Drew Eden and how to forgive your attacker

My sweet child has the fifth upper resp. infection this year right now. Her immune system is weak due to paternal drug use prior to conception. It really upsets me hearing her wheeze and cough and be ill all the time. It is really not fair as life too often isn't. I get very upset every time she gets sick because I feel it is not needed.
Which reminds me to insert here that my ex-husband called last week and apologized to me for all that he had done. It has been 4 and a half years since we were together and I have been married one and a half of those to my second husband. I responded badly to the apology.
I knew at some point he would realize that he screwed up. He was explosive and violent when he used drugs. I lived with him for 7 years behaving the way he did. I never knew which end of the spectrum he was on, going up-going down-high-with drawl. And no women who live through this, and God be with the ones that don't, ever speak of the torment they live in. He went through 4 rehabs while we were together and lost 5 jobs. I never really knew him at all. He hid his addict side until absolutely necessary to tell me. He left bruises visible and not, his favorite thing to do when angry with me, because he was convinced I had an affair with anyone that crossed my path, was the choke hold. Never mind the other women he had affairs with. He also adored the spit in the face when she doesn't expect it. I was so afraid of him. The really sad part is he could be wonderful too. He could be so sweet and romantic and just really great. That is the scary thing, it kept me there, waiting for him to notice that I loved him. He never did.
He calls for the first time in 6 months- yes 6 months- he has not even called to check on the kids in that amount of time. So he apologizes and I was very offended. I just ask how do you apologize for all the heartache you put me through? The kids were too young to remember living with him. They only remember their "REAL" Daddy- my second husband- not the biological real but the "REAL" Daddy. To apologize was really upsetting to me. You just can't take that back.
After calming down I called back and I apologized and I told him I was glad that he was a terrible husband/father/man. Because I wouldn't be here now if he'd been good at it, and here is really good. Here is chocolate fudge brownie good. I forgive him if I get to be here.

enough already

He was, at one time a nice guy. Some may have considered him a catch. I am watching him self destruct from a safe distance. I am in a bomb shelter- protected- nothing he does will harm me.
Yet I witmess his slow and painful downfall.
He is no longer permitted to see our- and by our I mean my husbands and mine- daughter. He helped in her creation yet he will never be her Daddy. As of this week and rumors of track marks emerge and suicide treats, he is no longer going to see her. As long as I can help it. She will forget him.
His mother is upset. His sisters are going to be angry that I will not interview to win him a free stay in rehab. I married him for the second time after his first stint in rehab. I thought he had changed. I personaly helped him through 3 other programs, two he lived in, one outpatient. I had two children in diapers to take care of while he dissappeared for days on end, after these supposed rehabilitations.
I just can't help anymore. I had held the towel to his nose when it bled rivers from his torment. I have forced him to eat. I went to the gym when he could no longer sexually maintain, thinking it was because I was too fat to stimulate him. I have protected my children from him- using my body as a shield. I have watched him induce wars on his own body that I cannot imagine ever waging on my own. I refuse to help anymore, he is not worth my effort.
I will not feel guilty about my decision. My husband, who had spent days repairing damage the first man did to me, says it is my choice. I tell him it is not just my choice. It is our choice, she is our daughter now, we are in this together. He agrees and hangs his head and tells me he never wants her to go there, he wishes we had kept her away sooner.
Yet I ask myself, am I being fair?
He is her genetic donor, should she know him for better or for worse? Do all parents ask themselves are they making the right choice for thier child?

vent

I went to the house we are buying today and witnessed the neighbors drinking and partying and playing loud music. Is it age that makes me cringe? Is it the thought that my children will see them doing these things? Is it that I too lived that life and grew out of it? Is it my salvation? Religion? What makes me sick of the sight of these people?
Whatever it is it makes me also plan the inside shutters for all windows facing them. I visualize our fence going up and trees planted in the median yard. I have no desire to speak to them and no desire to even smile or wave. I will not dress like Donna Reed and offer them a plate of freshly baked cookies, "Why welcome to the neighborhood- Neighbor!"I do not want them there, which is not nice of me, BAD JOY, slap my wrist.
I am no better or worse than anyone- right? I feel better than drug addicts and alcoholics though- really, I feel like I am a better person. Yet I am a food addict, I adore chocolate and love diet soda. But you have to eat to live, not as much as I would like to eat, but you have to eat to survive.
I was with a drug addict for most of my life, at this point, and I am not tolerant to thier behavior. I was co-dependant and I suffered post tramatic stress due to his abuse and his neglect. I took anti-depressants and saw doctors because he had me convinced it was my issue-not his. I made him do it.
Then a head doctor told me something that stuck, she said, "it's all in your head."
I thought- IN MY HEAD- it's not a disease, not a physical burden, although it made me sick like cancer, it is not an issue of reality. IT'S IN MY CURLY HEAD.
I decided it- HE- would no longer be in my head, nor my heart and I spent a year or so mourning loss. Loss of him, loss of who I was, loss for the kids, loss of his health, our dreams together, loss of his truth, loss of his morals and his standards, just loss. I no longer took the meds, I wanted to feel sadness and loss and anger and hurt, I wanted to feel so I would know what it is and never even consider being with him again.
And I grew from mourning. I grew very much. It HURT, it hurt like childbirth. It throbbed, ached, and nearly took me a few times.

And now that sight- of people out on the lawn on a lovely day getting messed up makes me ill.
I should pray that they change, that they grow, I should pray that I can accept. I will so do that while I put up shutters and peek on them and thank God that I am not getting in that car with someone who is intoxicated, and I am not being yelled at when he comes down, and I am safe and warm in a bed with a man that only slept with me today and would never hit me.

I am so grateful.