Jaws of the Beast

To those who know me, it goes without saying that I have a problem.  I am too trusting at times.  Too loving.  Too easily manipulated.  Too hard to anger.  I don't believe that the people in my life take advantage of that usually, but the focus on Sam and his drinking before and since the accident has placed that problem in sharp contrast.  He made promises he didn't keep the day after he wrecked my car and last night he made those promises again.  I'm unsure if I can believe him.  On one hand he seems honest in his desire to stop drinking.  On the other I'm doubting that he has the will power.  He seemed to be hedging his bets last night, talking about how he wasn't an addict but a "buzz-chaser" and how he's going to stop drinking for a month or until he's "to the point where I feel as though I can control myself."  But that's the thing.  I know from stories from my dad, and the experiences I've had with alcoholic family members that he will never be able to control himself, even if he can't admit that yet.  He drinks for escapism, and there will always be something to escape from.  There will always be those dark thoughts.  There will always be grieving over lost relationships.  There will always be emotional trials and challenges.  There will always be sadness.  Those things will never go away.  What defines us is how we react to them and if we react by running while looking behind us then we head directly into the jaws of the beast.

I don't know how to save Sam.  I don't think that I can.  I know that he's counting on me for support and that he wants me to take drinks away from him if I see that he's drinking and I can do that for a time, but I have other directions to focus my energy toward as well.  I can't babysit him all the time.  I'm not his boyfriend.  He didn't want that.

I have Steven now.

I'm deeply afraid of these next few months.  I see green skies of drama on the horizon.  Hopefully I'm wrong.