His "business" is still in the basement, but he's not. I don't know where he went. I know he has a box of clothes because I packed it. I know it's going to be one bumpy road, but at least it's my bumpy road.

You should have seen me this morning. Yelling. I told my daughter, with him standing by, that there will be no happiness in this house. She cried all morning. Her tummy hurt, she was unhappy with her breakfast of cereal, she couldn't reach her other slipper for the pajama party at school. I was no help because my husband used heroin again, for Valentine's Day. Ya'll know I'm in recovery for his deal. I'm not supposed to carry resentment or suffer. I know the alternative. But, my daughter showed me how the house and life has been with his sickness ruling it. No happiness. I said it.

I kissed her and sent her on the bus. I rejoiced in being outside in the big world, be it a cold one. I returned home to more anguish. I noticed my skin had pushed the splinter out. I realized I was through with this disease in my house, my life.

I told him to leave. He said his back hurt. I said, yeah I'd be taking on the shoveling, too. I cried. I called social services and set up appointments. I called his dad and told him not to give Aaron any more money, why, and that he was leaving. I told him that Aaron could do anything in my house. I'm stuck. I have two babies, no job, almost a college degree, no money, and a pretty stomped on self-esteem. But I can push a splinter out. He had to leave or else my life would never be what I want it to be.

I escape to here. Some days I've floated around on the computer all day. Anything to keep from being around his kids. Anything to keep me from rising up happy, just to fall harder from him and his sickness.

I've got to go play with some kiddies now. It hasn't been such a pleasure in months.