Deja vu.

I remember the time you finally said the words, "I know I need help." I was so hopeful because I knew you wanted the help for YOU and not because I, or other people, wanted it for you. You did most of the legwork yourself and that made me so proud. You called anywhere and everywhere, trying your hardest to find somewhere that could take you in and show you some sort of compassion and guidance. I remember you crying on the phone and pleading, your eyes dark underneath, cheeks sunken. Your hair hadn't been cut in ages and you had a hole in your shirt, you looked sad and uncomfortable in your own skin.

The day finally came after what felt like forever but was more like a month or two. We got in the car and started on our 3 hour trip toward what we had hoped would be your new lease on life. The day was overcast, dark, gloomy and sad mirroring how we felt inside. We didn't speak much because I was scared and you were scared and the newness and unknown was uncomfortable.

Then...we saw it. A double rainbow poking out of the clouds like a beacon. A beacon of hope that maybe our pot of gold was waiting for us and our problems would be washed away with the evening rain.

The rest of the day was a nightmare for me. I am not sure how you felt because you are pretty good at keeping things bottled in. I know that when you said you wanted to use one last time before you entered treatment I was in disbelief. The words kind of bounced around in my head and hurt my brain, I shook my head hoping that wasn't really what you said. I could just imagine you breathing out a puff of smoke and life disappearing from your eyes and you would just be gone. I imagined you shooting the needle into your arm and looking up into the sky and all life left your body. I though that your "one last hurrah" would possibly be your death.

When we arrived at the hotel, your sister came and you said you'd be back later. I sat so alone and lonely in that hotel room. I couldn't believe that this was my life and that you had left me in that room with no one to talk to, except the pizza guy. It was so frustrating trying to give him directions and the name of the hotel. He got it wrong and called me saying I gave him the wrong address, I ended up calling several different pizza places, trying to figure out how to get some damn food in my stomach before I cried myself to sleep.

The food finally came and by that time I realized I wasn't even hungry anymore and the breadsticks were cold and the delivery driver was rude. In that moment I thought how ridiculous this all was, how ridiculous it was that something as trivial as pizza sent me over the edge. Well, of course, pizza was just the tipping point. But out of this whole miserable day, all I asked for was some pizza, and I couldn't even have that.

The rest of the night was kind of a blur. Moments passed so fast but it felt like that night lasted forever. You came back with your sister and I had such hatred in my heart for you and her both. I knew you had just done something that disgusted me so much but I was glad in the moment that you were at least alive.

I honestly don't remember the rest of that night. I am not sure if we cuddled or kissed goodnight. I can't remember if I told you I loved you and was proud of you. I don't remember waking up the next morning with you by my side. I don't remember any of that. It was all so terrible I think that I blocked it out of my memory.

I do kind of remember driving you to the treatment center in silence. We grabbed your stuff and went inside and sat. We sat next to each other but I can't remember if we held hands or touched or just sat and stared at our feet. I remember thinking of the double rainbow, though. I don't think I mentioned it out loud, but I did think of it. I hope you were thinking of it, too.

They called your name. You picked up your bag. You handed me your phone and your cigarettes and held my hand and we both just...stared. Stared at each other with almost a disbelief in our eyes that this...this...was our life. Our real life. It was like a movie, we held each others hands tightly as you were pulled gently in a different direction, away from me and toward a new life.

I didn't cry until I got in the car. I cried for what felt like an eternity but I am pretty sure it was only 15 minutes or so. I was crying because I knew I would miss you but I think I was mainly crying out of relief. Relief that this shell of a human that had gone by your name and lived your life was finally getting help.  The tears were hopeful tears. Scared of the unknown tears.

Days went by and it was finally time for you to come home. Your sister brought you home while I was at work and I remember getting home late and running up the stairs as you ran down them and we hugged like we thought we would never see each other again.

While in treatment, I sent you a letter that contained the lyrics to Lego House by Ed Sheeran. As soon as we came into the house we sat together and listened to the song on repeat till we fell asleep.

"I'm gonna pick up the pieces

And build a Lego house

When things go wrong we can knock it down..." - Ed Sheeran

 It's been over 3 years since that day. The day I dropped you off in hopes that you would learn how to live a better and sober life with me. But relapse after relapse, heartbreak after heartbreak, lie after lie, it was clear that life had become unmanageable once again for both of us. So here I sit, wondering if this time will be as painful as the last. Wondering if treatment will work this time. 

Please work this time.