Hi Honey, it's me.

Hi Honey,

It's me.  I know you are in treatment and I can't talk to you, so I thought I would write you letters.  Very Nie Nie, I know, but hopefully more realistic. 

You haven't even been gone a week yet, and I have to admit it's been kind of nice.  You are more work for me than you know.  I went to pick you up today at the Ranch and took you to a prosthetic appointment.  You were grumpy....and I was angry back to you.  I should have handled that better.  I know that it's super hard for you right now and that your stumps hurt too.  I should remember that I get infuriated easily when I'm hot or tired and cut you some slack.  I suppose that cutting you slack is not something I have done or been good at for a few years now.  I am always so leery of your intentions that I never give you the benefit of the doubt.  And I'm mostly convinced that it's your fault that I behave that way, however deep down I know that my actions are my own responsibility.  We both need a lot of work.  Addiction has done a number on me too.

Remember when we went into the prosthetist's office and you jabbered on and on and kept interrupting?  I was a little bit embarrassed.  That is something that you've started to do in the last few years.  You have trouble following a conversation appropriately.  Like knowing when to drop a topic, or saying things the other person surely doesn't care about.  It's not something you ever had a problem with before and I thought a lot about it on my way home.  This is what I think. 

1.  It is wrong for me to be surprised that miraculous changes haven't occurred in you not that you've been clean for all of 2 days.  That was a foolish amateur mistake on my part.  I certainly know better.

2.  I think it's anxiety on your part that causes you to do this.  Anxiety from maybe not knowing what to say, or thinking you may sound stupid.  Or maybe:

3.  You talk so fast and try to be so funny so that nobody can figure out that there's a problem.  Or maybe:

4.  You have damaged your brain and it's ability to formulate appropriate thought patterns.

Honey, I really hope it's not 4.  If I stop and think about you being gone for 60 days and I allow myself to wonder how you'll be different, I get quite excited.  I want you back.

I also wanted to tell you how proud I am of you for committing to this program.  I know your face was up against a wall with no other options, but you could have chose homelessness.  When you didn't hold my hand or kiss me, and when you didn't want a coke, I was confused.  But then when you told me that those things were against the rules, I realized how hard you were trying to work the program...even when you were in our car and nobody would know.  It gives me a lot of hope. 

And if I'm going to be honest, every time I think of you and what you are trying to accomplish, I am overcome with love for you.

I'm still trying.  You keep trying too.

Stay Cool...