I’m learning something about myself…

I’ve really thought that I had this boundary thing down for a long time. After my first few Nar-Anon meetings, I thought I really got it. I just needed to think about what I needed and let my husband know what I needed, and voila! We’ve got boundaries.

I am also a little bit appalled at how long it has taken me to realize that, no, I really didn’t get it.

With my car, for instance…I have gradually, slowly restricted how much I’d let my husband use my car. When we first got married, he had his own set of keys. He also had his own car. We’d use each other’s cars whenever it made sense to switch cars…you know, like normal husbands and wives do. After he sold his car for heroin and took my car to go get more heroin, I took away his keys. I’d still, however, sometimes let him keep the car for the day while I was at work. (My first blog post ever was inspired by one of these days.) He’d always get me with the line, “I want to go look for a job.” Then he’d drive all the gas out of my car and show up an hour late to pick me up from work, jobless, high, unapologetic. It took me months and months to stop buying that line, to tell him that I wasn’t getting stranded at work anymore.

The next phase in the car debacle was that I’d let him take my car to the methadone clinic in the mornings. The clinic is very close to our house, and I didn’t want to get out of bed as early as he wanted to go to the clinic, so I let him take my car. It was ok for a while, until he made me late for my morning yoga class repeatedly by not coming home after the clinic. He’d come home with his pockets full of merchandise he’d stolen on one of his shoplifting sprees, and I’d be waiting, all dressed in my yoga clothes, freaked out about whether or not he’s been arrested, and my car arrested with him.

After months and months of this behavior, I’ve finally gotten it. He can’t use my car. Ever. As much as I want to believe that he is reliable, that the words he says will match up with the reality he creates, his actions have been telling me loud and clear that he is not going to respect my stuff. He’s going to do whatever he wants without regard for my safety or the safety of my belongings. I can’t hope him into being different…I can accept the way he is, and I can change my behavior accordingly. It’s a remarkably simple principle, but it’s taken me so long truly to employ it.

When I go to bed at night, I put my car keys and my wallet in a trunk with a lock. There’s the little bit of jewelry that he hasn’t stolen locked up in there as well. It’s a complicated life, but I’m getting better at living it. It is a funny kind of spiritual training…in ways, I suspect that once I get myself all boundaried up, where I’m totally safe to continue living with my husband, I’ll have successfully shut him out. Once there’s no chinks left in my armor, I’ll be ready to leave.