Post 16
Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne.
You genuinely gross me out, and when you affect him, he grosses me out. It's so ugly and so disgusting to watch. I keep telling myself that I'm doing the right thing, by being there for him, knowing in my heart it's what he deserves, and that he'd do the same for me, but, at the expense of my children, and their still somewhat innocent minds. Is being his "solid" and his "bonnie" worth continuously clouding their minds with this filth of the world, over and over and over? Pretending that this is normal, that every kid has a parent that is severely addicted to heroin? Do I just sit back and watch my life go downhill because of it? Do I sit back and wait until it literally drains and drowns us financially, while never actually growing up? I'm supposed to remain struggling to keep my head above water, at a complete standstill while the universe around me moves forward? While my kids get older by the day, wiser by the minute, braver by the incident they involuntarily witness?
Eventually, they will leave me behind, just as the rest of the world, I once knew already has. Is being a "ride or die" really what it's cracked out to be? Or am I just riding to die? Sometimes I'll videotape his episodes, in dyer hope he'll even take a small glance at them, so he can see the monster that I see, and that they get to see. It makes my heart so sad, but I can't get left behind Satan. I wish you'd just understand my frustration, and at least simmer down a little bit, so I can catch my breath once in a while. It's exhausting, babysitting him multiple times a day, in hope that he just makes it through this one time, if God will just allow him to breathe through this one too, then I'll stop asking for so much. Until the next time, when I ask the same exact thing. I ask God again and again and again. When do you suppose he'll consider this request repetitive, and not give me as much grace and mercy one time? Because one false move is all that it takes, and he could stop breathing, and I'd never see him again. While I sit and explain how I don't deserve to put my life on hold, I'm then reminded of the opposing side, and I don't know if I'd ever forgive myself if he died somewhere else, besides with me. How sick, that I'm actually worried about whose house he'd die in, wanting and needing it to be mine if any. That's so beyond messed up, but it's reality. It's my reality, at least. Day in and Day out. Satan, when is enough, enough? Is it going to take killing him, for you to finally stop hurting him, and hurting me? I'm losing patience There's not much time, I can feel it. Please don't take him from me already. I'm not ready. I'll never be ready. I'm begging you. Please don't take him, it's not time. I know I can help him, I just don't know how. But I will figure it out, I swear. (God, please don't give up on him yet. I need you right now, and I need you to not throw in the towel. I need more time. Amen).
Until next time Satan, ill talk to you later.
Morganne
