So. It’s been awhile. Let me fill you in. The husband went to rehab for alcohol. He stayed 30 days. 30 days in which I learned how to do everything as a parent alone. How to pay every single bill. Alone. Deal with nightmares, anxiety, anger, and the words “I hate you” from our 8 year old. Alone. 30 days where I had to drive my boys 2 hours to see him for 1 1/2 hours and drive home 2 hours again.
It wasn’t a pleasant visit. I mean, did you think it was going to be? It is a REHAB center. For people who have addiction problems. Not really a fun place for 2 little boys. Or the woman who filed for divorce. We can just say it was tense. And ugly. And there were tears.
So while he was there, for you know, 30 days, I had the boys going to weekly therapy visits to help them with their anger, anxiety, and just learn how to cope. It was a lot. Not just financially, but emotionally. The 3 of us would come home physically drained.
But, don’t get me wrong. With all of this shit going on, it was actually, a really good summer. We spent almost everyday at the pool, where the boys became fantastic swimmers. I got a good tan. And the 3 of us became a really good team. The boys knew I loved them and wasn’t going anywhere. I took all the snuggled I could get. My mom kept them once a week for a sleepover, which gave me ME time and also let them know how much SHE loved them.
And, in the end, I ended up finding out who I really am. Who I have been shoving down for so long. I am happier and laugh more than I have in so many years. People keep telling me just how much more carefree I look. My backbone has gotten straighter and stronger and I just feel so much more like ME. There’s no more eggshells to walk on; no more ugly words or insults to go home to.
Is it perfect? Hell, no. I don’t ever want it perfect, because perfection isn’t real. It’s a work in progress, which is how life is supposed to be.