They’re giving you another chance to recover. It’s probably your last before spending most of the rest of your life locked away in prison.
But that doesn’t mean you will take it. You may not choose it. You have always chosen to stay sick.
No matter what the cost. No matter who is hurt.
Choose recovery, because I must be done now with carrying the sickness you insist on keeping. I have to put it down.
I can’t keep fighting for your recovery while you fight against it.
I can’t keep trying to save your life while you are equally determined to waste it or even lose it.
I can’t keep visiting jails and prisons. It’s done something deep and terrible to me.
Today I realize that it is only me. I am alone hoping, praying, and believing you can recover. You have given up.
The way you choose to live your life has all but ended me.
Desperately I want your recovery.
But you don’t want it. You’ve never sought it. Not really.
How much will you have to suffer before you are ready? I already know it doesn’t matter how much I suffer, or they suffer, or if it does, it doesn’t matter enough to make you stop.
All these years I’ve tried to help you, with everything in me, only to realize I haven’t helped you at all.
I’ve only made it easier for you to progress in your addictions.
I’ve provided a soft place for you to land every time you’ve destroyed your life.
I’ve never had the courage to let go. I’m afraid if I let go you’ll die. But if I don’t I know I will.
Maybe we both will.
But even so, I can no longer hold on while you push me away in your determination to go the opposite direction.
I finally accept that while I struggle, fight, sacrifice, and suffer trying to help you recover, you never wanted to recover anyway.
It is my dream for you. Not yours.
I’ve loved you all your life with all my heart, and that will never change. But now I must love you enough to let you go.
Save yourself before it’s too late. I can’t do it for you, although I would, even if it meant my life, if it would help. But it won’t.