... and so it ends
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Join Date: Apr 2004
Location: Keepin' my side of the litterbox clean
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... and so it ends
Funny thing about ending my marriage ... it has been the catalyst that got me to really start thinking about myself this time around. In previous relationships, I remained in perpetual codie mode. I often spent endless hours wondering why my partner did or said certain things and trying to figure out what made him tick. Or I'd be driving in my car, ranting like a maniac, telling off my former lover and saying all the things I had always wanted to say but didn't in fear of rocking the boat - which was always a sinking boat, I might add. Fellow drivers must have wondered what this crazy lady was doing: "Ralph, she appears to be yelling at something - do you think she has a toddler in the car or maybe she's screaming along to some violent rap music?"
I have these waves of sadness that come and go. This time I'm busy dissecting ME. Why am I sad? In looking back over the six-plus years we have been together, I looked at the "good times." They weren't all that good. But what exactly were they? Two people getting drunk together. Two people having wild and crazy sex. I have a file box full of emails from as far back as August '01. I must have lost or deleted the earlier ones. But, in looking them over, I saw that he was on the downward spiral of alcoholism back then. Me? I was chomping at the bit to get "serious" with him, but holding back and sending him emails voicing my concern over his dad's terminal illness and my hopes that AH was doing okay under such tragic circumstances. I often mentioned he was in "my prayers." Yes, I sounded so nice, so caring, so concerned .... Then I read on as we approached our wedding day. I sounded offended and got on my high-horse at times when I felt slighted. It's called manipulation and it's what I did to get my way. I'd have my little snit and he'd give me attention the way I wanted it and in a way that satisfied my craving.
So where is this sadness coming from; what is its source? It's source is the codependent me. It's the loss of that adrenalin high I got from his approval, from his coming home after being gone all week (120 miles from home - Army deployment). That unbelievable high I'd get driving home in rush-hour traffic on Friday evening, so pumped up just waiting for him to come through the door. See, in the end, just like the A, I'll miss the high I got off my addiction to my substance; namely, my AH. Just like an A in recovery might "romance" the drink and sometimes miss all the "fun" and camraderie he had with his bar-hopping buddies (while forgetting the worsening hangovers, health, money, and employment problems), I will miss that rush of anticipation when I heard his car pull into the garage (while forgetting that he didn't take me out hardly at all because he just wanted to "enjoy being home" after being gone all week).
Good times? Yeah, if you consider "good times" to be two people getting drunk on champagne in a car parked on a dead-end street with the sunroof open during a thunderstorm, and the CD player blaring Tom Petty's "Free Fallin'" while singing at the top of their lungs. Sure, there are brief moments when I saw him as he once was, and it was delightful, but those all-too-infrequent moments don't make up for the abuse. I'm not bitter. I'm just grieving the loss of my addiction. So I see my attorney on the 20th, get my legal ducks in a row, and begin living again one day at a time. One day at a time accepting life without that obsession and adrenalin "kick."
But this time it will be real life, with real joy and real sorrow. But this time, it will also be the real me.
I have these waves of sadness that come and go. This time I'm busy dissecting ME. Why am I sad? In looking back over the six-plus years we have been together, I looked at the "good times." They weren't all that good. But what exactly were they? Two people getting drunk together. Two people having wild and crazy sex. I have a file box full of emails from as far back as August '01. I must have lost or deleted the earlier ones. But, in looking them over, I saw that he was on the downward spiral of alcoholism back then. Me? I was chomping at the bit to get "serious" with him, but holding back and sending him emails voicing my concern over his dad's terminal illness and my hopes that AH was doing okay under such tragic circumstances. I often mentioned he was in "my prayers." Yes, I sounded so nice, so caring, so concerned .... Then I read on as we approached our wedding day. I sounded offended and got on my high-horse at times when I felt slighted. It's called manipulation and it's what I did to get my way. I'd have my little snit and he'd give me attention the way I wanted it and in a way that satisfied my craving.
So where is this sadness coming from; what is its source? It's source is the codependent me. It's the loss of that adrenalin high I got from his approval, from his coming home after being gone all week (120 miles from home - Army deployment). That unbelievable high I'd get driving home in rush-hour traffic on Friday evening, so pumped up just waiting for him to come through the door. See, in the end, just like the A, I'll miss the high I got off my addiction to my substance; namely, my AH. Just like an A in recovery might "romance" the drink and sometimes miss all the "fun" and camraderie he had with his bar-hopping buddies (while forgetting the worsening hangovers, health, money, and employment problems), I will miss that rush of anticipation when I heard his car pull into the garage (while forgetting that he didn't take me out hardly at all because he just wanted to "enjoy being home" after being gone all week).
Good times? Yeah, if you consider "good times" to be two people getting drunk on champagne in a car parked on a dead-end street with the sunroof open during a thunderstorm, and the CD player blaring Tom Petty's "Free Fallin'" while singing at the top of their lungs. Sure, there are brief moments when I saw him as he once was, and it was delightful, but those all-too-infrequent moments don't make up for the abuse. I'm not bitter. I'm just grieving the loss of my addiction. So I see my attorney on the 20th, get my legal ducks in a row, and begin living again one day at a time. One day at a time accepting life without that obsession and adrenalin "kick."
But this time it will be real life, with real joy and real sorrow. But this time, it will also be the real me.
I was able to relate to a lot of what you said about being a codie-mourner. I've been so used to doing things the codie way that I do get withdrawl symptoms and go through yelling tirades on my morning commute as well.
It's nice to see where I can be with some time and continued recovery.
Thanks so much for this post.
It's nice to see where I can be with some time and continued recovery.
Thanks so much for this post.
Hello,
Great post Prodigal. I can see that the fog has lifted for you to see reality.
I often wonder myself what I had with those wild times also.
God’s speed on your new journey.
Great post Prodigal. I can see that the fog has lifted for you to see reality.
I often wonder myself what I had with those wild times also.
God’s speed on your new journey.
A work in progress....
Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: FREE!!!! Somewhere in the Tennessee Mountains
Posts: 1,018
Good for you! I, too, can relate to lots of what you said-especially the musings about how the 'good times' were filled with toxic behaviors.
I had a little old lady who lives beside my mom's condo tell me the other day that I look 10 years younger-that I have a smile where (she said) I always used to carry a sort of frown on my face. She was wondering why. I didn't get into it with her, but I know why. I have peace; I no longer find myself obsessing and ranting like a maniac. It's a much better place to be.
(((((HUGS)))))
I had a little old lady who lives beside my mom's condo tell me the other day that I look 10 years younger-that I have a smile where (she said) I always used to carry a sort of frown on my face. She was wondering why. I didn't get into it with her, but I know why. I have peace; I no longer find myself obsessing and ranting like a maniac. It's a much better place to be.
(((((HUGS)))))
Thank you Prodigal for the inspirational post.
I could totally relate to mourning the loss of your addiction. I think thats what makes it so hard to make sense of the whole sorry mess,,,
Peace and Love
I could totally relate to mourning the loss of your addiction. I think thats what makes it so hard to make sense of the whole sorry mess,,,
Peace and Love
Yeah, if you consider "good times" to be two people getting drunk on champagne in a car parked on a dead-end street with the sunroof open during a thunderstorm, and the CD player blaring Tom Petty's "Free Fallin'" while singing at the top of their lungs.
Anyway, good for you. I'm glad you're moving forward.
Did it end with a bang ? Or a whimper ?
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Without going into all the details, GP, it ended with a bit of both. No good A worth his salt would let drama be absent from the situation. Then, neither would a codie when she's having one of her "moments"! He told me to go f*** off and that was the boundary line that he should NOT have crossed. It was said in such a way, as well as his follow-up of "just go back into your office" that I knew he REALLY meant it. No respect, obviously. But really a get-lost kinda message as in "Hit the road, Jack!"
It started with my being slightly exasperated with him barging into my office to ask a pretty dumb question. No matter. He was a loose canon on my deck anyway. It wouldn't have taken much to set him off.
It started with my being slightly exasperated with him barging into my office to ask a pretty dumb question. No matter. He was a loose canon on my deck anyway. It wouldn't have taken much to set him off.
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Join Date: Jun 2007
Posts: 84
Good times? Yeah, if you consider "good times" to be two people getting drunk on champagne in a car parked on a dead-end street with the sunroof open during a thunderstorm, and the CD player blaring Tom Petty's "Free Fallin'" while singing at the top of their lungs.
But this time it will be real life, with real joy and real sorrow. But this time, it will also be the real me.
But this time it will be real life, with real joy and real sorrow. But this time, it will also be the real me.
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Join Date: Apr 2004
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Yeah, it sounds like fun, but when the only "fun" you have revolves around getting half-trashed it gets old and ceases to be fun any longer. We had four days of rip-roaring "fun" in Virginia Beach back in July '02. It was the first time I got in the ocean in something like 18 years. Waves are out to get me. While everyone else is bobbing happily up and down, I'm the one getting dragged under while my bathing suit falls off! LOL!!!!!
In order to get out there with AH and have all that "fun" I had to down a six-pack of beer in the blazing hot sun. Gee, did I feel great afterwards. The only time AH came out of his shell (or whatever it was) and became that fun-lovin' guy was when he drank.
It got old. Very, very, very old ...
In order to get out there with AH and have all that "fun" I had to down a six-pack of beer in the blazing hot sun. Gee, did I feel great afterwards. The only time AH came out of his shell (or whatever it was) and became that fun-lovin' guy was when he drank.
It got old. Very, very, very old ...
Wipe your paws elsewhere!
Join Date: Dec 2004
Posts: 3,672
Glad to hear that you're meeting with an attorney and moving forward in your life. Just imagine, life without the daily drama that surrounds addicts. Let's all say a collective "aaaahhhhhh" for Prodie.
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