Treeners

Hello everyone,

I hope my story is welcome here and I seek to find comfort form some of you who may understand alcoholism better than I do. It's a pretty long story...

My boyfriend and I met 4 years ago, through drinking. We had both just gotten out of our only serious relationship and partied all summer. September came around and we decided that we wanted to make things official.

The following December, I got my first taste of his alcoholism. He became severely depressed after a night of drinking with friends and they suggested I go home. After I left, he was so upset I was gone that he slammed his arm into a window and had to go to the ER to get 33 staples in his arm. I stayed by his side and offered my support. During this time though, he lost some of his friends who weren't interested in sticking around through all of the problems.

Thinking that this incident brought us closer, we continued to see eachother, although he didn't try to completely stop drinking, just "slowed down." Also battling depression, he had a black out incident one day, over a small fight we had, and tried to kill himself. He ran through the streets and I had to catch him. Cops were called, we went to the hospital, and he began to realize he needed help and went on anti-depressants. There was no alcohol involved this night.

We moved in together two years into our relationship and I didn't understand that alcohol triggered his depression so severely so we drank, and fought, and made up...many times. Looking back I know that I was stupid and didn't make enough of an effort to get him help but I had no previous experience with alcoholism. We eventually moved out of that place and into a beautiful apartment looking over the city's river valley. Drinking was on and off a problem, but I started going back to school and volunteering so I didn't give him the attention he may have needed.

A few months later, I came home to him passed out on the floor, glasses off, table knocked over, puke everywhere. I couldn't get him up, he wasn't answering me, and i began to panic. I called 911 and they came right away. Before they got there, he woke up slightly, just enough to tell me to **** off and when he heard the sirens, he began to try to get up and resist.

When they got there, he admitted to them that he drank so much because he knew I was at work. He began at 10:00 and I got home around 4:00. They decided that he didn't need any treatment because he said he didn't feel suicidal. He signed some paperwork and off they went. One of the paramedics called me outside and talked with me about how his dad was an alcoholic. It was a comforting conversation but suddenly we heard a door slam. My boyfriend had just gone into the washroom, thank god. So off went the paramedics and I went inside to check on him.

He said through the door that he just wanted to be left alone. I assumed he was embarrassed and just wanted some space. It had been 10 minutes and I started to worry so I knocked on the door and he mumbled "break down the door"

I couldn't get it open but screamed for him to reach to unlock it. I walked into an image that continues to haunt me. He had slit his wrists and said "I tricked them." I called back and the ambulance was back on their way. During this time he assured me that I'd be fine without him, that I could take his money and I wouldn't miss him. He doesn't remember saying any of this and I don't think he ever understood how hard this was for me.

Needless to say he was admitted to the hospital and stayed under suicide watch. His parents flew in from the other side of the country and he would only tell me what he was really thinking (How he was planning on escaping and killing himself anyways).

Once he was let out, he went to therapy and started to journal. I asked him how he felt and he would tell me, good and bad. I think that this incident was especially hard and changed him for good. He is an only child who his parents think very highly of. He is in the medical profession and people take his quietness for niceness. He always told me that I was the only person who really knew him.

Six months goes by and although he decided to quit therapy, he stayed sober and seemed happier. I think that I could have been more attentive though because although he seemed happy, he was always good at hiding his feelings.
In April we went on a vacation to Mexico and talked about the all-inclusive liquor beforehand. He said it wasn't an issue, said he wouldn't drink, and encouraged me to (even though I had no desire to drink anymore and I hadn't for awhile).

As we were landing in Cancun, he said he wanted to have a few drinks on the trip since he paid for it. He assured me that we would have a safe word ("September" to remind him of the time he tried to kill himself in the bathroom). I felt obligated to say yes...and it went downhill from there.

One drink turned into many and although most days were okay, our second last full day there was bad. He wanted to get another and I suggested we have a round of punch instead. He would grab food, I would hit up the restroom, and we'd meet at the bar to grab our juice. When I got there he had ordered a shot of tequila and when he asked me if that was okay and I said no, he refused to talk to me. I tried to talk to him and he started to tell me that I am lost without him, that I'm a bitch, and that I would have to find my own way. He took the room key and wouldn't let me have it. I walked away and cried my eyes out for about an hour until I made my way back to the room and he was there.

I walked in and said "September" but he told me it was too late and that he was done with us. At the time I was so disgusted with him that I agreed and, ironically, we went to get a drink together. This was a terrible idea, I know, but I just didn't care anymore.

We got more drunk than we've ever been and after about an hour of conversation, he told me that I should go sleep with someone else. He said that he saw me finding true love and happiness but that his true love was alcohol. I got fed up with him and left the bar. An hour later, I saw the security guards carrying him up the stairs in his chair because he had passed out and thrown up on himself.

I showed them to our room and he told them to not listen to me because I was a bitch and I'd dealt with this all before and that I'd better tip them good. He passed out on the bed and I slept on the floor.

Stupid me the next day suggested we go on a break and at the end of the day after some though he agreed. I would stay at my moms for awhile and we would take time apart to think. Two weeks later, he asked that I come back home. I asked him if he had drank while I was away and he said no.

Two months later, I found out that he had gone to his friends house and drank. I told him I wasn't mad he drank, but that he lied and that I couldn't understand how easy it was for him to lie to me. I told him that he needed to make it up to me and he said he would.

After no effort was made, I mentioned it again and I could see that he didn't care. A week later, he asked me what was wrong and I told him that I was starting to realize he really didn't want to be with me. So we broke up. I was devastated and went to visit my friend out of town for two weeks before I got back home, packed up my life, and moved back in with my mom.

We didn't talk for a week and he texted me one night asking how I was. We had friendly conversation and talked the next day on the phone for almost two hours. He told me he'd been drinking, begged me not to tell his parents, and confided in me on how "****** up" he was. He cried to me and apologized for putting me through hell. We decided to remain friends and I told him that I'd always be there for him.

When I got back, I made the mistake of hanging out with him and drinking with him. I know that this is wrong and I'm stopping now. He admitted that he drinks day and night, and that he hasn't though about things. I made an even bigger mistake and agreed to being friends with benefits. After about a month and a half, I realized that we were pretty much dating again and that we should get back together. He shut down the idea and told me he knows he would end up hurting me. He told me he just wants to be alone, not even with other girls because he "doesn't want to do to someone else what he'd done to me"

I'm a mess right now. It's been almost two months and I'm severely depressed. I'm not drinking or anything, just crying a lot. I know he's drinking everyday still, which makes him not have to think about things.

He starting to be more adventurous now though, and he never wanted to go out before. He went out camping with work people, is socializing more, and is going to a music festival next week.

He's making me feel like he could care less that we broke up. I guess he has everything he wants now though: he can still drink, he can still talk to me with no commitment, he's alone...that's all he ever talks about is wanting to be alone.

I'm stuck...I'm so used to caring about him and worrying about him. I've had to change me entire life and he hasn't had to change a thing. He can afford our place so he's still there.

My friends tell me to stop talking to him and I know I should. I can't stop worrying about him though.

I was hoping that this story may resonate with some of you. I would love to hear your feedback, thank you so much for "listening"