The Worst Of Me

(Originally 10/28/06)

The worst of me starts with some good news ...in someone else's life. My Benefactor has been in rehab for the past week. I didn't know about it until this morning when his father stopped by to see the state of the house before he went to pick My Benefactor up from the rehab. That old man creeps me out. He's always on the edge of disapproving. I suppose he wanted to see if I was running a whorehouse or opium den. I can see why My Benefactor became dependent on crap with a father like him. The old man never seems to be happy about anyone or anything. If that's the only way to make a millionaire out of yourself then you can keep your rotten, soul-killing money.

Anyway, I learned the backstory when My Benefactor came home a few minutes ago. Seems when the Mets lost their place in the World Series, My Benefactor went quite literally mad. He remembers taking a few drugs of various kinds, and then he "blacked out". You'll excuse me, but I'd rather refer to it as "whited out", because apparently, white, Jewish, middle-aged men take copious amounts of drugs and wreck their lives too.

So somehow, My Benefactor's girlfriend went to some lengths to get My Benefactor socked away into a rehab, and that's where he's been all week.

And I did not miss him for a solitary second.

Enter, The Worst Of Me, stage left.

This morning, when I learned where he'd been, I was maybe 6% glad for him. The other 94% was all about me dreading that return. Because a sober Benefactor means a lucid, sociable Benefactor. It means a communicative Benefactor and an at-home Benefactor.

Would I prefer him drunk/stoned/mindless? God help me. I would.

I don't want to live here with people. I want to be alone. I don't want to be friendly. I don't want to be his friend. I didn't want to be evicted and have to move in here. I fought it. I borrowed money from person after person after person to prevent it. But I couldn't prevent it, and now here I am.

Will My Benefactor stay sober now? Yes, I hope so. Will he need my help? Yes, dammit. Will I give it? Dammit. Damn it. Yes.

But there's goes the end of the free ride. I'll be earning this rentless existence from now on. Because now I have to act like a damn AA sponsor. I have to ask him for accountability. I have to set myself up to get cursed out when he's jonesing. I have to try interventions if he slips.

No I don't have to do any of those things. But if I don't, it'll be on my conscence that I knew what he needed, and I didn't give it. That I accepted his house and his provisions, and gave nothing in return that mattered (cat care is really not commensurate).

Oh well. That's the worst-case scenario. Best-case is that his sobriety will go well and he'll become 8x's the person he ever was. And when I leave here, I'll leave a valuable, decent human being behind who might turn out to be a good friend.

Please God let that be it. Give him the strength he needs to stay sober. And give me the strength I need to care. Because what have I done in the past when things got too rough for me? I did want I want to do RIGHT NOW, and that is get the Hell Out Of Dodge.

God help us both.