Fear

Jesus has been amazing in maintaining his sobriety from heroin. He’s done a better job than I ever expected him to do. After I gave him the ultimatum at the end of November that he stops using or he loses me, his heroin addiction has been a non-existent worry. He got a Suboxone prescription and was doing great. I know that it’s never that simple, but I wanted to believe it would be that simple. I wanted to believe that our case would be different, that he’d be able to just decide to stop using and we’d never have to worry about it again. To put it simply, I was willingly living in my ignorant bliss.

And so, when he confessed to me the other night that he’d slipped up a couple weeks ago, I felt like I’d been blindsided. I hadn’t seen it coming. We just moved in together. I’m preparing to spend my life with this man. But I should have seen it coming. I work with addicts on a daily basis. It’s my job. But then again, this isn’t my job. This is my life.

He said that he had been afraid to tell me because he thought I’d be angry. But I’m not angry. He said that he had been afraid to tell me because he thought I’d be disappointed. But I’m not disappointed. I’m fucking scared. I’m scared because I just moved in with this man. I’m scared because I plan on marrying this man. I’m scared because I love this man, and I don’t want to lose him to this drug.

When I asked him why he stopped using, he said because of me. He didn’t want to lose me. That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear that he stopped because he realized that he was done with the shit. I wanted to hear that he stopped because he didn’t like the way it made him feel. I don’t want to be the reason that he stops using, because I worry then that it won’t last. That when we have problems, he’ll have no reason to abstain anymore. I worry that it means that he’s not really done with it, that he still has another run in him.

But I have to acknowledge the fact that he came clean to me. He told me. He only used for a few days before stopping. And I’m grateful for those things. And at the same time, I’m angry that he hid it from me for two weeks, letting me move in with him right after he’d relapsed. I feel like that is something I have the right to be aware of so that I can be fully prepared to make the huge decision I was about to make. I’m angry that he didn’t call me when he was about to use, so that we could talk about it and maybe he would have stopped himself. There are so many things going through my head, and I’m just trying to process them all.

I can work with someone that is willing to be upfront and honest with me about his addiction and his slip ups. We can work, and I know that. We will work, and I believe that. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m fucking scared.