Taking in Stray Cats

The day after Bobby met me (which was almost five years ago now), he woke up and came downstairs smiling, and his mom asked him why he was in such a good mood. He explained that he'd met someone, and when his mom asked where I came from, he said "Heaven." It sounds cheesy, and it is, but over the next few months, he made me feel like I was IN heaven too. He was the kind of person I didn't have to explain anything to. Without speaking, we could look at each other and we both knew what the other was thinking. It was eerie, and fun, and I had the time of my life. We dated off and on for that year, but life kept getting in the way, and I wasn't okay with being sidelined while he attended to his job, son, family, friends, etc. I was selfish, and in the end, I walked away.

Life went on for the next year and a half, and then out of nowhere, we reconnected. At first, he seemed like the same person. But slowly, little details started coming out, like "oh, I'm not sober anymore. I decided I can be a 'social drinker' now." If only that were the worst of what was going on. I came to find out that in the year and a half since we dated, he'd relapsed, been arrested, wasn't talking to his family, and many of his friends would no longer associate with him. I confronted him, and he SWORE to me that he was ready to get clean, and that I was his inspiration. He was going to do it for me. I was going to save him.

--- Let me pause. I think every woman, somewhere in her, has that need to save someone. Mine just happens to be stronger than others. I've been told that I tend to "take in stray cats" ---

Okay, back to the story. He did, in fact, get clean. I also managed to reconnect him with his family and friends. I can't tell you how many people told me that the only reason they were convinced he would stay clean was because of me. One of his friends even told me that the only reason he was even talking to Bobby again was because I was back in his life. Life was good....for a while...then came the dark days. I won't go down this road again, because, let's face it: we've already gone down it, so I'll just skip to the moral of the story.

I allowed myself to think that I could be wholly responsible for saving someone. It was exciting, and I felt special. But have you ever heard the saying "you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved?" As much as I thought (and wished, and hoped, and prayed) that I could save him, he sabotaged every effort that I put forward. I saved him, and saved him, and saved him, until I didn't have any energy left. I finally realized that the only way I could possibly save him was to walk away. I obviously wasn't doing any good to either of us by my "rescuing" efforts, and, in fact, I was doing great damage to myself. He needed to make the decision to save himself, and I figured he would learn that much quicker without me there saving him all the time. Now he's getting better, and he's doing it because HE wants to. I'm a much healthier person, because I learned that putting my self worth in my ability to "save" someone else is like thinking I can control the weather. For all the terrible things that happened, two really good things happened : 1: Emma (obviously), and 2: I feel like I am a much healthier and happier person because I've realized that, in the end, what I really needed to learn was how to save MYSELF.