My husband had another court date on Friday. At certain points since the last time we drove up to Gilpin County, it felt like this would be it. That his lawyer would have finished negotiations with the DA and both sides would be presenting the resolution. But most of the time, I know better than to put any hope for resolution within the legal system. I knew nothing would happen and nothing did. Another extension. Again. March 16th. Normal until then, or at least our new normal.
I am learning to put very little faith in the maybes about how everything will resolve from a legal standpoint. Every time I get a glimmer of hope it is blown away. I cannot leave room to dream for a positive outcome. It will be what it will be. I cannot control the outcome and I cannot control the process. I am just riding shotgun.
I had a few red flags pop up over the last couple of days and finally brought them to the attention of my husband yesterday afternoon, after court. I think I let them surface beyond small thoughts into a conversation partially because I was frustrated by another continuation. A realization that his addiction is not going away. Ever.
My husband is not allowed to be on the Internet at all while he is on probation. We have signed into his accounts together for necessities and we keep a log. Initially I password protected my computer but I have gotten lax about shutting it down every single night to restrict his access. I will now leave notes and recipes for dinner saved to the desktop in Word format for him to access before I get home from the office. On Wednesday, I realized an article I had open on Chrome had been scrolled down a bit to reflect the midpoint of the article rather than the top. I mentioned it at the time and he said “yeah I scrolled through that article.” Still no big deal. Then over the course of a few days I realized I had to reinitiate signing in to several of the pages I visit all the time. My stomach churned. Really it just boils down to a game of my doubt and his reassurance.
Standing outside of the courthouse yesterday his mom mentioned their meeting with his lawyer. Until that moment, waiting in the wind for the two of them to smoke their cigarettes and reflect on another court date that ended just like the last, I was under the presumption he went to see his lawyer alone. I have offered, several times, to go with him. For support and for my own reassurance that I get the full picture as its presented. So that I can understand the consequences and the chances. Tiny glimpses into my future that seem like wide open black space 99% of the time. I was hurt. I was hurt that I was not included and hurt that he didn’t mention it. What is he hiding? What does he not want me to know?
His days off work consist of working on himself. Working the program. Doing the homework required for his therapy. I took the rest of the day after court and worked from home. It seemed like a rare opportunity to share time at the kitchen table, me crunching numbers and him working his program. I came straight home and got an early start while he grabbed lunch with his mom. When he got to the house, he cuddled with the dog on the couch and fell asleep. For the entire afternoon. What is his therapy time commitment really like? How does he spend his days off work?
I am also assured that he takes care of our dog on days that his schedule allows. He is providing a bit of company, the window for exercise that our dog deserves. Friday the day floated by without his mention of taking the dog for a walk or out to the park.I asked a couple of times but it was “after this or let me just do this.” Ultimately I took him out while my husband slept. I was bitter, contemplating why exactly I had decided to take the rest of the day and spend it at home. What was my intention?
Tiny moments. Small things. A representation of things I have always brushed off. I cannot let myself continue down that path. I am not listening to myself. And yet I am still here. Allowing those things to happen. Just watching as they do.