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Anson/regret

anson_greene in aamuses

Step Three - 3.2

Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

Step 3.2 - Boundaries are necessary for recovery. Discuss what boundaries you need.

I need boundaries. I know, big surprise. Last to know and all that. Or maybe I've known all along, and I just couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. I've spent my whole life fighting against them, against anyone who tried to tell me what to do. I grew up that way, with rules, with regulations. Step out of line and you knew it, and you had a nice long time in a very quiet room to think about it. I hated it, and I resented it, and the minute I got out of there I made my mind up that nobody was ever gonna tell me what to do again.



And then I joined the Marines. It's a long story, but I know what you're thinking: train wreck. Am I right? Well, you'd be surprised how well growing up in an institution prepares you for military life. I had a hard time, sure. But so did everybody else. I held my own, though, better than some of the other guys. After all, they were used to being free. It didn't last, of course. I had a few good years, but then I fucked it up. I know, another big surprise. And it's another long story, one I'm not gonna tell now.

But...back to boundaries. I shouldn't need them. Not anymore. I'm a grown man, right? I shouldn't need somebody standing behind me waiting to kick my ass when I fuck up. But, as hard as it is for me to admit this, it seems to be the only thing that works. I don't do so well on my own. Like when I first came to New York. I was all alone and I was a fucking mess. Carrying a loaded gun around with me, paranoid as hell, jumping at shadows. It was just a matter of time before I killed somebody. Then my brother Vic found me, and he helped me. That's when things started getting better for me. I got back on the meds, got a good job. And then he left. I think about that a lot, you know. Him leaving, going back to Canada. I know he has his own shit to take care of, I don't blame him for that. He's got a life to live, he can't spend all his time babysitting his fuck-up of a brother. It's just hard, because I felt like I'd gotten so much better, and I'd accomplished so much, you know, really gotten my life together. And then Victor went away and I just started spinning out of control.

I can't even bring myself to tell him, you know? About fucking up again, about being on probation. He'll be so disappointed in me. And he'll blame himself for leaving, for not being here to keep an eye on me. That's the hardest thing for me to face, I think. That maybe he was the reason I did so good for so long. He was the glue that held me together and when he left, I just fell apart. I mean, if Vic was here? None of this shit would've happened. Not the drinking, not the fighting, none of it, 'cause the second he saw me starting to screw up again, he'd have kicked my ass so hard I wouldn't even have thought about touching another drop. That's not to say I enjoyed it. We fought a lot. But even when we weren't seeing eye to eye, I still felt safe. I knew he wouldn't let me fall.

Sometimes, when I get real low, I think maybe they shouldn't ever have let me out. That maybe I lived in an institution for so long that it's the only environment I know how to function in. And that scares the shit out of me. I don't want to go back there. But I don't want to fuck up anymore. I don't want to let people down. I just...I need limits. I need to know where the lines are, and what's gonna happen if I cross them. It's the only thing that works.

Pretty pathetic, huh?

Muse: Anson Greene
Fandom: Moloney
Word Count: 687

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