious changes in his life. Almost three years had passed with no new charges so the judge told us he would release J on community corrections soon but he felt it was important for him to be reminded what loss of freedom felt like. He was released in January, technically still property of the state of Alabama. We had a long talk (and a good one) that night. I told him clearly that if he was sent back to prison because of drug use, I would not send him a dime while he was there… I would visit and I would do my best to keep time on the prepaid phone account so that we could talk, but I would not give him money for store. Period. April 24 his release was revoked due to a failed urine test.

And so, he has been gone over a month and he has not asked for money. He did ask for shoes, which I bought since he was wearing work boots when he was picked up and the county had put him in a pair of sneakers from the lost and found at the jail. But this weekend he called and said he was hungry. And miserable. And he needed some money to buy snacks and smokes. I caved. The first time he asked, I caved. What is wrong with me? Why is it so hard to just say NO?! And I get livid with him for not saying no to his drugs? Whoa. Hello, Pot? This is Kim. You’re black.

And then I was angry with him for asking. I’m the one out here working, paying all our bills, keeping our home together while he is doing what? Doesn’t matter. That was my call and I made the wrong one. Why should he believe anything I say to him if I don’t stick to it? Is it enabling? Codependency? I’m still educating myself on those terms but I am realizing, in spite of knowing all his tricks, I still may have hindered more than I have helped.

It won’t be easy to say no. It won’t feel natural or right or kind for a while. But this is what I have to do… not the not sending money, specifically… but meaning what I say. He is weak on this front so I have to be strong. What he needs, what we both need, is for me to do what I know is right. In the long run we will both be better for it and, eventually, he will be strong enough to be strong for me again.

Wish me luck.