I Co-Wrote A Book – Part 3

So, as I was writing my chapter for the book “Dear Lord, I Married The Wrong Person – HER STORY“, I had a chance to reflect on the turmoil I had actually gone through with that man. I remembered how I KNEW he was lying about doing drugs and sleeping with other women to get drugs, but he would come home after two or three days and sweet talk me and I would let him back in – to live like everything was ok.

I remembered how this man would look me in my face and convince ME that the reason he was on drugs was MY FAULT. Get this: HE WAS ON DRUGS BEFORE I EVER MET HIM!! But because I didn’t want him to leave me, I allowed him to tell me that it was my fault and I found myself apologizing to him for making him so miserable that he wanted and needed to do drugs.

I also remembered how he used to steal my money. I would go to work while he sat home. I worked long hours every day. While I was at work, he was scheming on how to get my money. I would hide the money in various locations in the house and he would find it. I don’t til this day, know how he would find the money, but he did. When he would steal it, I would ask him why and he told me HE HAD TO STEAL it because I wouldn’t GIVE IT to him.

See, I was his enabler. I was co-dependent. I was so afraid of rejection or abandonment that I put up with his crap. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want another failed relationship. Why can’t I just be happy? Why can’t my man love me enough to leave the drugs alone? Wasn’t I good enough? Wasn’t I worth loving? I couldn’t bear the thought of not being woman enough to keep a man, even a drug-addicted man. Darn!!! I MUST BE ugly, not good for anything. I MUST BE worthless and undeserving of love.

So against my better judgment, I stayed with him. I tried to trick him into going to rehab. I tried to bribe him into rehab. I even tried to get him to go to marriage counselling with me but he would not budge. I felt defeated. I felt like a loser. This just made me feel worse about myself. This just made me rehearse the words I had heard as a child: “You’re worthless. You’ll never be anything. Nobody in their right mind will ever want you. You’re a foster child and foster children are no good”. I thought, “maybe they were right”.

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