Stuck on the Mine That Isn’t Mine

Last night I watched a video of a movie out called “Mine”. It’s a story about a marine sniper out in a desert who steps on a mine and cannot move for long hours while he struggles with dehydration, exposure to too much sun, sandstorms, wolves trying to kill and eat him, and hallucinations mixed with flashbacks about his troubled and unresolved life.

It was horrible and riveting at the same time. I could relate. Not incidentally, the man I live with was gone too long, not answering his phone, disappeared for an obvious time period that could only mean one thing: He was doing something he knows he should not. When he got home it became crystal clear he’d fallen off the wagon and had drunk alcohol. This after over 60 days of sobriety.

I told him I’m not going back to him using meth and/or alcohol. I skipped the hysteria, rage, pleading, threatening. Been there and done that for over 30 years. He did his usual defensive drunk bluster about getting a hotel room and going somewhere else for the night, which I dismissed, knowing full well that a key inner part of him is always waiting to be kicked out for good no matter how good things ever get. And there is very young part curled up in a fetal position inside in terror of it.

I feel like my life has been just like the guy’s ordeal on the mine. This in relation to living with a guy who wants to die and is never, ever gonna be OK, even if he’s sober. Like the man on the mine, I have had grave difficulty moving forward, even when salvation is presented in the form of ghosts and a helping human  who understands the situation all too well, having lost a leg and a young daughter to the dangerous mines.

Now the guy has called and is exhibiting some healthy fear and remorse over his “slip”, but I’m aware now that I am far from being where I need to in relation to him, his sobriety, and life. He is the mine I’ve been standing on. I have a workable form of detachment, from him and how he behaves, but it is not enough. My confusion/delusion has centered around him, and I don’t know how to get off it safely. There is a paradox at work here, and I know I can’t cut the Gordian Knot juts yet. But it will have to be cut, I will have to move forward with myself somehow.

I’m not at fault for freezing on the mine that the guy I’ve been supporting, But it has to end, and no matter what happens, it’s a big death of what I have identified with as my life. I’m still terrified of moving forward, still frozen on the Mine that isn’t mine.

 

About Shirley

I started this blog to expand and explore my rhythm horizons as a hand drummer. That exploration includes touching on the rest of my life and inner world as authentically and truthfully as possible.
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