Yeah, It Hurts Others. The Blog Is Therapy.

I’m sure I’ll add more as I have time, but I felt like I needed to add something this morning.

I write all of this in the blog to hopefully help someone who has stood exactly where I have in the past. I try to keep it light-hearted when I can, make it funny, too, if at all possible.

But the truth is that the addiction hurts me even years later.

This isn’t just a “SIMPLE” affair where you can easily say, “Wow, you’re a bad person. How can I love you when I obvioulsy don’t trust you?” It’s not like that at all.

This person has chosen a THING over you. A THING! The person you loved has decided that you’re attempts at loving them are not love at all to them and think you are, in fact, bull crap. A poison in their life. If you loved them, why would you be trying to do this to them. (You know, want them to be alive and not kill anyone. How dare I?)

You see, I loved this person. L-O-V-E-D this person. But, as time passes, I realize I was in love with a facade. A front that was put up to interest me, to attract me, to sell me on the ideal that this was the person for me. It takes a lot of work to cover up an addiction and hide it for just long enough.

I was thinking about all of this again this morning as I had breakfast at a place I go to from time-to-time. Nothing overly special about it. However, it turns out in the end that there was something special about it. Didn’t really put two and two together until today. It’s the last place we ate a meal together. Well, attempted to eat a meal. She was so withdrawn I had to go in to get the food and bring it out to the car. Even the parking spot I park in is the same one I parked in that last night. And I’ll tell you, that until this morning, I didn’t realize I’ve been parking in the exact same spot every time since.

Folks, it’s been two years now since that night. Although I’m not physically hurting years later, I’m definitely still hurting in other ways. From going from someone who was always the most optimistic person in the room to someone who is now pretty skeptical of most situations, I can assure you it doesn’t just hurt the addict.

I was listening to a recording I have where she talks about how she thought I was having a problem with it all back then because I was feeling guilty. She actually used the words, “I truly think he feels bad because he is the enabler in our relationship.” Do you want to know how hard it is to hear those words, from that mouth, years later… when you can still hear the person declare in public that they are not an alcoholic and I’m the one with the problem.

So yeah, it hurts others. You want to tell me to, “get over it,” or “let it go,” don’t ya? Guess what? I don’t hold on to it. The addiction makes it a part of you that you simply have to learn to live with every day.

Stay dry.

Alcoholics Are About Moments

I saw her today.

It was just for a moment as I passed her on the road.

It’s been nearly two years since I made the decision for me and my children to part ways with her.

Seeing her was almost surreal. Although I was going 55 miles per hour at the time, it was as if the moment was frozen. She didn’t see me. But I saw her. It was for just a moment.

But it was always “a moment” with her as we lived engulfed in the life of an alcoholic. Everything happened in a split second, a key moment. Decisions about her health, about her treatment, about her career, about her family, and so much more all came down to a single moment everytime. It would always be a moment where she would act out and ultimately find ways to keep down those trying to show love towards her.

In the end, it was a single moment late into the night that finally got my head screwed on straight and saw the situation for what it truly had become… an ever-progressing violent and enabling relationship. You see, I pushed through all the cussing fits in public, the going unconscious in public restrooms, and the, for lack of better words, talking in tongues when completely whacked on the drink of the night. It wasn’t until I felt danger for my children and myself that changed our lives in a single moment.

It’s strange, really. Now that I’m going on two years removed from that life, I’m still facing moments as a direct result.

Moments like…

1.) Being asked if I’d like to have “a drink” when out with friends is now a shocking moment. I can’t just say yes or no. And even though the answer has only been yes four times in two years, it still leaves a non-literal after-taste that lingers for weeks. I’ve never really been someone who can drink more than one drink at a time. All the same, I wish I could get rid of the stigma that alcohol now has for me.

2.) Running into common acquaintances who have no clue about her addiction and how it impacted our separation is always a depressing moment. It’s no longer my fight, but yet I’ll always care about the person. So, when I see common acquaintances, you hope and pray they will try to help her, too, one day. The problem is that most aren’t aware and the few others who truly know don’t even try to do a damn thing. “Why not” you may ask… because those are the ones who love the “fun” things that accompany going out drinking. PSST! Guess what? You were never home on the backside of all those nights when I had to care for her for the next couple of hours. Caring for her consisted of a great combination of keeping her from throwing up on herself in bed all while trying to convince her grade-school children that mommy is just “feeling bad” and they should just try to go back to sleep.

3.) Reading stories about couples who made it through bouts with tough times makes for some extremely hopeless moments that I have kept to myself. (Well, until now as I’m writing it for you to read.) I try to remember that most tough situations in the lives of couples usually don’t include life-threatening situations that endanger you and your children. However, I can’t help but reply and post to people and organizations who tout that your relationship can make it through anything and to never give up on your marriage. In essence, making you feel like a loser for it failing. Man, they have no clue, do they?

And then there’s the one from today… 4.) The “I’m glad your alive and appear to be happy” moment.
It’s one of the strangest moments I’ve come across to date. You see, this all started because I loved her. All I wanted in the world was for her to be o.k. and actually be healthy and alive in the years we were to be looking forward to as our kids grew up. But, after seeing her go through blackouts in public, passing outs in our home, and the vomiting of what I’m told was more than likely pieces of the lining of her stomach, I knew that was all in jeopardy. So, after talking with my brother about it, I got some amazing advice. He said, “If things are getting dangerous and you truly care about her, and you are still with her, why wouldn’t you do anything you could to try to get her help?” Great point. And after spending the last couple of months doing just that, it got to a level of abuse that was just steps away from being deadly for me and my children.

With that being said, the “I’m glad your alive and appear to be happy moment” happened today. It sucks, really. As much as she did to hurt me, and consequently my children, I feel like the world’s biggest fool for being happy that she hasn’t killed herself yet. Happy that she is around one more day to possibly be there for everyone else in this world that needs her and depends on her.

So the next time you are facing a moment in which you can change the life of the alcoholic you’re close to, just know that there are so many other moments that come with that decision. But if you loved them at all, you’d at least try to capture the moment and lead with your heart into a situation unlike any other you’ve ever faced in your life.

Stay dry!

Police and a Three-Drink Minimum

When I was in elementary school, I rarely saw a lot of alcohol-esque situations in my life. I’d say I have my parents to thank for that. A Coke Zero toast to them, then.

But, the ones that did take place, I can count on one hand. I now know what a blessing that actually is.

My parents divorced at a very young age. My mom, a life-long homemaker, ended up dating a man who enjoyed to have drinks on a regular basis. A Polish man who played the accordion, smoked Pall Malls, and loved a good drink.

My dad, a career police officer, never drank. Well, as far as I knew at the time.

As for my mom’s boyfriend, he always smelled of alcohol and/or cigarettes. It stood out. I could detect it from a great distance. It was more than I could handle on certain days. Let alone the fact that being a young boy all I could think was that this man was trying to be my dad. Of course, he wasn’t. That’s just a childish way of thinking.

However, when the day came where I finally saw my dad have a drink, I lost it.

I watched my dad drink a beer maybe three total times when I was a child. That’s it. One beer. One sitting.
Years later, that sounds sort of nice, huh?!?!

But on that cold winter night at the convenience store when he bought the 32-ounce glass bottle of Budweiser, it was horrifying. All I could think was, “What’s wrong? Why is he drinking? Is he an alcoholic?” It truly scared me.

Well, after my dad feeling bad about that and my mom having to hear all about it from me, we all had a talk and sorted it. I felt silly years later.

However, it’s now been more than 30 years since that happened. My ex-alcoholic has me thinking of booze and cops all over again. Although we’ve been apart for some time now, I can’t help but look at every traffic stop on the side of the road being conducted by an officer. I think to myself, “Is someone hurt? Were they drinking? Is it her? Where are her kids? Hope they aren’t in the car with her?”

It’s sort of weird being so far removed from the dangers of that life now. I haven’t stopped caring about them. But, there really isn’t anything I can do at this point for them. I pray for them. I hope for them. Mostly, I hope someone close to her right now will step up and try to help out. She has many friends who know the reality of this addiction. However, it’s been years of the ongoing addiction and no one has yet to say a word.

What are they afraid of? She’ll unfriend them on Facebook? Wouldn’t they want their friend to be o.k. and not get hurt, not die, and not traumatize her children?

It’s about being your brother’s keeper. I’m not perfect at this. But, I know it’s right. We are all called to lookout for each other. Even people we may not know, but we know they are hurting. It’s human nature. So, if that’s true… why wouldn’t you step up and speak up for someone close to you right this very day?

My mom and dad are long gone now. But the stories remain. They may not have agreed on a lot when they were together. But they did do one thing right… they tried to do what was right in front of the kids. To this day, other than just the stresses of life, me nor my siblings aren’t sure what led to their break-up. We do know that they didn’t traumatize the children with it. Nor did they alienate one another when talking with me and my siblings.

That alone requires a toast.

And with all of this mind, I realize New Year’s Eve is coming up. So, I’ll have a whole new set of police checkpoints to check out and see if this may be the time where rock bottom sets in.

She lost friends, family, employment and I’d imagine much more I don’t know about due to the addiction. None of that meant rock bottom for her. Maybe a police officer with a good heart and the brain to do the right thing will care enough to slap on the handcuffs and start a process that should have happened years ago.

Stay Dry.

13 Months

395 days.
That’s 13 months.

I remember being a kid thinking the days would drag by as I waited for Christmas morning to come. It was as if minutes were as long as days the week before my 16th birthday when I would possibly get a chance to get my driver’s license.

But these past 13 months have been a flash. I still think about the final days with my ex-alcoholic trying to figure out what happened. Trying to understand why it happened. The answer is… I’ll never know.

In these 395 days, I’ve learned so much about myself and the nature of people that perhaps I should thank the person. I wonder if Hallmark makes a greeting card like that. Something like this…

***Between the late binges and multiple drinks, I now take the time to stop and to think…
Each time you got sick and each time that you spewed, makes me ever so thankful that I got to know you.***

Maybe not a best-seller. But, it’s one I’d give a glance.

Some of the lessons I’ve learned, that for some reason, I didn’t learn in the previous years of my time here on Earth are as follows…

1.) People who truly need help won’t always ask for it.
2.) People who truly need help often don’t think they need any at all.
3.) People who truly need help are only going to get help if they want to do that.
4.) Standing up for someone you love and care for doesn’t mean the other person will see it that way. (So don’t expect a thank you of any kind. In fact, you can probably expect something quite the opposite.)
5.) True trials will show a clear picture of the people in your life.
6.) People who are out to feed an addiction will do anything to keep it fed.
7.) Of course, consuming too much alcohol will make you sick. However, the sight of too many bottles of alcohol now makes me sick. (Yes, even unopened and in a store.)

I was once told by my ex in a two-day period when the alcohol ran low in my house and money was tight, “I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but I’m going to have to go get something to drink.” We had no money to spend and bills coming in from all sides. I’d been criticized for spending money to buy a $5 lunch while at work the day before this, and I was the only one working at the time, and now she was ready to do whatever it took to bring more alcohol into the home.

Where I live now is incredibly modest, to say the least. But I have one great thing, a full case of alcohol. Let me explain. When I had absolutely nothing to my name, because there was no way I was going back into that home to get anything, I had this. I had an incredibly small place to live with not a drop of furniture in it. Nothing. It came with a fridge and stove, of course. But nothing more. So, what was my first purchase?

Alcohol.

You may ask why. It’s simple. My kids, who are both in high school, had rarely been in our home without seeing at least one bottle get opened and emptied in the same night and the ex was the only one drinking. There were more empty bottles of wine hanging from the wine rack than I care to remember.

So, for one year, I’ve had a full pack of Jack Daniel’s Lemonade bottles in the bottom of my fridge. Back right corner of the bottom shelf. They stay there. Full and unopened. And every time they visit me, they know the problems of the past aren’t going to show up ever again.

Stay dry.

Praying For An Alcoholic

Every morning, like hippies to a microbrewery, I flock to a prayer list. I know, it’s something usually kids will use to learn how to pray and to not forget people and/or things they want to pray for. However, I’ve had a couple of extremely tough, mentally and physically speaking, years as of late. So the list works well.

Somewhere between praying for the best for my siblings and their families and learning the path I need to take each and every day, I “attempt” to pray for my ex-wife.

She is an alcoholic.

She is violent.

She is abusive.

And I made the decision, sometime before truly figuring all of this out, to allow my children to be close to her.

Knowing what I know now, I would have never had her anywhere around them. But at the time, I was a little too gullible and naive and I thought what was happening was working well.

It wasn’t.

And now, far removed from the situation, I find myself in an interesting place. Trying to pray for her.

Pray for someone who tried to hurt you. Pray for someone who lied about you. Pray for someone who lied about others. Pray for someone who created every distraction under the sun just to avoid facing the truth.

She is an alcoholic.

So, why do I pray for her now after all that’s been done by her? If I don’t, there’s no way I can truly say and believe the words, “I… FORGIVE… YOU.”

It’s easy looking at it now. I can’t be someone I’m not. And although I’ve done my best to hide away all the naive and gullible aspects of my character, I still don’t have a malicious side like others do when they are mad. A side which says, “I have no problem hurting someone.”

So, since I don’t have that kind of hate or anger inside of me naturally, I am praying.

Praying for the chance to be able to say and mean those three little words… “I… FORGIVE… YOU.”

Stay dry.

Stepping On Your Toes

For most of my life, I have had the biggest feet when it comes to my friends and family.

And like most men, I haven’t been the smoothest of people when it comes to being graceful. In other words, from time to time, I’d trip over someone else’s foot. Or, I might have stepped on someone’s toes accidentally.

In all those years of my life leading up to my exposure to an alcoholic, I can never really recall anyone who screamed or shouted at me the way she did the times I would accidentally stub my foot into hers. Now, I’m very sensitive to the issue. So, the second I feel my foot starting to apply pressure to another’s foot, I quickly hop back or pull my foot away. Don’t want my clumsiness to hurt someone.

I remember the quick jump from calmness to hate over the issue when it would happen. For the life of me, I didn’t understand why it warranted that. And after it happened multiple times, I still didn’t get it. I mean sometimes I would barely touch her foot and others I was almost sure I missed her all together. But what ensued was always a 10-20 minute verbal assault about just how dumb and clumsy I was which was always tied together with the statement, “just use some f-ing common sense.”

It wasn’t until today, this very day, that I realized that she would always pour a drink after this happened. I mean, I wonder to this day if even she knew that happened each and every time.

Why today? Well, I have met someone who I’ve been dating for some time now. Someone who has been through a lot of relationship hurt, drama, and just plain nastiness over the past few years herself. However, after being told about her by a true lifelong friend, I began to get to know her. And now, I truly do trust her and together we are learning a lot about relationships and life… all over again.

Today, though, I accidentally stubbed the side of her foot with my huge monstrous foot. It was a situation where we were both sitting and I absent-mindedly did that. And again, I quickly realized I had stepped over too far and very quickly pulled my foot back. I apologized in a huge way. The minute I did that, though, she gave me a look that allowed me to rest easy. A look that said, “Dude, seriously, what’s wrong with you? It wasn’t a big deal.” And because of who this person is, I know to trust that.

Here’s the big deal, though. Although it’s typical for an ex-husband to say an ex-wife was manipulative, this was just one more situation where I realized that my alcoholic was truly making me a reason for her to go to her crutch during that past relationship. Not only that, but it would keep me down and out of the way because I wouldn’t want to offend her any further. So she’d get what she wanted all the way around.

I was being manipulated all that time and truly and honestly didn’t realize it. But, did she realize that’s why she was doing it? I don’t know. I’m guessing she probably did. But I truly can’t say for sure.

From not running an office errand for her in a manner which was not good enough for her to her screaming at me because I would fall asleep around 10 p.m. every night and she treated that me as if I was abandoning her, she knew I’d take that personally and wouldn’t want her to feel that way. So, she’d make it a devastating and earth shattering event.

To this day, I still don’t sleep well. To this day, I feel guilty for going to bed at 10 p.m. To this day, I’m still learning new things about the wrong way I was being treated. The wrong way her kids were being treated. And, the wrong way she was abusing those she loved.

I’m no longer a part of that person’s life. But that mindset still has the capability of being a destructive part of mine. Overly apologetic and quick to think my worth is near bottom. I’m thankful for the good people and good character of those around me now. I’ve been blessed. My hope is that the bad things I’m just now figuring out won’t negatively impact those in my life today.

Stay dry.

46 Hours and Counting: The Timetable of an Alcoholic

It was one year ago tonight.

The longest night of my life.

It was a night that lasted 46 hours.

For the sake of comparisons, my son and daughter were born in the middle of the night. Neither of those nights came close to the depths we reached on this 46-hour night just 12 months ago.

What started as an evening trip to the hospital on a Sunday night for problems with her “medications,” ended in what I’ll never be able to explain to anyone without dropping my head and just mumbling, “what happened?”

To talk about the alcoholism with anyone besides the few people she had approved to know about it would be “treason” as she put it. So, going to the hospital was something that I thought may be a good thing for her recovery. Surely they would be able to see what was going on.

During those 46 hours, I heard her answer questions from nurses and doctors on several occasions about her medical situation and history. Never once did she mention anything about the alcoholism. And, in her and her family’s own words to me before going to the hospital, she didn’t want me sharing this with anyone upon our arrival, either. This was just supposed to continue to stay a secret.

Among her medications was a pair of offerings which were prescribed to help fight alcoholism. Both were taken for only a few days before she stopped using them.  The doctors told her it could make her ill on the front end, but that it would be worth it later. They were the best drugs on the market for just such an addiction. (They also had violent effects if you took alcohol while on the medicines.)

In spite of the fact that these prescriptions were sitting out on the table in her emergency room, then regular hospital room during those 46 hours, for everyone to see, she still continued to not acknowledge the existence of any type of alcoholism or problem with alcohol.

However, after spending the night in a hospital room floor just so I could stay nearby, a doctor came in the next day and asked a series of questions. A doctor who apparently knew what he was facing from the first moment. He asked questions for several minutes building a conversation flow with her before slipping in, “And…. how long have you been an alcoholic?”

I froze.

I thought to myself, “Maybe this will be the time that the right things will happen and she’ll get the help that may be needed.”

Well, I was wrong. Things got horribly worse. It ended in me being threatened by her, her family, and being without a home for an extended period of time.  But those details of what happened in the final hours of that experience aren’t important right now.

What is important? It’s that somebody saw what was going on. That it wasn’t so hidden and under wraps as she thought it was. I was not alone. Even better was that there was someone else willing to stick their hands in there, get dirty, and say, “Hey, you have a problem. Let’s deal with it.” No fear of what she’d say or do. Just… caring. Nothing more.

Being alone in the struggle within our home for some of the time left me with a real feeling of solitude. But now, a medical professional could easily see the problem. I wasn’t alone and it wasn’t just something that everyone was keeping hush-hush. Now it was out there.

Sometimes, just knowing you aren’t alone in a battle makes it easier to go through. I think the one factor that made it difficult for me at first was that I was continually told by expert after expert that I was going to have to find a way to separate the addiction from the person.

Well, guess what? When the addict is trying to hurt you on all fronts, it’s really hard to do that. When it’s in your face and blaming you for everything, separating the two is pretty much impossible. Well, it was for me, at least.

But now, someone else was there to face it, too. Maybe this time it would be someone she respected enough to take it seriously. Perhaps he would be just what was needed to show her that so many people care about her and that no one was trying to hurt her. That people were trying to see the good inside.

It wasn’t enough. The steps taken shortly after by the specialists were shocking. All in her best interest I was told in the end. But in the end, in spite of reasons why they chose the treatment options they did, it was truly the beginning of “the end” for us.

Know this if you are going through this with anyone in your life. It’s one of the loneliest feelings in the world trying to help your partner go through something like this. And, doing this all while trying not to bring in others so she doesn’t feel embarrassed or humiliated can be an almost insurmountable task.

It was one year ago.

It was longest night of my life.

Before that night, every night had the potential of being an all-nighter. Whether it be one involving caring for her after a night of drinks or simply a middle-of-the-night nightmare that rocked us both awake and kept her in a disconnected state for several hours.  Often times sitting in the middle of the bed shaking, mumbling to herself, and not even acknowledging what was going on around her.

Tonight, on this anniversary, I’m left thinking to myself as I type, “would I have done it all again?” Seriously. Would I have really shown this kind of concern or compassion knowing how bad she was hurting but just didn’t want to change it?

I’d hope I would.

But you can only go through so many 46-hour nights before you start to realize that others involved are just as important and you have to just go by what you believe is right so those who need to be protected truly are kept safe.

P.S. This includes you.

Stay dry.