I hear Joey the dog licking his paws and I savor the soft thlip thlip thlip through the silent peace of my home. It is the only sound. I'm aware it does not threaten me and I am grateful.
Even before the relapse, right after Christmas, the house rocked to the sounds of perpetual motion in stilleto heels. Upstairs, down, kitchen tile clack clack. The laundry room is the smoking lounge. The door bangs shut again and again and again, in out in out endlessly. Dirty butts spill out of an ashtray on top of the dryer until I empty it. I, Father/Butler, signed up for this. I agreed. I said okay, be nice to have her home for Christmas.
The phone still rings, but not as much. I tell the collection agencies to have a nice day. A landlady says she can show the apartment today if you are available. The colleges return your calls. The modeling agencies. The users got the word on facebook. Out of circulation. The call volume dwindles daily.
I got a call from the sponsor you chewed up. Her son didn't make it home till the next day after you recruited him to drive to your boyfriend's house. I turned her on to the Al-Anon group I attend. She'll be okay. Her son's world is about to change.
Mom had surgery yesterday. I took your call from jail and asked you to be nice, handed her the phone. You tried to get her to set up a three-way call with boyfriend. Why doesn't boyfriend spend fifty bucks so you can call him? Your mother had surgery and you used a collect call to us to complain about the service we are providing you during your stay with the County.
I hung up on you and you called back assuming, I suppose, that I would accept the call because you were not done complaining.
Mom is fine. A load off your troubled mind, I'm sure.
I brought "Courage to Change" with me to the hospital. Yesterday's reading compared toxic people to bees.
"A little intimidated by the frenzied motion and intense buzzing, I reminded myself that if I didn't poke my nose into their hive, I wouldn't get stung....I try to put spiritual space between myself and another person's alcoholism or behavior. This doesn't mean I stop loving the person, only that I acknowledge the risks to my own well-being and make choices to take care of myself...I step back from insanity rather than diving in to it. Detachment is a loving gift...."
I am detached, finally. I'll post this and head off to a yoga class. I will find energy and love and peace. My home is again a home. The hostages have been freed.