Badly damaged, maybe salvagable.

My “Gay-Husband” or GH and I haven’t spoken in months. He’s been battling with addiction and after showing up randomly at my home and behaving so erratically I was actually a bit frightened. 

I’d seen his Facebook updates, where he seemed sober and on the right track. Then I saw a post about being in the hospital so I reached out via FB message. We talked briefly, he told me he has Intestinal Cancer. I offered support and asked if he had a phone again. He never responded back. I’d headed over to his house once, but no one was home. So I let it be.

Tuesday was his birthday, I went to FB again to wish him well and discovered that he had un-friended me. Having logged many many years with my GH, I was notably offended and went back to FB messaging to express my concern as well as my birthday greetings. I could see him read the message, but not respond. I got angry.

Two days later, I decided that I was going to drop by his house. He was there, his internet was being funky, we talked.

He claims he never cut me off. He claims I sided with Boyfriend against him (Boyfriend was concerned about his random visits and his drug addiction, of course I agreed!) and that I had cut him off. He admitted that he was angry at me for something that was in his own head. When I pointed that out, he got mad. We fought. I started crying. We screamed at each other, he ordered me out of his house. I wouldn’t leave. He called me a lunatic because I was crying. He charged at me and put hands on me and tried to shove and physically remove me from his house. I wouldn’t move. I screamed louder.

Eventually we both calmed down. He cried. I never stopped crying. He tried to explain how he shut everyone out, even his family. How he was convinced he is going to die from the cancer because it’s the same one his uncle had and he was dead within 6 months of diagnosis because the doctors wouldn’t remove the malignant but dormant tumors in is intestine. GH has the same tumors, he says. He said that everyone left him, he said that he needed the time and the space. He said he’d been sober but has had a few relapses. We both agreed that we both made mistakes, maybe I should have tried to reach out more. I thought about it every few days, but I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if he still lived at that house anymore, I didn’t know what was going on and I was too scared to find out. We made up. The bridge isn’t burned anymore.

But it’s definitely damaged. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel as close to him as I did before. I know that happens with long-time friends, they grow apart. It happens. And I know from the experiences with my father that if someone is determined to go down the road of drugs and destruction; there’s nothing anyone can say to deter them. Even if he says what he wanted was someone to tell him it was ok, Iknow that it wouldn’t have made a difference. The only one who can lift you out of that kind of shit is yourself.


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