I Will Still Be Here – Detaching with Love with Hope

You can try to punch me in the face with your fists, but I will still be here.

You can nail me to the wall with your words, but I will still be here.

You can push me away with all your seemingly crazy behavior, but I will still be here.

You can cry and cry and cry about being misunderstood, but I will still be here.

 

I won’t let you crush me.  I won’t let you abuse me.  I won’t let you take me down with you, but I will still be here.

 

I understand your pain because I’ve lived it myself.  I know it’s not directed at me or about me.  I know it’s about you.  I understand that everything is against you and you feel worthless and at the same time worthy of so much more.  I understand that you want to feel better and not keep doing this to yourself and everyone around you.  I understand that you want what I have but also want me to go far away and leave you alone already.

I understand that what I feel about all of you in the throes of addiction is what people that loved me so much felt when I was drinking.  Powerless, distrusting, unsafe.

I’ve come to the other side.  And let me tell you, this side is not any fun.  As incredible as this sober life is, watching people crumble and crash and burn over and over and over again is not.  And yet, I will still be here.  Because it takes what it takes.  I know it did for me and I’ve watched the miracle happen in countless others.  We just have to be patient.  But we also never know when the last time will be.  So please, make it soon.  It hurts too fucking much to keep going through this with you.

The question is, do you want to feel better?  Do you want to feel?  Or are you done?  Because if you’re done, then we are talking about something altogether different.

I have seen the miracles happen.  I have watched with enormous respect as people many thought hopeless start to get it.  Start to do the work each day and as uncomfortable as it is, that’s all it really comes down to.   It’s wildly uncomfortable and while that really really sucks, you can get through it.  I have all the hope in the world for you.

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We make a choice each day to walk through the uncomfortable.  And we do it together.  Life is never comfortable, at least not for me.  But at least today it’s more manageable.  We can walk through it without so much fear because we are more sure of our place.  Of our standing.  Of our worth.

It is so much better on this side, I promise you.  As bad as it feels at first when all the feelings pour out that you’ve been avoiding forever, it gets better.  If you can just keep it together for a little while.  When you blow your life up, what can be expected?  You get to create what you want your life to be.  Within reason, you decide who you will be.  You are  in more control now and you get to decide how you handle your shit.  And that feels really really good.  Like, phenomenally good.  You have choices.

I am terrified of getting that phone call.  Again.  I’ve lost too many people to this brutal disease.   But I also have a life I fight really hard to keep each and every day.  So we find a balance.  I fight for you and you choose to fight for yourself.  And THEN you can fight for the next.

So.  I am pulling back.  I am reeling it in.  Loving an addict is an awful lot like raising children.  You want so much for them but you have to realize that you really have very little control over what happens.  So I just love and hope.  Hard.

I can’t make you care if you don’t.  I can’t make you see your worth if you aren’t ready. But you are so so worthy.  And so many of us believe in you.

I will still be here.

When you are ready.  When you are willing.  When you are done.

I will still be here.  Loving you.  Always.

But until that day, I need to protect myself too.  I can only help people that want to be helped.  I am detaching with love and hope.  I will still be here. Always.

 

See also:

Reaching for Help

What it Feels Like to be an Alcoholic

Addicts will always die

Being sober and taking a drink is not the end

10 Ways Toddlers are Just Like Tiny Alcoholics

 

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