I blogged about it, and tonight I even dared to utter it out loud to my best friend on the phone. I was feeling happy, secure, at peace. I wasn't even getting the usual niggling self-doubt demons gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. I was happy damn it, and I was going to stay that way.
I wasn't going to speculate on what Roi might or might not be doing. I was not going to worry about what Kyd might or might not be doing. I was going to take the approach that they are addicts, and addicts lie. It's part of addiction. I was just going on the assumption that shit was probably going on. Not in my court.
But despite my best intentions to ignore the shit out of that shit, there it was looking me straight in the eye. Pinpoint pupils.
Roi had locked himself in his office the last two nights, "working late". The work part is true. But it was also well-timed with his prescription pain killer pick up two days ago. He didn't tell me about that. He told me he was going to pick up a futon. That's how he rolls. He doesn't fabricate tasks in order to feed his addiction, he seizes the opportunity of the natural flow. I had asked him to pick up the futon, and because the futon was near his doctor's office he saw an opportunity.
Isn't he a clever little addict?
He came downstairs around 10:00 p.m. and was standing near the fireplace. The living room had one small lamp and he was in shadow. No mistaking those pinpoint pupils. When I asked if he was taking pain killers again, he said, "yes, my once a month break".
Which we had discussed at length. Which we had decided together was not ok. Which he had agreed didn't really constitute sobriety.
And with all his years of "recovery", he stood there and calmly said he hadn't "lied" to me, he just hadn't told me. Followed by his telling me that it was "ok" that we disagreed about how important lying by omission is. Followed by him telling me that he'd been so happy lately and if it really bothered me he wouldn't do it.
If it bothered me.
Yes, it bothers me. And we had already ALSO agreed that it DID bother me.
He began again, "I don't want to jeopardize..."
You know what motherfucker? If you don't want to jeopardize, then don't jeopardize. Because right now shit is in jeopardy.
And you know what I'm most angry about? That I brought him dinner, delivered right up to his office because I didn't want him to go without eating while he was working so hard. Even though I have work backed up to 2033 myself.
*Update:
Hang on. It gets better. He came back to the living room with a plan to talk some sense into me, because clearly I'm overreacting.
"Remember when you said you quit smoking, and when I asked you if you had been smoking..."
I had lied by omission to him about my sneaking cigarettes. And oh yes, I GET that addiction is a back-alley bastard of temptation, and it will make you lie to your mother, your best friend, your lover, your priest, strangers on the street, and sometimes even your cat. So therefore he was clear, right? Couldn't I see how I had done the same thing?
But I hadn't mindfucked him, and it's that fucking with my reality that really annihilates trust. I had absolutely lied by omission, but I was also really clear that that's what I was doing, I was really clear that it wasn't ok, and I was completely prepared for consequences and that they all belonged to me. I was addicted, I was falling into that black hole, and out of shame of my own weakness I wasn't admitting it out loud to those who were proud of me. So when Roi asked me if I was smoking again, I said yes, I apologized, and said nothing else. I didn't try to tell him how he should feel about it. I didn't tell him how he should react. I didn't tell him it wasn't a big deal.
It was all just another addicty tactic. He was deflecting. So in order of appearance, in the space of 20 minutes, there was minimizing followed by denial followed by blame-shifting followed by deflection followed by a guilt trip ("all I can say is I love you but if that's not good enough").
This arsenal of addict tactics, it's like an anti-hero car pimped out with weapons and defenses when there isn't even a battle. Everyone shook hands before the race, the rules were clear, and then Super-Addict shows up with his car that LOOKS like a normal car, but really the minute the race starts there will be oil slicks and tacks on the road and blades coming out of hubcaps and illegal turbo boosts.
FOUL!
*Update:
Hang on. It gets better. He came back to the living room with a plan to talk some sense into me, because clearly I'm overreacting.
"Remember when you said you quit smoking, and when I asked you if you had been smoking..."
I had lied by omission to him about my sneaking cigarettes. And oh yes, I GET that addiction is a back-alley bastard of temptation, and it will make you lie to your mother, your best friend, your lover, your priest, strangers on the street, and sometimes even your cat. So therefore he was clear, right? Couldn't I see how I had done the same thing?
But I hadn't mindfucked him, and it's that fucking with my reality that really annihilates trust. I had absolutely lied by omission, but I was also really clear that that's what I was doing, I was really clear that it wasn't ok, and I was completely prepared for consequences and that they all belonged to me. I was addicted, I was falling into that black hole, and out of shame of my own weakness I wasn't admitting it out loud to those who were proud of me. So when Roi asked me if I was smoking again, I said yes, I apologized, and said nothing else. I didn't try to tell him how he should feel about it. I didn't tell him how he should react. I didn't tell him it wasn't a big deal.
It was all just another addicty tactic. He was deflecting. So in order of appearance, in the space of 20 minutes, there was minimizing followed by denial followed by blame-shifting followed by deflection followed by a guilt trip ("all I can say is I love you but if that's not good enough").
This arsenal of addict tactics, it's like an anti-hero car pimped out with weapons and defenses when there isn't even a battle. Everyone shook hands before the race, the rules were clear, and then Super-Addict shows up with his car that LOOKS like a normal car, but really the minute the race starts there will be oil slicks and tacks on the road and blades coming out of hubcaps and illegal turbo boosts.
FOUL!
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