Don’t Love Me to Death

I felt the urge to write Katie today.

I took my usual 20 minute mid-morning walk down the Guadalupe trail—squirrels were shooting across the pathway, the sun was shining and the random smell of homeless people pee-pee wafted through the air.

Yesterday was a rough one at work, and some of the emotional remnants lingered within.  I dug my hands deep into my pocket, kept my head down, and wished I could walk home instead of going back to my cubicle.  Thankfully I don’t have to work tomorrow—I wrote this week off on Wednesday afternoon, and decided I won’t be professionally productive again until Monday morning.

As I was on my overly dramatic, “woe is me” walk—I suddenly began to think of Katie.  When I feel down, or negative in anyway, which is infrequent since I stopped drinking, I think of the day Katie walked out on me.  I think of what I looked and felt like—how I acted, and the way I treated her during the last 12 months we lived together.  I think about how sick I made myself, and how that self induced sickness infected Katie too.  I was an emotional parasite.

I think of her face—her trembling upper lip and the way she would pucker-up when she got angry.  I think of her crying.  I think of her giving me every last opportunity to change—and I will never forget the look in her eyes and the sadness in her voice when she finally realized it was over.  When she finally realized that the only way to save me and herself was to leave, and never look back.

She understood that sometimes even a selfless person has to make a decision, that to them, feels selfish.  But it’s not selfish at all—it’s simply the right thing to do.

Would I have changed if she stayed?  Yes—but only temporarily, until I realized I can do whatever I want and my biggest enabler will always stay by my side, until the day I die, or the day she progresses from the brink of insanity to complete madness.

Alcoholics and addicts tend to destroy everything in their path, and consistently remain oblivious to the emotional distress they impose onto others…onto the people they love.  For, the only people who remain by your side during the darkest moments are those who genuinely love you—but even the strongest love has boundaries and breaking points.  I broke everything—and have been trying to pick up the pieces ever since.

I will never feel complete until Katie forgives me—and if I remain incomplete forever, the only person responsible is me.

I used to think about her every minute of every-day.  Then gradually, I thought of her less.  But, never will I forget the person who changed my life forever—even if now I only remember in times of sorrow.

I thought about writing Katie today—but I have to let the urge pass.  I don’t want to remind her of the pain I caused.  She decided not to love me to death, and her strength exposed who I really was.  A selfish, depressed drunk who had every reason to be happy yet focused on everything that made him sad.

I am not that person today—but I was reminded that in order to never become that person again, I can’t ever forget.

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