January 24th, Year 20

In order to be covered by my father’s health insurance plan, I enrolled in school. Of course, I will not be attending. It is, after all, just beauty school. Even at my lowest, I still suffer from a superiority complex. It is difficult to detect, with the black ink I paint my life in.

While many may not consider leaving home for no more than an hour a reason to celebrate, for me, it is a victory. Not only did I do this once today, but twice. The second time was to attend my first Al-Anon meeting.

In a room full of people who were reduced to a pathetic mess as a result of co-dependency, I cried through a speech I had prepared. Nothing that came out of my mouth was remotely cohesive. I believed what brought me there, was my addiction to Robert, but all I could think of was my father and his alcoholism. There was the time he was so intoxicated, he almost fell into a bonfire. My cousin and I were there to save him, the way he had always been saved from himself. Or, the time he locked himself in the car, which was parked inside a closed garage. The motor was running, and Robert and I had to keep bringing him out. Somehow, he would end up right back inside, when we thought him asleep, or over his temporary suicidal ideations.

The Al-Anon members made a connection immediately. Those two men are interchangeable, and so they all cheered when I told them I had left Robert. It felt good. It felt right.

I can leave a lover, but I cannot cut away at the chains that bind me to my family.

So, I have to admit I have some kind of problem, and that I am powerless over it. The problem is stronger than I am. Right now, it isn’t a difficult thing to acknowledge. There is no doubt in my mind that, should Robert come back, I would be on my knees before he even spoke.

January 24th, Year 20

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