So, I didn’t get the day I wanted yesterday.  I’ll try again today.  I told Charlie last night that I really wanted to try to stop with the bad habits (the recreational drug use).  He says he wants that, too,but we’ll see.  It’s a struggle.  I’ve been fighting this fight for a long time, and I’m so turned around I barely no where to begin anymore.  Sometimes, I think nothing’s gonna change unless something drastic happens, but drastic things have happened, and still…  no dice.

The drugs play a big part in all of our problems.  Exacerbating our mental issues…  eating up money, when we don’t have much anyway…  and, keeping us stagnant, such that our lives aren’t getting any better.  I see the necessity.  I know I have to get this done, somehow, I just end up failing when the moment comes.  I’ll be so determined, and then I’ll feel really sad,or in pain, and I’ll want to shut it off, completely.  I think I saw hard drugs as an alternative to suicide, for quiet a while.  I had to make it stop, one way or another.  It was either a potent drug, or the end of a knife.  I’ve tried to kill myself a few times in my life.  And, I’ve recklessly endangered my life more times than I can count.  Charlie had to give me rescue breathing once, about six years ago, b/c I took too much of some hard stuff, and stopped breathing.  Luckily, I’m still here, but it was a bad incident.

Going crazy, longing for my husband to touch me…  I understand, rationally, that it will take time, if he’s ever able to go there again, at all.  He could still wind up leaving, and that wouldn’t be at all shocking.  But, I think he wants to fix things between us.  I don’t think he wants to give up.  I think, as messed up as I am, he loves me too much to turn his back.  I’ve always felt the same about him.  He had a hard drug habit when we got together (he’d been clean for nine months, and we’d been friends, and a few weeks before I told him I loved him, he started using again), and I never saw it as a reason not to love him.  Maybe, I’m crazy, but it never occurred to me not to love him because he happened to have this problem.  And, I still don’t think that was a mistake.  My mistake was following him down.  I gave him an ultimatum.  I was in a dark, very sad place, and I needed him with me.  He was always nodding in and out of the conversation when he was high, and it drove me crazy.  So, I told him…  "we need to be in the same place at the same time.  Either you’re not high when you’re with me, or you are, and I am, too."  I told him I wouldn’t be around him, otherwise.  He tried to quit to protect me from it.  I saw the pain he was in, physically, and psychologically – I felt so badly for him.  He just couldn’t do it, at that time.  And, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away from me.  He’d been alone so long, and he loved me so much…   so, he shared.  And, in short order, I was strung out, and it was me and him against the world…  a very seductive spiral…

we’ve been through it all.  Homelessness, poverty, illness, loss, desperation, jail (for me, anyway – I got arrested twice, protecting him), various attempts at treatment, and some stints of short-lives success (four months here, seven months there).  But, we’ve been locked into the struggle for a long time.  Getting out of this is the primary concern.  Everything else will seem more possible once this happens.  And, my mental issues shouldn’t be as bad.  They never were before the drugs….  I mean I was never right, but this made it so much worse.  I think if he sees what it can be like, with us off the hard stuff, and on psych meds (at least I’ll be on my meds), he’ll decide that this is worth fighting for.  I hope so, anyway.  Because, right now….  with him not touching me…  I feel so alone, and cold, and desperate.  I need physical contact.  It’s just the way I am.  I never went for these kinds of stints without sex when I was single.  The longest I ever went without sex (after the age of 15, when I started screwing) was two months (as an experiment), and I got so frustrated that I wound up sleeping with a friend, really randomly (bad experiment).  I know I’m hypersexual.  Maybe, I’m an addict, or a nyphomaniac.  I don’t know, but I do know that I need to be touched. 

Need a back rub.  I’m gonna see if hubby will give me one.