Crazy in the Little Things

Last night I awoke to find our bed half empty. (I was in it, Mr. M was not.)

In his place was a long, body-shaped lump of pillows. It literally looked like when kids stuff their beds so their parents don't know they have snuck out. Mr. M had vacated to the couch some time in the evening - or maybe never even came to bed at all?

He says he got up in the middle of the night for a snack (I never remember him coming to bed in the first place - doesn't mean it didn't happen).

He laid down for a few and felt so comfortable he fell asleep and stayed there.

I want to paint a balanced picture, so I will say that, recovering from his rotator cuff surgery is brutal stuff. He is still uncomfortable a LOT of the time. Finding comfortable sleep is elusive.

Also, about 18 months ago, he has gnarly spine surgery... he was good for about 6 months and then has gotten in more and more pain. Currently, his back hurts and his leg is going numb.

The pillows in the bed - which are like a third person in the bed! - support his arma and leg and are an ATTEMPT to keep him more comfortable.

MY angst in this though is will our lives ever be "normal"? (Whatever "normal" is.)

I wake up and my husband is not in bed - is that normal?

I go to bed around 11:30PM. Mr. M comes to bed anywhere from 1:30AM to 3:00AM, if at all.

I usually get up from 7:00-8:15AM. Mr. M wakes up at 10AM - 11AM every day (he schedules his work so he can do this). - In his defense, he is a SUPER hard worker when he is sober... he works his butt off then comes home and cleans and does repairs and yard work etc. I am MUCH "lazier" than he is.

It is anxiety producing that he doesn't have a schedule and that it is so opposite mine and that I will wake up and he is not in bed - is he drinking? Doing cocaine? Or is he just legitimately in pain and looking for some confort?

Maybe a large percentage of the time it is something benign... but just often enough, it is life shattering, so I have lower and lower tolerance for this "crazy".

I am having a tough time even in the little things. I am not loving living with Mr. M. And I am sure he is not loving living with me.

We are crazy even in the little things...

Friends

I just got an anonymous comment on an old post that I thought something she said was worth delving into.  She said "I have been married 20 years, and my husband has been a drunk for the past 8. The loneliness, loss of friends, financial meltdown, anxiety, and sense of rejection ...took their toll on me.  I tried to develop a circle of female friends but the ones I made ended up relocating."


I thought of friends -  same-sex friends - these are SUCH a huge part of recovery and healing and not being alone.  
I think SHAME can keep us from inviting others into our world.  I understand the embarrassment and the shame.  I understand we might want to protect our spouse from the negative opinions of others.  I used to tell myself that when he got sober and this was all "in the past", I didn't want people to judge him and not want to be friends with us.  (This was before I experienced Mr. M's recurring cycle of relapse... and that he might never actually BE sober for more than a few years here and a few years there... I deluded myself into thinking it would "end".  And hey, it still could, but it if the saying "The greatest indicator of future behavior is past behavior" is true, then it is MORE likely he will keep relapsing.)  Also, I was afraid people wouldn't want their kids to be friends with my kids or come over to our house.  I was afraid that people would judge ME since I was married to him... like we were ALL "alcoholic losers" (how I thought they would view us because so many people don't understand the disease).  AA has a saying that "You are only as sick as your secrets".  I deeply believe this and have tried to live by it for MOST of the last 24 years.  AA is an anonymous program -   Mr. M goes by his first name and last initial in the program.  Celebrities are not supposed to say they are in AA.  However, and might be a point of contention and many might disagree with me, and that's OK; I do not have to keep Mr. M's secrets.  He has abandoned us over and over again.  I have needed a lot of help over the years - financial, emotional, spiritual, physical.  If people didn't know our struggles, they wouldn't know I needed help.  I would suffer alone and so would my kids.  It has been EXTREMELY helpful to have people bring dinners for a couple weeks here and there.  One year people anonymous dropped Christmas at our doorstep (decorations, a tree, gift cards etc.).  People have done toilet paper and milk market runs for me when I was desperate.  I try to be kind and compassionate in how I present Mr. M's struggles.  I am after all still married to him and he IS my kids' dad.  I don't want to destroy him in everyone's eyes... I just try to let them in on our struggles.  I think it has been helpful to have the kids see people's love and care and compassion.
Yes, we HAVE been judged by some, I am sure.  And yes, I am sure some people probably DIDN'T let their kids come over to our house to play or spend the night.  But overall, I have mostly experienced GRACE and love from people.  Many are eager to understand the disease element and ask LOTS of good questions when I give them the chance.  (I ALWAYS point them to the Big Book of AA.)  I can't tell you how many spouses and parents and siblings and children of addicts have called me for help over the years.  Mostly, they don't love what I have to say... they want advice on how to fix their alcoholic.  (I try not to laugh!)  I always point them in the direction of Al-Anon.  Period.  They usually don't go.  That's ok.  They will when they get sick and tired of being sick and tired.


That is what I would tell anonymous; get to an al-anon meeting.  Period.  You will find life and friends in those rooms and yes, a few special people might move away, but the FELLOWSHIP can be your family and the Fellowship as a whole will not leave you.  You will begin to feel at home and "part of" in those rooms if you "keep coming back".


Friendships are invaluable. I have found SO MUCH LIFE in my friendships.  Laughter and community are life-giving.  We were not meant to suffer alone.
Mr. M keeps trying to convince me to move to the Caribbean with him.  This sounds glorious on so many levels.  But when I really think about it, I can't ever do it.  He is deluding himself by thinking if he pulls a "geographical", as the program calls it (moving to get away from yourself - never realizing that "wherever you go, there you are") things will suddenly be better.  He thinks living in a favorite vacation destination will mean he will have the peace and joy and rest he experiences on vacation, every single day of real life.  ("But Honey, you won't be on vacation... we will have to work and pay bills, and cook and clean...").  I can't leave because he is living in 'magical thinking'.  I also can't leave because I cannot leave my support system.  I cannot let him isolate me.  
Currently, I walk 3-5 miles almost every day with a friend: ML & KD on mondays, DH on tuesdays, DP on wednesdays, JD on thursdays, SA on fridays, KB on the weekends occasionally.  These are not mindless chatting walks... these are wonderful, high-caliber friends who are honest and real and full of love and wisdom.  Most of them have been through deep personal struggles from a cheating husband to a child getting assaulted to children struggling with mental illness etc.  Two of them are therapists (getting their masters and hours in mid-life).  All are great listeners and honest share-ers.
I am in a Bible study group 1x a week with earnest, loving, honest women.
I am in a "whole hearted" group 1x a month with another group of women; pastors' wives, therapists, authors, speakers - all of whom have known DEEP pain.
I have different levels of connectedness to each of them but I value every one.
I will not let Mr. M take that away from me.
I choose to not live in fantasy... "reality is my friend" (as one of my therapist friends would say).  And reality is that I cannot trust my husband enough to leave my support system right now - if ever. 


I KNOW friendships can be painful and we can sometimes be bitterly disappointed when people let us down.  (One of my longest & dearest friends seems to always be in crisis when I am having big family moments.  For example, she missed Hacker's wedding and she just missed Bub's graduation party.  She let me down and that is tremendously sad.  At the same time, I know she loves me the best she knows how and I also know that she would give me the shirt off her back, even if it harmed her.  But she is a HUMAN and she is flawed - as am I - and she WILL let me down... and sadly, I will let her down.)  But it is STILL worth investing in and continuing to pursue.  We were created to do life together.  So Anonymous, don't give up. And get yourself to an Al-Anon meeting.  And then another one.  And then another one...

Last Nerve

Mr. M is in pain and under slept (due to pain). He is frustrated and angry about his injuries. He is scared that they will not heal well and quickly. He is frustrated being so dependent and not being able to drive. He is baffled that I am angry/hurt/scared over his accident. He is mad I will not give him more sympathy and compassion. He has no clue really why I would think I would need any sympathy and compassion too... I mean sheesh! I didn't get in an accident! He is walking around with this pissed off chip on his shoulder. He is simply a BEAR to have in the house. He is on my last nerve. I am regretting letting him be here, but I didn't see a ton of alternative... and he is NOT drinking (yet... although I suspect that is on the horizon).... and it WAS an "accident". And yet, I cannot muster up a ton of sympathy and I AM exhausted (emotionally) and sad and scared and in many ways - Done.

Last night he and Drummer had a big blow up at midnight.

Drummer has some anger issues. He is very explosive and aggressive. (Drummer is living her this year, working and saving money before he gets married - don't even get me started about my concerns about his anger issues in a marriage - ugh!).

They were screaming at each other. Drummer threw a thing or two. Drummer ended up storming out. He was yelling in the front yard at midnight. (Can you say "white trash"?) A lot of anger was spewing out about Dad's drinking and his anger about that.

Mr. M said he is packing his bags and leaving in the morning (now today). That really WOULD be better. Let's see if he really does it.

I have such mixed feeling about this.

If I really picture my life without him I am so torn.

PROS

Less stress,

Less fear,

Less hurt,

Less turmoil,

Less abandonment.

I am on my own and I know it... no delusions of partnership.

Free to find someone to love again (hopefully).

More peace in the home.

CONS

I will be totally alone. (Not I am 75% alone... but that 25% must have some value or I would be gone.)

I don't know how to repair all the stuff Mr. M does... I will have to learn or pay money and hire someone.

I will be 100% on my own financially with no illusion of help. (When sober and living at home, Mr. contributes well.)

No one to share the burden of parenting with occasionally (when he is reliable).

When (if) Mr. M sobers up, he will BEG me to rethink and come back... he will look good and act great and be adorable and cheerful and be the man I always WANTED to be married to. Everything in my will respond to this... I will be DEVASTATED again to have to say "no" to what I wanted all along. I will have to FORCE myself to remember the drinking, the abandonment, the anger, the fear. But I will be irrationally hopeful that THIS TIME he will stay sober and I will actually get what I always wanted in this relationship...

What if no one loves me again?? I love love. I love being married. I love hugging and holding hands (not to mention other stuff :) I didn't want to be single. I didn't want to be alone. (I am so angry and sad to be in this place.

Isn't it weird that this dirt bike accident - not even alcohol related - spun me into this place? Yet, it makes sense because it is highlighting the selfishness and abandonment and self-absorption that is here even when he is not drinking.

6 Weeks or a Year?

Today while at the beach (yes, it has been 80 degrees this New Year's week in Southern CA!!!) Mr. M said he couldn't believe he only had 6 weeks sober. He said it feels like a year.

I kinda get what he means and he IS doing well, but I will confess, it does NOT seem like a year to me!

I am so glad he is feeling strong and confident and good and like this is all behind him, but I am still in shock and traumatized.

I am grieving like someone died.

I am not trying to be melodramatic.

I mean, he only relapsed and relapse is part of recovery.

I know this and yet his relapses are the destruction of our family.

As I have previously outlined:

He doesn't work. (Therefore he doesn't earn ANY income so 100% of the burden is on me.)

He is non-functional.

He is scary and destructive (breaking things, yelling, peeing and vomiting on things etc.).

He doesn't pay his bills.

He drives drunk.

He drinks SO much, so heavily that his liver is disintegrating. (He drinks over a liter of straight vodka a day.)

He drinks as if trying to drown or poison something inside him.

There is not pretending he is a "party guy" or "just hanging out with the guys".

He drinks (guzzles) alone.

When he drinks I do not know if he will ever stop... and IF he does, will it be 3 years from now? (That is his norm.)

When he drinks, I don't know if he will live.

When I dropped him off at the motel back in mid-october, I drove away sobbing my GUTS out because I believed I might never hear from him/see him again. And we didn't even get to say an actual 'goodbye' because he was so drunk all he cared about was getting into his room and getting more booze.

I am sobbing hysterically driving away and he is stumbling to his motel room with barely a glance back. (When he checked in with me each day to tell me he was still alive, he was clear he did not want help yet, but wanted to keep drinking.)

This happened a mere 6 weeks ago.

He is still not living at home (we are talking about the 90 day mark - as he is currently doing "90 meetings in 90 days"), he is still barely able to contribute to supporting the family because not he has his OWN separate rent to pay.

So no... I am sorry if it still seems tremendously fresh and doesn't seem anywhere CLOSE to a year yet.

I don't want to torture Mr. M, but nor can I lie, minimize, or enable. I am broken-hearted, tired, and frightened. I don't want to do this any more. I don't want to live waiting for the relapse that can be part of recovery.

He acted all "butt hurt" that he had to go home tonight (I had let him stay a couple nights over the holiday). I am butt hurt.

I am hurt he got drunk and left us alone again.

I am hurt he doesn't live here.

I am hurt my husband has to leave every evening and sleep somewhere else.

I am hurt (an embarrassed) that Girlie had 6 friends spend the night for New Years Eve and she thought he was leaving without saying good bye and asked "Daddy, are you leaving??? I thought you were staying here!" in front of her friends (who already KNOW what is going on, but still; humiliating! I feel like we are teenagers in an illicit relationship and he has to get home by curfew or something).

So as I crawl in bed, alone... again (and again and again and again ad infinitum), I know how many times I have cried myself to sleep night after night and if Mr. M wants to know something that feels like a year, I can tell him THAT feels like a year...
xo

Therapy Day 12-20

I didn't cry in therapy day but I should have.

I had feelings come up but I didn't want to go there and Dr. didn't push. I don't know if he didn't notice and see or if he was being 'easy' on me cuz he could tell I didn't want to go there and I had a flat tire and he didn't want to push me over the edge.

I am embarrassed to tell you that while turning into the parking lot for therapy, I turned too early (to quickly get out of fast moving traffic) and hit the curb with my front tire. This scared me and obviously harmed the car and I was still in the road with my rear hanging out in fast-moving traffic, so I just kept going and so also slammed the back tire into the curb too. (In my defense, I thought I had cleared the curb and didn't think that my rear wheel would hit it, plus, I was freaked out.) I hobbled into my parking spot and got out to check. Sure enough a BIG HOLE in my tire and completely & utterly & hopelessly flat. I could see any obvious other things wrong like bent rims etc. I do not realize to check the rear tire though.

I called Mr. M... he mocked me a little. He said to call after therapy. He had a job to do and maybe we would both be done around the same time and could figure out a solution together.

Back story - when Mr. M was DEEP in the drink, I had take my car to get the tires rotated and the alignment done (I get really proactive and "fixy" when I am in crisis... trying to order my world in weird wasy). They asked about the "key" to get our lug nuts off. I had never heard of this (this is Mr. M's arena). They found it and all was fine. Except last week the mechanic said they couldn't fine the key... the tire people hadn't put it back. I called them.. of course, they didn't have it and had NO IDEA what I was talking about. So I have been procrastinating on going to the dealership to GET the freakin' key! So OF COURSE now I have a flat tire and can't change it without the key!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (And the nearest dealership - also of course - doesn't have one, so we have to go to a much further one.)

I go into therapy and Dr empathizes with me and how difficult this is.

Weirdly, I say, it is not that tough. It feels just like a normal (albeit frustrating) life circumstance. Because Mr. M is sober and can help me, I do not have to do it alone... we are a team and it's gonna be a pain in the ass, but it is just a little annoyance in the scope of life.

On the other hand, if Mr M was drunk and I was alone, this would probably put me over the edge (interesting food for though for me later). I would be devastated, overwhelmed and would feel my aloneness profoundly.

And yes, thinking about how I am a hair's breadth away from that being the case RIGHT NOW, that is a scary place to always live: if I call Mr. M for help right now, will he be drunk or sober? Will he be in any condition to care about someone besides himself? Will he be ABLE to help me or will I be alone?

Relaying the entire above paragraph to Dr. had me where I could've been in tears in a millisecond. I was feeling it. (WHY don't I let myself GO there??????? That is the whole stinkin' POINT, for land's sake! - I am so disappointed.)

That's all I wanted to say.

Except I WILL add that the rear tire had a huge hole in it too and Mr. M thought that was just hilarious. He called later in the night and said his pals at the AA meeting all wanted to pass on their admiration at my commitment to following through! (HAHAHA! Thanks a LOT guys!)

So after waiting for three ours for my little sister to run to the further dealership for the key and for Mr. M to finally get there, I STILL ended up having to call a tow truck because we only have ONE spare :/

And on top of that, it had to be a flat bed type which takes longer.

And by the time we got there, the tire place was closed, so we still have to deal with it in the morning. So, not over yet.

But it was sooooooooooooo nice to have Mr. M there and to do it together and to be able to have help and not be alone.

Does that make me WEAK for enjoying it so much?

Should I be more self-sufficient?

(Because these are the judgmental things my inner critic scolds me with.)

Consistent Inconsistency

I feel bi-polar or something.

My emotions are all over the place.

I sometimes question myself and wonder if I am over-reacting to Mr. M's disease?

A lot of people live with alcoholic husbands in alcoholic marriages.

I am not alone or unique.

Do I need to go to nuclear options like divorce and asking him to move out and the intense level of grief and heartbreak I feel?

Maybe my expectations are too high?

What is my value & worth in this whole thing? Do I deserve more? Or is this the best I can hope for?

And where does my Higher Power figure into all this? - Do I get to decide what I want to do or is this some kind of 'test' or 'challenge'?... Am I too focused on my comfort and happiness in this life, when I could just be finding joy & peace in my suffering and trials?

One minute all I can see is my grief and loss and I take Mr M back into my heart and bed after ONE WEEK sober, and embrace him and can only see how much I love him and do not WANT to do life without him.

Then he gets all cozy and starts taking it all for granted and making assumptions... he starts demanding or bickering and cleaning the house (as if I am a failed housekeeper in his absence - which I am :/

I start thinking of how he starts drinking and ABANDONS us. (Lest I forget what this really is.)

How he pees his pants, saturating the whole couch.

He breaks things.

He vomits on things.

He runs into things and falls over.

He drives drunk.

He doesn't work.

He doesn't provide.

He is not even "semi" functional.

When Mr. M drinks, it is cataclysmic.

If I go nuclear in my reaction, I think it is because he goes nuclear in his drinking.

I think it would be harder and "grayer" in the questions I ask myself above - if he were more functional... but he is not. Living with him drunk is truly not an option, so that helps.

So the last few days, I have been feeling angry and sad.

I feel like when the going gets tough, Mr. M gets going.

And again and again for the past 24 years, I am left alone with 4 kids, 4 mortgages, 1 dog, 4 cars, college apps, angry kids bickering, discipline (I just had to fight it out with Bub at 11:30PM because he wants to shave his head, vacuum the hair, and do laundry in the middle of the night on a school night when the rest of us are just turning out the lights for bed - he thinks I am out of my mind so I had to threaten to take away his beloved iphone, this sent him into a complete meltdown of tears about how HE has been the one to step up to the plate during dad's absence! really???), bills, home & car maintenance, working and dealing with clients, emotional trauma of Drummer arguing with his soon-to-be fiancee, Girlie's driver's permit tests (studying and failing and the TEARS and then studying and PASSING and now having to DRIVE with a new teen driver - UGH!), shopping or and paying for all Christmas gifts, ordering (and paying for) Girlie's letterman's jacket, designing, ordering and paying for Bub's yearbook dedication page, Bub's graduation is coming etc. etc.

Mr. M just gets to CHECK out while I run and pay for things single-handedly.

And then he sobers up for 10 minutes and gets to waltz back in and enjoy all the fruits of MY labor - until he wants to fall off the deep end again!

I get jealous and sometimes I want a turn to lose my mind and give up and throw in the towel and run away from home and know that someone ELSE will pick up the pieces.

Now, please don't misunderstand me, I could NEVER allow myself to do that AND I wouldn't truly want to. Being a mom and having my family is my greatest joy in life.

But sometimes.. sometimes... I am tired and sad and tired of doing this alone - or being frightened that at any minute I will be left to do it alone.

And that realization and fear is getting harder and harder to live with. (Hence the gnarly feelings I am having below, fantasizing that MAYBE there is someone on the planet who will love me and want to STAY and do this journey WITH me.)

Mr. M wants to be forgiven and have a clean slate.
He wants me to focus on the good times and not let the bad out-weigh the good in my memories.

And when he is good, he IS pretty darn fabulous (my friends have jokingly moaned "Why can't OUR husbands be recovering alcoholics!!!???"). Like right now, he has spent 2 FULL days Christmas shopping with me; humoring me, running from store to ridiculous store in search of that perfect gift, carrying bags like a pack mule, and yes, PAYING, because he is working and when he is working and sober, he is the most generous guy you will ever meet. He'd give you the shirt off his back. (I am more fearful and therefore stingy and greedy - "UM... don't give that guy the shirt off your back... WE need it!!!"- Side note: I think I have always been fearful around money, but of course with Mr. M's consistent inconsistency, I have gotten more and more terrified.)

That is me any given day. Confused. Up & down. All over the place. Borderline crazy.

History Lesson

This go around, I have definitely felt a lot more "done". I feel tired and am finally beginning to truly SEE just how alone Mr. M has left me (and the kids) for so many years off and on for the last 23 1/2 years.

We were married for 3 years before he started using.

I was new and naive and in denial (plus hus drug use was sporadic at first then slowly built to CRAZY) so it took me 3 years to "catch" him.

He was in and out of rehabs and our home and relapses for FOUR YEARS. (At one point, he lived 3 hours away for 6 months... I would drive up with the kids and visit him there, staying in Motel 6). I - along with 4 kids - had to get on welfare and food stamps. I HAD Girlie on government funded Medi-Cal.

He got sober in a 12 step program when Girlie was 2 (early 1996).

He relapsed again but I didn't know it for quite a while. Yes, there were signs and symptoms, but again, denial, naivete, stupidity, wishful thinking, all stopped me from truly seeing what I was seeing (from adding up 1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1=8).

I think he actually had between 6-7 years sober then started back slowly, secretly, controlled for quite a while... then it started to escalate. I "caught" him sometime around 7/06.

He was in & out of places and out of the house for most of the next 2 years. He got sober in spring of 2008.

He had to get a year sober before I allowed him home (it was closer to 11 months).

So in 2009, he moved back in. We got about 2 1/2 years with him before he relapsed... but honestly, he started using pain killers for his back in November 2010 (from 11/10-2/11) and I believe started on the downward spiral toward relapse then. So we really got about 18 good months with him.

Wow! This puts it in perspective.

This has been a long, hard road.

And lest I forget and think I wasn't this done with my alcoholic marriage last time, it was a good reminder to go back a read this and this.

*sigh*

Asking Him to Leave

Mr M started drinking on Sunday and it went from bad to worse FAST.

AA says it is a "progressive disease", meaning it is always in progression. It doesn't go back and start at square one, it picks up where it left off.

So Mr. M couldn't hide it and secretly drink for months or years like he used to be able to... he couldn't work and play-act like he used to.

He was "skid row bum" drunk within 24 hours.

He was weeping and telling our kids all his regrets about raising them.

He repeated his stories 5, 6, 7 times each.

He slurred his words.

He reeked.

He got angry, belligerent, and aggressive.

At 3Am, he picked up the coffee table and made as if to throw it at me (after throwing a bag of chips down the hall at me, flinging them all throughout the hall). When Drummer (age 21) came in and tried to intervene (because dad was load and angry and it woke him from a sound sleep), Mr. M turned on him and started kind of lunging at him and threatening him. Drummer left the house and ran down the street. I calmed Mr. M down by reasoning that he should be proud that Drummer was trying to protect me, his mom. Mr. M kind of went for it and calmed down. This was all on night TWO!

He proceeded to stumble down the hall and run into walls, get up and down repeatedly during the night, mumbling, thrashing about, crying, complaining, SCREAMING and groaning with pain in his stomach, eating everything in the fridge and cupboards at all hours. He PEED HIS PANTS on the sofa and Bub (18) saw it and burst into tears.

Mr M went into the backyard to kick off his wet pants then proceeded to walk around naked then entering the kitchen and eating a meal naked. He eventually tried to put on fresh underpants but kept falling over and putting 2 legs in one hole. I eventually offered to help to which he grudgingly responded "Yea, please".

I told him this was not good for the kids and would he please leave and go get a motel room and do his drinking. He told me to F**k myself and that it was HIS house too... he is on the deed... he helps pay for it. He told me to call the "F-ing cops" because what are they going to do;

"Mr M, are you drunk?"

"Yep! And there is not an f-ing thing you can do about it... I am a grown man, drunk in my own house... so f**k off, Pig."

The next morning, when he sobered up a little, before he embarked on the day's drinking, he felt a little bad and said he would leave. I was relieved. I left to therapy thinking we would deal with that when I returned. When I came back, he was three-sheets-to-the-wind (is that saying??? Is it "two sheets"?) and back to telling me I could F**k myself and that it was HIS house too... he is on the deed... he helps pay for it. Call the "F-ing cops" because what are they going to do:

"Mr M, are you drunk?"

"Yep! And there is not an f-ing thing you can do about it... I am a grown man, drunk in my own house... so f**k off, Pig."

And so it goes.

So the NEXT day when he woke up and said he would leave, I had him pack his bags and go right then. He started to walk down the street, but I knew he would just come back later that night and I didn't want that. I had his car keys - confiscated to prevent drunk driving so he would either have to go on foot or I would drive him. I drove him down to a fleabag motel about 20 minutes south. He got out of the car and checked in and I drove away, leaving him to drink.

Possibly to drink himself to death.

Dogs Bark and...

It always used to take me a long time to see, realize, admit, Mr. M was drinking again. I SO did not want it to be true, but ever since I have my "Oprah Epiphany", I believe myself and not the lying alcoholic. In the past I had been SO willing to think myself crazy and believe HIM over me. But now, I believe ME.

I saw the behaviors leading up to his falling off the wagon. I saw them coming. I pointed out my concern. I offered support, love, and help. He wanted none of it. He was on a collision course for a relapse. Seeing it coming means nothing really because I was powerless to prevent it. It is like having your leg stuck somehow in the railroad track and although you SEE the train barreling down on you, you can do NOTHING to get out of the way.

I feel betrayed and abandoned and believe it or not, I feel SHOCKED. I am not "surprised" per se, but I am still shocked. I have been able to forgive him and give a clean slate and own my own contributions to our dysfunctional patterns and to live as if we are BOTH the issue so that I can forgive him and we can live as 2 equals and move forward without bitterness and"owing". I have HAD to live as if I did not think he would relapse again. Even though it was always a lurking fear, I put it away from me, sealed up tight.

I shouldn't be shocked because I know the old saying "Dogs bark. Drunks drink." Period. And yet...

And yet...

My Drinking Part 2

Update/follow up to "My Drinking" part 1, click here.

I drink now. But I've reigned it in since my original foray into it and all my concerns. I probably have a drink now once every few months.

A lot of my drinking was related to my social choices. I was hanging out with FUN people who like to drink and drink a lot (and possibly unrelated, are not church/faith friends, but kids' sports friends - notoriously a big drinking crowd). they made drinking look fun and enticing. I was tired of being alone and not having fun. I wanted to be a "part of" (always on of my big issues). And I am not great at moderation in anything I like.

I stopped hanging out with that crowd (I believe God removed it from me or me from it). My kids stopped playing on their club sports teams. Mr. M came home. I stopped having endless hours to hang out. I wasn't going to leave him to go drink. he couldn't very well come along and watch the rest of us drink. So it just fizzled.

My kids don't/didn't like to see me drink. Mr. M obviously hated it. Mr. M and I are together a LOT and I wasn't going to drink around my alcoholic husband.

So on rare occasion, when I am with a couple girlfriends and no hubbies and no kids, I may have a margarita or a glass of wine. This is a rare occurrence.

So, while I am no longer sober and do not need to be, I also do not really drink.

Interesting. Interesting.

Mr. M Moves In

It has been a LONG 3 years.

Because that is such an understatement, I am going to say it again.

It has been a long 3 years.

And actually longer than that.

I just found OUT that Mr. M was drinking 3 years ago but he had been drinking for a couple years before I found out.

So, it's been a long 5+ years!

I told Mr. M he could move back in when he got a year sober and finished his 4th & 5th steps:

#4  - Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves
#5 - Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs

Well, he got his year sober and did steps 1-5.

So he moved back in.

The transition didn't happen over night though.

When he had several months sober, he started spending one night at home.  Then after a couple more months, it was 2 nights.  Eventually we hit 3 and then even 4... he would spend the whole weekend.  So we didn't go from cold turkey to moving in.  

But I was surprised to find that it was still nice to have those couple days a week as a "pressure release valve".  Getting away from each other was nice and a way to keep us in the "honeymoon" phase of his recovery.

When he moved back in, all bets were off.

He suddenly wanted his end table back.

He took up half the bed and wrestled away the sheets.

He took back half the closet.

He started bitching about my messiness (he is the neatnik of the family).

We started marriage counseling (we need it!!!).

We were doing pretty darn well, in my humble opinion and it was all good until THE DIET.

Calorie counting, hunger, detoxing from bad eating (and diet cola) and trying to be a loving married couple do not go together.

More on THE DIET coming soon.

Midnight Fight

I am feeling sad these days. Kind of just a dark cloud sitting on my heart. I find myself missing Mr. M when he is at work or when it is not one of his 'sleepover' nights (yet scared and dreading him moving back in when he has his 1 year sobriety birthday in a little more than a month ~ yikes!).

I call him and sound all sappy... and he has a bit of trouble with this because he takes it personally. I must be sad because he is such a terrible person and if he hadn't been a drunk and ruined my life, I wouldn't be sad. So it is hard. Do I not call him at all because he can't handle it? Do I call him and slap a fake happy face on? Do I call and still just be sad and bring him down? Tough call.

More later... I had to publish post and go do a few pressing things (you know, the tyranny of the urgent)... I will log on soon and finish.
xo

I'm back and changing gears.

Mr. M spent the night last night as he does each week.
We got in a big fight at 5:30AM this morning.
We have been doing so well... we have not been fighting much. We have been getting along. (Although new teen Girlie would disagree. She says "All you and Dad do is fight." I said "Really? I feel like we have not been fighting that well and doing really well." She said "Nope. All you do is fight." So I tried to just HEAR her - I am in therapy, after all - "So you feel like all we do is fight?" To which she replied "No. I don't FEEL like all you do is fight... I KNOW all you do is fight.")

This morning one of the kids woke up early panicking that a history book was in Dad's car when they have homework to do. From my bed, in the dark, I lifted my head and groggily parented: "If you had done your homework after school yesterday instead of watching TV, you would have known that and we could have done something about that."

The weeping commenced "I NEED to get it done!!!"

Parenting from the bed in the dark continued "I know... that's frustrating."

You know the drill.

At this point Mr. M was awakened (GASP, NO!... the horror!)... he was surly and grumpy that his slumber was disturbed.

I was not apologetic.

If anything, I was a little mad.

After all, MY sleep was disturbed too. But sometimes that's what being a parent looks like. It is disturbing and uncomfortable. Kids have needs at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes they have bad dreams at 3AM and want to climb into your bed and then proceed to roll and kick and flail in your bed all night long and you wake feeling like you have been on the losing end of a prize fight and someone has poured sand in your eye sockets. Sometimes they barf all over their beds and themselves at 1AM and you need to get up and give them a bath and change their sheets. Sometimes they get chicken pox and can't sleep at all because they are so itchy and you have to stay up all night long watching Disney movie after Disney movie on the sofa for 12 straight hours. Sometimes they spend the night at a friend's house and are scared in the middle of the night and you have to drive over and get them.

I thought of 21 years of parenting in the middle of the night and how rarely he had been there for so much of it. How much I did all by myself. How alone I was. And then the NERVE of him complaining because his sleep was a little disturbed by me parenting our child at 5AM!

So it escalated and in his angry, self-righteous storming around, he accidentally knocked over a lamp in trying to turn it on and accidentally smooshed our 10 lb. dog who was under the covers in bed (heehee). The dog yelped/cried and this infuriated him. WHY IS THE DOG IN OUR BED???!? WHY IS THE DOG SUCH A BABY?! He grabbed the dog out of the bed and dropped her on the floor. He is yelling at this point and stomping around and dropping F-bombs left and right. I tell him to leave and he says "gladly" and leaves.

Now, this is a tough situation because no argument in an alcoholic marriage is just about that argument. As you just read, even the smallest, most insignificant argument has a lifetime of history in it.

Was I in the wrong? - Should I not have asked him to leave? If he lived here full-time, I couldn't have asked him to leave. (Can you see why I am nervous to have him move back in?) Am I in the wrong for asking him to leave in the first place? I was mad... that's OK. Feelings are feelings. But was I wrong for allowing all those hurt feelings from 20 years of marriage to enter into the argument?

Was he? - What is his part? Obviously, he over-reacted. But, in fairness, he was dead asleep and got abruptly woken up to arguing and crying and lights coming on. But he was ONLY concerned with HIS sleep and HIS precious rest. Did I even enter in? Have I ever????

Input welcome.

Plus, I owe a Therapy update soon.

Weak Faith

HAHAHA!

This wife of an alcoholic finds HER faith to be much stronger in the winter too!

I LOVE this cartoon.

I wish it wasn't so true.

But if you can't beat it, laugh at it!!!!!!!

hahahahahahahaha

Distant Land Part 2

Another moving quote (pg.218) from The Distant Land of My Father by Bo Caldwell.

This is why literature is an art.  It speaks to each of us where we are.  As the wife of an alcoholic husband and the daughter of a workaholic father, this speaks to me on many different levels.

In this first part, I identify with Anna, the young teenage girl and all her mixed up, crazy emotions.

I tried to think what to tell her, how to explain what was wrong without alarming her.  I tried to think logically, to be calm.  But finally I just blurted everything out.

"I cry all the time and some days I hate school and some days I love it and my friends are nice but they hurt my feelings and I don't like the way i look and I feel so lonely sometimes and its not your fault and I don't know what I am doing wrong - " I stopped for a moment and looked at her to see if she was alarmed or frightened or disgusted.  But she just looked worried and like she loved me, so I gave in and told her what I was afraid of.  "I think something's wrong with me."  And I began to sob.

In this second part, I identify with the Mother, Eve; the powerlessness, the aching desire to offer your child something, the anger, the love.

My mother smiled, but in a way that was so gentle that it gave me hope.  "Oh Anna," she said, in the same way  she'd said it since I was little, and she just held me for a few minutes, rocking me.  When my crying had slowed, she said "Nothing's wrong with you.  You're not crazy, you're not sick."...

..."I took a few breaths, trying to be calm "Are you sure?"  I asked...

... "Your father is making a terrible mistake by not returning," she said.  "And there is nothing I can do about it.  I can tell you he'll regret it for the rest of his life.  He's missing out on the best thing in the world."  She looked at me.  "And that's you."...

..."Don't forget that: this is his mistake.  The fact that he hasn't come home is no reflection on you.  Its just evidence of his bad judgement."  She looked at me evenly.  "Which, unfortunately, is something that we can't control."

As parents, we CAN'T make it all OK for our kids.

We can't un-do the pain their absent of addicted parents have caused... we can't love them enough to make them not feel abandoned... we can't fill them up enough that they don't feel an emptiness from the loss... we can't make it "all better" as much as we would long to. 

 

We CAN show up, we can be present, we can listen, we can hear, we can allow for uncomfortable feelings, we can offer comfort, we can teach them how to be honest and FEEL and not run away, we can offer them alternatives to the way their other parent has chose to live, we can offer "sips" of mental health (as we TRY to find it ourselves!!!), we can let them know they are not crazy or bad for having those feelings.

We can make a difference.

Alcoholic Marriage Wordle 2, 3, 4...

I am a little addicted.

But I'm done.

Seriously.

I have made like 391 of them (www.wordle.net), but I will post just a few for edification (or fun!)... 

These were created not from my blog but from a word list I created using recovery or feeling words that applied to my situation and resonated with me.  Using that same wordlist repeatedly, either randomly or by my design, fonts, colors, layout, etc. can be changed.  (The bigger words are bigger because they are repeated more often, so for example, I said "hurt", "God", and "ask" more than once in the list.)

Alcoholic Marriage Wordle

If you are a "wordy"  (wordaphile?) like me, you will love these nifty little Wordles found at www.wordle.net.

Here is the one it created for the alcoholic marriage blog.

Meals for the Broken-Hearted

When Mr. M went off the deep end this last go 'round, some nice "church ladies" brought my family meals.
Thoughtful.
And a good idea since I couldn't bring myself to make anything at all... I personally lived on cigarettes & diet coke (don't tell Pastor :o) and didn't see why my kids should need to eat over and over again... "Didn't I just feed you yesterday?"

And Vegetables?
My poor kids didn't see one for MONTHS at a time... our best shot was a small salad at El Pollo Loco.
But I am betting on the fact that when I get to heaven, God will assuage my guilt and let me know that Ketchup is indeed a vegetable.

Like the meals you get when you have a baby or when you have surgery, alcoholic husband meals tend to be lasagna or other "red" italian meals or "cream of" soup casseroles.  Don't get me wrong, I am a grateful recipient... but a little variety wouldn't hurt, would it?

A friend of mine makes this dish... and brought it as a "losing your home" meal to one of our foreclosure friends and they RAVED about it... I wish she would've brought it to me as a "sorry your hubby is drinking again" meal.  

Hmmm... Maybe next time.

Monterey Chicken

Chicken
6 thin boneless, skinless chicken breasts
4oz can of diced green chilies
8oz pkg of shredded monterey jack cheese
1/4 c. shredded parmesan cheese
1 envelope of " orginal" Shake n' Bake
1 tsp. chili powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. cumin
1/4 tsp. pepper
6 TBS butter, melted

Tomato sauce - 

Cook all ingredients in a small sauce pan until boils and is slightly thickened.
1 15oz can of tomato sauce
1/3 c. onions, diced
1/2 tsp. cumin
salt and pepper to taste
hot pepper sauce (optional), I use 2-3 drops

Combine Shake n' Bake crumbs, parm. cheese, chili pwdr., cumin, salt, and pepper. 

Dip chicken in melted butter then roll in crumb mixture. Place in a baking dish. Layer diced green chilies and then monterey jack cheese on top of each chicken breast. Drizzle any remaining butter around the edges of the chicken. Bake at 400 for 25-40 minutes- depending on how thick your chicken breasts are. Serve with tomato sauce (some like sour cream and limes too.) I like to pair these types of meals with a salad, refried beans, and tortilla chips. Enjoy :)

UPDATE: My Friend's Boyfriend

Months ago, I wrote a post called My Friend's Boyfriend.  In it, I talked about my recently divorced friend and my jealousy over her post-marriage relationships that "light up" her "soul".

This is an update.

I have not talked to her in a long time (Guilty note to self: call her and go to lunch) but Mr. M saw her.  He said she was kind of depressive and melancholy.  

Apparently soul light boyfriend cheated on her.

I am NOT glad about this.

I am tremendously sad for her.

However, 2 things:

#1 - I DO think there CAN be a valuable lesson in this for her!  Sometimes all the fantasy and soul lighting up are just lust.  Sometimes it is good to wait, take it slow, do the right thing.  Sometimes, single parents should not be focusing on their soul lighting up (and the drama of "will he call or won't he" etc.), but on parenting their kids, especially when you have just had an affair and divorced their Daddy.

#2 - It was good for ME in that I WAS feeling jealous and lonely and wishing I could experience a little light in MY soul instead of only an alcoholic marriage.  Watching her hurt and pain is a good reminder to me that while I HAVE missed some fireworks of the soul, I have also missed all that drama and heartbreak and I have stayed and given my kids an in-tact family for a few more years.

So, I'm sorry friend.

I'm sorry you are hurting and suffering.

(And I would love to go to lunch and catch up.)

But you helped me be more grateful for my choice and not jealous. 

Thanks.

Alcoholic Cartoon #1

This isn't funny.

But it's funny.

Dwarves of Grief

From "O" Magazine

**Excerpted from "This Does Not Have to Be a Secret" from the book "An Exact Replica Of A Figment Of My Imagination" by Elizabeth McCracken**

"...In the hospital in Bordeaux one of the midwives looked at us and asked a question in French. [The Author, McCracken explains her and her husband Edward's mediocre grasp of the French language during when they were in the hospital in France and their son, Pudding, was born stillborn at nearly full-term.] This particular [midwife] was a teenager, checking itmes off a list. The room was like a hospital room anywhere, on a ward for the reproductively luckless, far away from babies and their exhausted mothers. Did we want to speak to -

'Excusez-moi?' Edward said and cocked an ear.
'Un femme relgieuse,' the midwife clarified. A religious woman. Ah.
Here's what she said:
'Voulez-vous parlez a' une nonne?'
Which means, Would you like to speak to a nun? Of course in Catholic France it was assumed we were Catholic.
But Edward heard, 'Voulez-vous parler a' un nain?'
Which means, Would you like to speak to a dwarf?

When he told this to his friend Claudia, she said, 'My God! You must have thought, 'That's the last thing I need!''
'No,' Edward told her. 'I thought I'd really like to speak to a dwarf about then. I thought it might cheer me up.'
We theorized that every French hospital kept a supply of dwarves in the basement for the worst-off patients and their families. Maybe it was just a Bordelaise tradition: the Dwarves of Grief. We could see them in their apologetic smallness, shifting from foot to foot.

In the days afterward, I told this story to friends over the phone. Our terrible news had been relayed to my friends...and now I phoned to say - to say what I wasn't sure, but I didn't want to disappear into France and grief....We ordered carafe after carafe of rose', and I told my friends about the Dwarves of Grief, and I listened to their loud, shocked, relieved laughter. I felt a strange responsibility to sound as though I were not going mad from grief. Maybe I managed it...."

********************************
Dear Oprah & Ms. McCracken, please don't sue me.

********************************

I loved this for so many reasons.

I loved Elizabeth McCracken's writing.

I loved humor and heartbreak coexisting like lover's fingers interlaced on a walk down the beach.

I loved the impossibly lovely image of the "Dwarves of Grief"... so out of place and unexpected and almost gruesome that they fit perfectly into a situation of agonizing loss and suffering. [Though I have not experienced the tragedy of losing a child and won't even pretend to compare, my grief over Mr. M's drinking and the death of my marriage and all my hopes and dreams while we have 4 kids depending on us, has been profound and devastating in its own right.] How many times would someone's offer of a Dwarf have been welcomed? It seems like a validation of the crazy out-of-placeness of what is going on in my life.

"None of what is happening in my life makes any sense. What is happening?" I flail against reality.

"Excuse me Madame, would you like to talk to a Dwarf?"

"A Dwarf?" I would respond

"Why yes, of course, Madame, A Dwarf."

"You know what?" I feel a little calmer, a little more understood "This situation definitely calls for a Dwarf. Please! Bring out the freakin' Dwarf!!!"

And finally, I love the last paragraph where the Author acknowledges that she feels a responsibility to be OK, to offer a laugh, to not be too much of a "downer" in the midst of her entire world being ripped apart at the seams. So ridiculous. So unnecessary. And yet, so me!

Ah... what a deliciously beautiful piece.

Thank you so much "O" Magazine and Elizabeth McCracken that "refreshed my spirit".