Speaking of personal growth, here we go. Rob and I are heading to the Kripalu Center in western Massachusetts for a weekend of yoga and meditation. While I wasn't willing to do a workshop specifically for couples, our time there will no doubt bring transformation of some sort. Everyone who goes comes back changed.

I'm already dreading it, which is weird, because I'm a yogi who usually welcomes the opportunity to study with new teachers. I love how the steadiness and equanimity cultivated on the yoga mat make meeting life's challenges off the mat easier, and how each teacher brings unique insight to that process. 

But I have big resistance toward growth with Rob. I guess that's what I was getting at in my last post. If you can muster enough compassion and forgiveness for a difficult or mismatched partner to get over your most serious conflicts, does that mean you have rendered moot the reasons you should not be together, end of story? 

Can you forgive your way out of marital strife and into martial bliss? 

Sure, but my question is: Is that the ONLY path? It's the only one any therapist has seen fit to send me down, and that has been bugging me. How about forgiving but still breaking up anyway? What about those couples who are like best friends and divorce without an ounce of acrimony? (Forget Date my Ex: Jo and Slade. There really are couples like this out there, right?)

That seems more like the path before me, though readers of my blog know I'm dragging my feet, too attached to my cozy life, fearful of separation.

I'll be back next week. Hopefully the Kripalu Center will be fantastic. I'll take the advice of a friend who said to have fun, just don't drink the Kool-Aid. 

Drinking to the point of poisoning while playing computer games — that's Rob's weapon of choice. He wounds himself and points the finger at me. I don't pay enough attention, he told our therapist. And she has all the sympathy in the world for him. How nice.

After a whopping near-death episode last spring he stopped drinking for two months to examine his relationship to alcohol, and when he started again he put rules in place: He'd have no more than two drinks per day, and do that no more than two times per week.

That went really well for him. His memory and response time in conversation improved, and he seemed more confident. Then I went out to the Madonna concert last week and he retaliated. (It always happens when I go out with friends or leave town on business for a day or so, leaving him alone.)

Our therapist agreed with my hastily developed strategy to react to his recent setback with no reaction. I shouldn't admonish him, but I also can't take blame or be the one to make him feel better after he acts out.

Soon I leave again for upstate NY to take care of my ailing father for a few days. (Rob didn't think coming with me was worth sacrificing a few days of vacation time. Huh. Noted.)

I wonder what Rob will do while I'm away? Will he get drunk and play video games? If he did, it would put me closer to the door, that's for sure. I'm just not attracted to that behavior. Blame me? And our bond isn't strong enough for it to be worth putting up with.

But if I'm not supposed to discuss his drinking drama with him, how do I make clear to him those consequences? Any advice?

If life is a journey, it's no weekend jaunt to the beach. It's an around-the-world expedition riddled with dangerous passages and course corrections.

My marriage is a journey, unfortunately quite a rough one of late. My relationship to my ailing father and my siblings who also help take care of him is always under construction.

Like many people, I also grapple with work-life balance: how much of myself do I put into my job or even any given project, and how much do I hold in reserve?

I've added another journey. Crazy, right? But stick with me...this one might be worth the added trouble.

I've embarked on a six-month yoga teacher training, and it's intense. The amount and level of physical, academic, and emotional study only seems to grow, week to week. At one point early on I said to a classmate that this might not have been the right time to engage in such a difficult program. Then we started our course of yogic philosophy.

Now I'm chartering more twists and turns in my mind than on the mat. While the training is physically challenging, this journey goes within, and the steadiness of mind I'm building benefits every part of my life.

So this one's a staycation. And there couldn't be a better time for it.

I've written about Rob's proclivity for binge drinking and playing computer games when I'm out with friends or away for the weekend. It's both a cry for attention, and my punishment for leaving him alone.

That he does it when I leave belies a fear of abandonment, which is sad, but after trying to help him for years to no avail, I can't support this unhealthy response to his problems much longer.

And the pattern has taken a dark turn. Rob recently binged to the point of terrible sickness. Looking back, we realize he had poisoned himself and needed medical attention.

I was away for only a few hours, during which he drank heavily. Soon after I returned he was heaving in a strange way. I asked him if he wanted to go to the hospital, and all he could do was sway and try to focus his eyes on me, and say "no" weakly.

We both abided the sickness, waiting out the vomiting. I cringe to think what could have happened, and I wonder why I asked a devastatingly impaired person if the hospital was in order and did not proactively seek help for him myself?

What a complete lack of judgment on my part. Our marriage may be on the rocks, back and forth one way to the other as we try decide our ultimate path, but hopefully in the meantime we can commit to better health and safety for him and for me. Starting immediately.