And the Hits Keep On Coming
AUGUST 21, 2017
"Pray for your enemies," but I'm not sure he is my enemy.
He was my closest companion, and he evidently tried to have me killed several times.
But he doesn't anymore.
It's confusing.
I'm clean & sober, always have been, maybe because being high or drunk feels boring to me.
Being drunk or high takes forever to wear off.
How can they say it's fun? How does he find peace in it?
"...Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."
But what is forgiveness? I forgive, but his are hits that keep on coming.
He was under the influence of drugs and alcohol.
Does that count?
A disease? But he loved that way of life. He chose it. Then he was stuck in it.
He loved his druggie friends.
And he hid it well -- he had a "high tolerance" for drugs & alcohol.
High tolerance.
Did I have a high tolerance for his crap?
I felt it wouldn't sink into me.
I knew I wasn't stupid, and nobody else told me I was crazy.
As I got closer to figuring out the details of his addictions, the crazier he said I was.
The more he wanted me dead. I see that now.
He & I seemed to share the same idea of how much pride to have. A lot of people don't.
How much self-respect. How much duty toward others.
He would help stranded motorists whenever we'd spot somebody with car trouble.
Now I wonder if some of those stranded motorists were drug dealers.
One time he came back to the car and said, "That isn't who I thought it was."
I said, "What? I thought we were helping a stranger. Is everything okay?"
"Yes. I'm changing their tire."
"Who did you think it was?"
But he never answered questions like that.
Our dads were in the same line of work, and our moms stayed home but helped our dads with their jobs.
His mom was like my dad.
My mom was like his dad.
But none of our parents were born under the same astrological sign. Is that the difference?
Aquarius, Aries, Scorpio, Sagittarius.
I had one brother, he had three.
No sisters. Nobody to talk to much.
It was/is impossible to shield our kids from it, but they don't want to talk about it.
He started drinking and using drugs by age 15. Maybe years earlier.
It is now 50 years later.
I used to worry that druggies die young, that they never get old enough for Medicare.
Then he stopped. As a teenager. And it seemed like he stopped. He said he had stopped.
But he kept sneaking drugs? He says now he never stopped.
So his emotional age is 15 or younger? How can that be?
And how can addicts say that being clean & sober feels boring to them?
It sure doesn't feel boring. It feels pretty nice, when I'm not around an addict.
It feels busy and pressured sometimes; is that the issue? Stress?
There are always more than enough interesting things to do, when I'm not around an addict.
Have I forgiven him? I think so. I've forgiven him many times, as more things to forgive became known.
Am I over him? Yes. I grieved for our dead relationship & the death of his personality before I left him, decades ago.
But it's still sad. He was a cool person.
Other addicts & drunks seem to have consequences.
I mean consequences visible to others, consequences that happen within hours or days or months.
Things to help us feel sorry for them or to help us realize they shot themselves in the foot.
His consequences were delayed for years. Now in his old age signs of his chemical abuse are finally returning.
But he smoked 4 packs of cigarettes a day for awhile, and before that he smoked 3 packs of cigarettes.
But he seems to breathe fine now, in old age. How can that be?
I don't believe that abstaining from chemical abuse earns us the right to perfect health,
But how can I sit here with bronchitis while he traveled to Arizona this week?
It's things like that.
I grew up in a home with a smoker.
But he grew up in a home with 2 smokers.
People say, "He traveled to attend a funeral. That can't be fun."
So true. But I doubt I could have traveled to attend a funeral, while having bronchitis.
That's my point.
And I've never smoked, let alone 3 & 4 packs per day.
Plus I've already attended the funerals in my family.
He had social consequences back then-- lost his wife, jobs, home. Some friends.
But he didn't seem to mind much.
The rest of us minded a lot.
Some of his bosses cared more than he did about his losing a job.
It's like reliving my childhood perhaps?
My brother always got a free pass about throwing rocks at cars and breaking a windshield or two -- with the drivers in the cars, driving past our house.
My brother was 12 years old -- old enough to know better. But he kept doing it.
Until one of those drivers threatened to sue Mom and Dad.
Mom & Dad got my brother into sports where he had a place to be and things to throw.
But how do we get an addict into sports? How can a drunk round the bases or throw straight?
I have forgiven him. Part of me doesn't care about it anymore. But the hits just keep on coming.
How do we forgive things that haven't happened yet, hurts we haven't discovered yet?
Could a taxi driver forgive the rock my brother hasn't thrown yet?
How about the rocks he threw years ago that haven't landed yet?
