A Different View

Things are different here.  I don't usually like using the word 'things' (too vague) but it applies, here.  Things are different.  I can't put my finger on any one event or item, but the over-all feeling here is different.  It started a little over two weeks ago.  We have been looking for another dog.  A miniature pinscher.  My daughter has wanted one for a long time-years.  She was casually looking for one, but they are expensive and hard to find in the newspaper ads or even pet stores, plus they are usually very expensive. We have two dogs already, a doberman/lab mix and a beagle mix. Both rescued. Both very sweet and gentle dogs. So, two weeks ago, it was a Sunday and I was going to go get a paper.  My daughter went online and amazingly found a miniature pinscher.  She called. He and a female had just been brought into a shelter about an hour away from us.  The female had been adopted. It was a beautiful day, so we took the trip to meet him.  On the way, I told my daughter, who had been sober for a while, that she needed to stay sober and work at it because if she got the dog, it would be her responsibility.  Also, I had that second doctor's appointment and asked her to go with me because I was a little nervous that something might be wrong.  "Yes, yes," to all of this.  We meet the dog. Make plans to bring our other two up for a meet and greet on Monday and to make a long story short, everyone got along, and we adopted, Dexter.  I came home on Tuesday and that feeling started in my stomach.  (Truthfully, even before I came home, I started feeling something, but brushed it away because she finally had the dog she'd been wanting for so many years).  But, yes, I was dumbfounded that she had bought alcohol!  She went upstairs at one point and  I found it.  I left it where I found it, went upstairs, saw that she was sleeping and closed the door.

When I closed the door, something else closed in me.  She had her dog and knew about the doctor's appointment, but she still bought alcohol.  The week passed and I never went into her room.  Never checked on her. I usually do that, afraid I'm going to find her dead.  But that week it was as if she wasn't here.  I was sitting in the yard while the dogs ran around thinking and it truly was like a light bulb flashed on.  My daughter is always saying that she isn't happy. She just isn't happy.  We've talked in the past about how happiness is how you view life and it does require work at times.  Sitting there, watching the dogs play, it hit me, it's not that she isn't or can't be happy, she doesn't want to be happy.  Everything about her life has the ingredients of happiness, yet for some reason, she chooses not to be happy.  Self sabotages, even.

That Friday, she came downstairs and said that she wanted to talk (a first).  She talked and I listened. She said how she's tired of living like this (heard it before). She apologized for not going to the doctors with me (a first). She apologized for breaking her word about the new dog (a first).  When she was finished, I told her what I realized about her happiness.  She didn't comment (a first).  Then I asked her when her last drink was.  She had said about 14 hours ago (a first, stopping on her own).  I asked if she had anymore alcohol left, she said about 1/3 of a bottle.  I said, 'Well if you are serious about stopping drinking, you'll dump out the rest and begin new, now.  She just sat there for a minute and I got up and left the room.  I heard her go upstairs and come back down.  She handed me the bottle.  I said, "I'm not dumping it, you need to do this."  It was like she was detaching an appendage.  She stood there for a minute and as she walked into the kitchen, it looked as though it was physically straining to walk with that bottle, open it and empty the remaining poison in the sink (a first).  She took a deep breath when it was over. 

So, things are different, now. I don't know if I'm more accepting, have given up, more hopeful, have 'detached' in some way,  I don't know the feeling, I just feel different, which means I have acted different, and 'things' are different.  I feel 'lighter' which is a nice change from feeling like I'm enveloped in a black web that I can't break free from. 

We are doing okay, now.  So far so good.  She has said she wants to go back to church.  So, maybe my pulling away has brought her closer to wanting a better life for herself.  I don't know. I just know that the difference here feels clean and is starting to look a little brighter.