Living with your folks, the beginning of the end.

I wake up these mornings and think, "I still live in the basement." Nine times i have done this. My optimistic side says, I am nine days closer to humility.
It's not just a matter of pride. At the top of the list, it's a matter of spiders. After that, mice, then millipedes. Then there's a myriad of emotional implications and social considerations. I hate it all. I just want to wear the truth on my forehead so we can all understand, despite how his pride would be affected. My husband screwed up, and this is what it takes to get him on a better path. I'm doing the best i can to help him without destroying myself.
It's a matter of mental illness. Of that i am not ashamed. Perhaps because most of my closest acquaintances have some sort of neurosis. I expect most readers will empathize with our state.