A Pool of Muck

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I wake up in a pool of muck. 

I'm up to my waist in it. 

I try to come to my senses, and I feel bombarded. It smells putrid, it feels slimy, it covers my arms, my hair, it's slathered on my face. Once I take in my surroundings, I remember how I got here. 

My husband brought me to the muck, and asked me to help him wade through it. 

I look around, where is he? I remember that we had been digging through the muck together, looking for something precious that we lost. I can't remember what it is, but it is something I miss. I want it back. I think I NEED it. But I realize I'm looking alone. 

Wait. Why am I looking alone? I realize my husband was the one who lost it. On a day with a heartbreaking new beginning one year ago, I found out he had thrown it in the muck. "Why did you throw it in there?!?!?!". -enter addiction- He asked if I would help him find it. "Stay with me, please. Join me in the muck. We'll find it together."

I reluctantly agreed. 

Pretty soon though, I noticed something that bothered me. I had been expecting him to jump in the muck first, to lead the way. He lost it after all, shouldn't he be the one responsible for finding it?

But that isn't how it all went down. Somehow I ended up jumping in the muck, convincing him to jump in too, and help me look for the precious(gollum reference, sorry, hope it's not ruining the mood here). 

I was the one doing the heavy lifting. I didn't really like it, and found myself wondering why I was doing it in the first place. Maybe finding this precious thing wasn't worth all of this. It certainly didn't feel like it was worth it if he wasn't even willing to look with me. 

Sometimes I'd be wading through and he'd be right there with me, digging and digging. Sometimes he'd stand in it, but pretend he wasn't surrounded in filth, and couldn't understand why I was so upset about it. Other times he wouldn't even be in the pit, he'd be off doing something else and leave me in it, all alone. 

Then one day I decided I didn't have to stay in the pit. If he wasn't going to look, I wasn't going to look either. I had other needs to take care of. I had children to feed, a house to clean, happiness to find. I still really really wanted to have the precious back. I knew it meant so much to me. But I needed to know he was willing to find the precious himself. I couldn't look with him until I felt secure in his commitment to finding it. 

So I left the pit. I got out, wiped off the muck, and did my best to wash it off. Bits of it still stick to me, but I'm okay with that for now. I know it will take time to rid myself of the muck. 

He didn't react well to me leaving the pit. 

"Where did you go? Why aren't you helping me? I've been working so hard to wade through the muck and find the precious but it's never good enough for you. You are giving up on me even though I've been trying so hard."

It was hard not to go back and wade through the muck(it still is). It is hard not to feel guilty for leaving him there by himself. But I didn't throw the precious in there, And I can still choose to help him find it if I want to. But I can also choose not to help him. I am not a bad person for wanting to stay out of the muck. 

So for now I am letting him look by himself. Hopefully he will look hard. But that is his choice and I can't choose it for him. 

So I'm staying out of the muck for now, and maybe I'll want to help him tomorrow, or maybe I never will. 

But I know one thing for sure, if I ever want to help him look in the muck, I'll use a fishing pole first instead of jumping right in.