Part V: Alienation

Friends are the one thing we all turn to when we feel as though we are blindly stumbling through life. These people we hold near and dear are often the light guiding the way through darkness. Scared, we grasp through the air trying to find them, hold them. Friends are our reassurance someone is there even when you're lost.

I really took pride in the fact I had a wonderful circle of friends. They became my family as my family of origin lived thousands of miles away. Our children played together, our families ate dinner together and our lives intertwined as one. Some knew about my recent struggles and vowed to be there for me. The depths of my soul held one truth:  My friends were the one thing I had.

As the summer months appeared, my little family, the husband, one boy, a girl and their dog drudged ahead, held down by dark, murky truths only I knew. The sun may have shone, but inside our home it was blocked by dark a cloud promising violent storms. I lived my days as the sun and my home, content on the outside, brooding inward.

I continued to struggle with the truth, grasping at any sign of an answer. Alone. Save one friend who stood outside that circle. She was my sunshine. Anna knew my truths, but didn't offer any false promises or cheesy motivational cliches.

"Everything happens for a reason," never passed through her lips. She was a crutch in those moments where I wanted to scream for fear of losing my mind. Without judgment, she'd sit and listen. Her responses often held the truths.

"Man, shit is really fucked up huh," She'd say with a slow drag on her cigarette, exhaling. Preach.

Anna never treated my husband differently even though she knew what secrets he held. Moreover, she spoke to him about his current events, "Man, shit is fucked up." They'd laugh. There was something special about her ability to laugh even when, "Shit is fucked up."

This was the friendship that anchored me, so I never set sail. I sat, forever moored to my pier as my other friends shifted colors heading into uncharted waters. They were living their lives with children aging, bellies growing with child, marriages starting and careers soaring.

I sat, tied to the docks watching as my circle of friends lived as if everything was okay. And it was. For them. My life was stuck in state of  purgatory greater than even Dante fathomed. Devil and Angel perched on my shoulder whispering promises in each ear.

"Just leave," the devil would whisper into my hear. His voice sweeter than the most ripe strawberry, fresh from the field. "You can't help him. Nobody can. Addicts don't care about people."

All the while an angel would comfort me with an even more saccharine voice. "Everything is going to be fine," he'd lovingly assure me. "You love him. With patience all things will happen in good time."

Those voices hounded me. I'd visit with my friends and couldn't focus on anything they'd say as my moral representatives grew louder, drowning out those who meant so much to me. It was maddening to know I loved them so much, but could no longer care because my heart was too full of my husband.

Slowly, they sailed away, appearing as a tiny pinpoint on the horizon. They'd radio here and there, but the connection became staticy, lost. Eventually, I stopped waiting for a signal.

My anchor, Anna stayed with me ashore. We talked and laughed over beers often. I felt normal with her.

As a result, I distanced myself from other friends. I was tired of their questions and sympathetic looks. It was exhausting painting on a face of normalcy every time they were around.

"I'm fine," I said more times than I can count. The whole charade was tiring and left me drained.

I know my friends are not responsible for my happiness, but damn it I needed them. It took me a year to realize things between us all would never be the same. I slowly let their presence slip away. I held onto Anna for dear life. She remains by my side. Never one to shy away from any situation, she's embraced me for who I am and who I'm not.

She opened a new door for me. One that allows others in and closes when the friends former friends knock. There's something funny about doors. They may lock, but you can always break those mother fuckers down.

Part IV: Trust

The weeks after learning about my husband’s secret life, I spent a lot of time wondering what to do. I conferred with the one and only friend I knew wouldn’t judge him or me. She and I spent hours talking about it. At times, the conversations held a tone of disbelief and wonder. Other times, the tone was anger and outrage. I battled over whether I could believe his promise of not using or if I should convert to a state of mistrust.

As silly and naive as it sounds, I trusted that he'd stopped using. Essentially, I felt he came clean to me on his own accord. I didn't catch him. He chose to tell me the truth. Okay, so his admission may have been brought on by a state of paranoia, but ya know feelings and stuff. I just knew he wasn't the typical addict. Weeks turned into months.

In hindsight, I realize these thoughts were fueled by my inability to accept the truth. I was so angry with his deception more than his drug use. Yet, it's the drug use that should have driven my anger.

I learned of my dear husband’s drug use in May 2012. Not one time did I monitor his cell phone activity. There was not a moment I questioned his behavior. I did not concern myself with his use of money. We were going to marriage counseling and it seemed things were moving forward. It wasn’t until November of 2012 that I began to suspect he was using.

We were on our way to a family camping trip. It was a beautiful start to a long weekend and the sun was setting. As we drove to our camping destination, we made a wrong turn. The husband went to turn around and our trailer got stuck in the soft sand. To say it was frustrating would be an understatement.

My phone wasn’t receiving a signal so calling for help from my beloved $20 phone was out of the question. Thankfully, his phone was receiving a signal. He handed me his phone to call friends to pull us out of the sand. I called and then decided to scroll through his text messages. I’m not sure why I made this decision, but I did. Instinct.

I noticed a text to someone named Chris. I didn’t know anyone named Chris and what was even more sketchy was the contents of the text.

“Hey, I have the money I owe you. Want to meet up?”

Curiosity sparked, I scrolled further. The cryptic nature of the texts led to me believe it was drugs. I asked. He scoffed.

Seriously, that was it. I was still trying to play nice. Still making an attempt to put my trust in him. Stupid fucking girl. That’s who I was in that moment and the subsequent moments that led to today. I felt completely lost. How do you know where to go when there is no fucking map?

That shit is real. It’s as though you have this compass leading you in the right direction yet you choose to ignore it because maybe, possibly it’s just wrong. That can’t be the right direction because this map I’m holding tells me to change direction. The thing is the map was drawn by a fucking gorilla. He doesn’t care where you want to go. He just wants to draw shit.

Rather, he just wants to do drugs, leading me astray from the path I should be taking. How dare you ask if he is still using! Pshh, really? Why would I do that to this family? I’m too busy to even think about doing that. And farther of the path you go, hoping you finally stumble upon a sign leading you in the right direction.

The signs are there. You just can’t see them.