So Saturday night, my partner broke yet another promise (both to me and himself) and had a drink--when I wasn't looking. But I'm sharper than that and realized it. Just one--but this is how it goes. One leads to two leads to five leads to blackouts.
Monday morning we had a little talk but I told him I didn't want to be with him anymore and it was time to split up. I could see his heart breaking right before me. It's just sad that he doesn't get it and won't do anything about the drinking except blame me. I'm headed back to Al-Anon myself to preserve what sanity I have left.
I gotta get out. Being in the house with him just wears me down. I slip into those familiar routines and "honey-do" lists and before you know it, I'm wanting to stay and the lure of the familiar and safe has me trapped again. I've only myself to blame for that. So I'm looking for apartments. A friend offered a room in her home, but--long story--she's quite high maintenance even though I love her to death, and I'm afraid it would ruin our friendship! My sister offered too, but her place is small and she smokes (which I don't like), and I'm afraid she would revert to "older sister mode" and start bossing me around again! A place of my own is best.
My partner has been out of town for a funeral but left a few sweet notes around the house. Again, he's saying all the right things. Am I a bitch if I say it's simply too late?
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