"Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending." ~Maria Robinson
I am flooded with all kinds of emotions... sad, frustrated, excited, disappointed, fearful, angry, hopeful. A couple of days ago Dave relapsed after 22 days of sobriety. As a student of recovery he was taught to not expect a perfect recovery, that sometimes a relapse would happen. On our end it was an excruciating blow to our delicate existance.
I gathered the kids this morning to speak about one of our options that had been spoken of before but avoided until now: moving out of Denver. Almost immediately there was a kind of unspoken understanding that moving was our best option, that we are all ready to find a life that could allow us a sense of consistency and normalcy. A life where we would no longer be at the mercy of an addiction that has completely consumed their dad.
The battle of alcoholism has beat us; we have nothing left within us to fight. So it is with a very heavy heart that we have decided once and for all to move back to Cody. My lease is up at the end of this month and I have not yet signed a lease on the new apartment. It's time. We've had tears, more from my eyes than from the kids'. The last thing I ever wanted to do was take the kids from their dad. I carry a huge burden of the long term effects this will have on them.
I can't continue to raise them here in Denver on my own. Financially I simply can not do it. Moving back to Cody will take me back to family, to my mom, my dad, my younger brother. They are happy to help, to step in where alcoholism failed.
Moving to Cody will allow for more time with my kids. Instead of an hour commute one way, it will be minutes; school is a block away; friends are within walking distance, where Google isn't needed to see which freeway will get them there the fastest.
We spent all day talking about how this move will benefit us, and we also talked about how painful it will be to leave. We are all leaving friends, memories, *home* behind us, and we are facing an uncertain life ahead of us. I have encouraged the kids to express themselves, to cry if they feel like crying, to talk if they feel scared. I've been upfront about how communication with their dad will be done electronically, via email, video chat, whatever - physical contact with him will be extremely limited of course.
While they know it's going to be a struggle, they also know it's something that has to be done. They are preparing themselves for a new chapter in life - we don't know how long we will live there, but we know that it will be a good place to regroup, recharge, and start new.
I'm so proud of my kids. I'm amazed at their strength and their perseverence. They have fought such a hard battle yet still remain two of the toughest, most tenacious kids I've ever known. When it's time to pull up the boot straps they hoist 'em up and dig right in.
This move will be a scary leap of faith but we are ready. We are ready to give it a try and create a new, healthy, happier ending.