Here I am. Over 10 years into marriage with a few kids and while he’s been a great dad and husband on some levels, and the sole provider in our relationship during the times when I hadn’t yet figured out what I wanted to do, he’s not always present. He’s one of those smokers that likes to get in his head and contemplate life’s biggest questions. He also barely helps around the house, doesn’t work out, and is tanking in his career.
My biggest fear is that I’ll look up, 20 years from now, and we’ll be in the same spot. I can’t waste my life away. I’m not smoking right now because one, I’ve never had a daily habit (I can take weed or leave it), and two, I refuse to sit and smoke with him like it’s okay. When we got into it recently about his smoking he said, “You can’t tell me shit because you smoke too!” That was my last puff. Nope. I’m standing by the fact that this weed smoking is a dream killer. At least in this house. Because while I may not have a bad weed habit myself, when I do smoke I get fat. I eat like munchies were invented just for me and there are never enough. Plus, if I’m honest, I ain’t mama of the year either. Getting my kids tucked into bed at night is the highlight of my day because right after I’m lighting up a bean.
So now there’s this divide. He’s continued to smoke while I’ve quit and that means that he’s off in the living room watching his sports while I work in the bedroom or go to bed early. I can’t be around him chatting it up and laughing like we used to because I’d be too tempted into taking a puff and thinking it’s okay. Sometimes I think about my mom and how she almost decided to do hard drugs with my father so she could be close to him. I know that feeling. You want to be with your man and on some level he loves that shit more than you so joining in is the next best thing to having him.
I struggle. Ain’t gon lie. It’s tough. But, it’s been a few weeks and I’m still not smoking and I don’t plan to go back. We’ve been arguing a lot during this time because I think I’ve been trying to force him to quit by getting mad and being disappointed when I see him puffing. I throw his own words about wanting to quit in his face, hoping that I can remind him of who he wants to be. He was that stand for me once when I’d almost given up. He stood for me. But he’s kinda chopped off my legs, and gets angry at me calling me judgmental. I just get tired of him using money we don’t have for weed. Sometimes he uses our last $20 for a bag. It stinks. I’m tired of fighting. I’m thinking, will I divorce him over this? Some days I say yes, get out, while you’re still relatively young, live the life you envision. Then other times I think of our kids and I want them to have a family. I also think that as long as I stay clean and I can keep my body healthy and in order, and I keep working on my craft, I can still have the life I want. It’s just more a focus on me instead of us. If he ever changes his tune and wants to be ambitious for his own life, great, but I’ll keep reaching for the stars on my own. That’s life anyway, isn’t it? You come here alone and that’s how you leave, right?