The past two days have largely revolved around D and the funeral for her ex, and her re-connecting with the family, so pretty much nothing got done. W is still refusing to sit, so I had to wash the rugs again yesterday, and still wakes me up with stupid stuff in the middle of the night, so I'm more sleep deprived than ever. What's worse is that now that he is out of the hospital and starting to feel better he is back to his old tricks. Apparently, in the guise of comforting T, he went down to visit, but his real purpose was to try to score some beer. T refused, knowing the new rule is zero tolerance. He tried it twice, once with a witness present, so despite him trying to tell me (with the sad puppy eyes) that it's too bad I believe T rather than him, I have corroboration. Not to mention this has been his pattern for the past three years.
After this latest hospitalization I told him, as soon as he was lucid enough to understand me, that I refuse to go through this again. If he wants to kill himself he had better find someplace else to do it. I still have the number of not one but two lawyers, and if I see that nothing has changed, and he is going back to the old pattern of drinking behind my back every chance he gets, lying to my face about it (and everything else) I will have no choice but to file for divorce and bankruptcy. This has happened too many times, and no matter how much love there has been in the past thirty years I need to save myself - I refuse to go down with him! He is a classic alcoholic, with many of the markers for a sociopath as well. Lies without compunction, blames everyone else for his problems and refuses to grow up and take responsibility for his actions. I think after all this time supporting him, protecting him from the consequences of his stupidity and taking him back "for love" it is time I finally did what I should have done before he had the stroke - force him to face what he is and either change or take a hike.
For almost two years before the stroke he was on a constant buzz, going through a bottle of tequila a day, and putting me through hell. If I argued with him and begged him to stop and grow up he threatened to walk. I should have let him then. Now that his health has deteriorated so much I'm chewed up with guilt at turning him out, and he knows that. Of course he swears he isn't trying to guilt me, but I'm not sure he knows the difference between his delusions and reality anymore.
Now he has taken off - probably to hitch to a bar with that $20 in his pocket, and will probably show up sometime late in the evening begging to sleep on the floor or the recliner, then if I allow it he'll take that advantage as leverage to get into the bed about 3AM. Not this time. There is a foldaway bed in the utility room, which is much warmer than the garage - he can sleep there if he comes back drunk. I've had it.
I just have to wonder what flaw in my character made me put up with his shit for so long?