O.K., by popular demand I am going to
delve into family therapy week. I've intended to take a couple of
days to process it before writing it but I've given it lots of
thought and soul searching since yesterday and I think I'm ready.
When I arrived on Monday morning I was
met by the two facilitation therapists who would be in charge of the
group. They seemed very nice, open and caring. There were probably
20 family members there for the various clients. The clients
paraded in. It was only the second time I had seen Bob
since he had been in treatment. I didn't like to visit because the
time that I did go he insisted on having sex in the bathroom in his
room! I can assure you that at 7 ½ months pregnant the last thing I
wanted to do was have sex but I relented.
We
were all seated in a large group in a big circle. The clients had to
sit across from their family members. There were approximately 10
clients. A rich jeweler from Texas who was engaged to a prominent
Jackson business man. Another girl whose name I cannot remember but
I will never forget her face because, as I later learned when she
apologized to me, she had sex with Bob in his bathroom, too! He was
nothing if not good looking. However, hooking up in any way whether
it's simply flirting or going all the way, so to speak, in a
treatment center is just about the sickest thing you can do. I mean,
think about it, clients in a treatment center have usually hit rock
bottom in their lives. What could they possibly have to offer
anyone? They are the bottom of the barrel as far as relationship
material goes. What these people are doing is trying to focus on
ANYTHING except what they are there for – to get sober.
The
second day Bob's Mamaw came up from Natchez and joined the therapy
group. However, on Wednesday, she was contacted by Bob's mother who
told her that Big Daddy had been diagnosed with inoperable cancer of
the pancreas. They had been divorced for years but had been married
for 50 years and were still very close. She left immediately so it
was just me taking on Bob.
Thursday
and Friday were two of the hardest days of my life. The previous 3
days had been mainly about teaching us to communicate, not be
judgmental, etc. We got down to the actual confrontations the last
two day. The family members had to write a letter (long) about how
their client's using had affected their lives. Some client's had
stolen from their families, some had to be bailed out of jail, some
had really hurt them, etc., etc. Needless to say I had the worst
letter to write of all of them. Mine involved bloodshed, stealing,
emotional abuse, cheating (not just with treatment girl) and an
entire laundry list which most of you could by now, knowing what you
know, write for me.
We
had to stand behind our family member to read our letters. By the
second line I was already crying. I told him how badly it hurt me
physically, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually when he beat
me. My letter stated that I felt as if I was living in a constant
nightmare and that I was so scared all the time. I described the
pain of each blow. Continuing, I addressed the emotional cruelty of
his leaving me on Highway 61 that night and walking in the dark being
so frightened that someone would drive up and hurt or maybe even kill
me and my baby. Another little tidbit that I neglected to mention to
you is that he had slept with his best friend's girlfriend in our bed
while I was at work. The only reason I found out was the stupid
bitch left her panties in the covers of my bed. I'm not sure if she
was really stupid or left them as a calling card for me to find. I
let it all out, laid it on the line and was totally honest,
otherwise why was I there in the first place.
Then
it was Bob's turn. He walked over and stood behind me and began
reading his letter. He apologized for trying to get me addicted to
cocaine on that fateful night more than a year before. Finally he
admitted that not only he had also slept with an ex-girlfriend on one
of his “hunting” trips to Natchez when I didn't go. He told me
he was so afraid of the responsibilities of becoming a father that he
thought if he beat me badly enough I would lose the baby. Thank
goodness God had other plans! The letter also stated that he had
hoped something bad would have happened to me and the baby on Highway
61 as I walked 2 miles in the dark. Of course, all this was followed
by an apology which I had made a promise to accept and forgive his
actions as a part of the therapy program. It was hard to swallow but
I did it.
Whew!
Got that out of me – finally! I really must take a breather.
Thanks for making me feel you are all holding my hand as I reveal
these difficult things to you.
speechless...mm
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