Will He Ever Quit

Why does every therapist I have been to since I first met Jesus ask me if He is interested in quitting drinking?
He's not.

Stop asking me.
Every time, it makes it new and reminds me of the waste, not to my life but to His. The waste and the sadness and the mess of having the relationship in which I grew up be one where there were very serious, painful, abhorrations that, for one, persist.

It's goddamn sad.
I know it.

I've known it better than anyone I can think of; I've known it with any hyperbole and with any metaphor you want to apply.

I fucking know it's sad.

I think I am on a mission now.
I want to find the first therapist ever that will NOT ask me if He is going to stop drinking.
I want to find the therapist who will leave it alone, just like I did.
Where's the shrink that will listen to me when I tell her that He?

And I?

I'm exhausted by exploring that relationship, you know?
I lived it then I processed it then I was living in it again and then processing it again and when I finally goddamn quit and want to process, I dunno, something else for a bit, someone else, something DIFFERENT and bigger and RELEVANT....
Whenever that happens, and this isn't the first time, they bring it back to Jesus.

Just.... stop.
It's over.

It's sad.

He will never stop drinking.

There is nothing I can do about that, nothing.

It's so goddamn sad, okay?

No shit.
I have other things I am doing now, though. I have other things I love differently and in many ways more deeply, more naturally soÖ. Moot point.
Itís sad.
Iím sick of being reminded of how sad it is when all I want is a little fucking happiness.

Now can we talk about someone else, please and can you people take me seriously when I tell you why I love him.

Because I do.
I love him more that I love Him.

arizonasarah at 2:06 p.m.

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