Am I Sick or Just Human?

Things have been a little wierd at my house lately.  I had talked to Steve about how he needn't feel like he has to come to my house to see Owen-there are stipulations, of course, like Steve cannot have him overnight, nor can he come to the house if he has been drinking-but three out of three nights this week, he has come over.  All right, so on Monday it was actually to take Hannah and Eli with him to get a bunch of potatoes (and this is a man who said he didn't want to have anything to do with my three other kids besides Owen?), then he ate dinner with us before he and I went to an AA meeting.  No big deal-except after the meeting we were talking and he accused me of wanting to have things go back to the way they were before, like nothing ever happened.  Which is how we came to the discussion about him not having to be at my house in order to see Owen.  So we established that, agreed that it was confusing for everyone, etc.   Forward to Tuesday night, when he invited me (and those three "other" kids) to a family birthday party for his brother in law.  I had to leave to take Sam to a Pack Meeting for Scouts, so I told Steve, "Hey, if you want to come out and get the carseat, you can just take the kids home when you are finished, I should be home by then."  I was trying to give him the opportunity to spend some time with Owen without me, without feeling pressured to be part of this family that he was so adamant about not wanting.  Also, hoping that he could just drop Owen off and leave without feeling obligated to stay and make chit chat with me.  But no, he said, "Why don't you and Sam just come back for cake and ice cream?"  Hm.  So we did, then he came over to the house for a little while after it was all over.

Last night: I was making dinner and actually feeling a little sad, trying to get used to the fact that he isn't going to be around at night anymore, etc...when he pulled up.  I did not go out of my way to welcome him in, just continued to make dinner and police the homework routine while he played with Owen.  He ended up having dinner again, and then hung out just like he used to until it was about the time he would normally leave. 

In addition to this, he has been calling me.  Not excessively, not in a stalking kind of way, but just like we used to do.  You know how it is-"Hey, just calling to see how your morning is going," or "You would not believe what just happened, " to "How is Owen doing today, are his legs still hurting..." Acting, you might see, AS IF NOTHING EVER HAPPENED.

My reaction has been to not react.  I have not called him unless it has specifially been to return a phone call from him.  I have made a point of being busier than normal, of making it clear to him that my life did not end the night he decided he did not want to be with me.  He has made a couple of sexual innuendos and I have not responded at all.  I am friendly, I am just the same as I ever was, except for this: I never ask him about his drinking, if it is hard to be starting over, how he is feeling, if there is something I can do.  I no longer offer my help, make him something special for dinner, give him a hug or a pat on the back.  Basically, I am not doing anything.  Which feels like the right thing for me to be doing.  The part of this that I am questioning is this:  I am secretly enjoying making him do the work, so to speak.  I know that the reaction he is getting is not what he has been expecting: "Oh, Steve, I am so sorry, what can I do to help you/support you/make  you love me," but instead just going on about my daily life.  Am I sick for enjoying the fact that I am not caving in to his expectations?  At some point, I think I will have to say, "Dude, you are really confusing me, and it has to stop.  Either you want me or you don't, and if you do, you have got to get your shit together."  But the sick part of me thinks, "Nope, not yet," because he has to know that if he wants me, he is going to have to do the work.  He has to remember that I had three other children when I met him, he has to be aware that I am no longer willing to get sucked back into that sick, co-dependent cycle of feeling like my behavior is somehow responsible for his drinking, the belief that if I was "good enough," he would want me.

You know what?  Screw that.  I don't have the energy anymore.  There is nothing wrong with who I am, and it isn't some inherent fault in me that prompts him to make the choices he makes.  I know I can offer him all the support in the world (and I am, just not in the way he expects me to.  I am no longer engaging, so to speak.  And I will help him along the way to the best of my abilities, but he is responsible, not me), but he has to choose to get off his ass and do the work-regardless of the circumstances of his life.  So-maybe I am sick, a little bit, but you know, I am ALSO human!