tartel

Having to recently revisit the anxiety of being in relationship with AH (when he began to threaten to kill himself a few nights ago over email - I haven't seen or spoken to him for months), going NC
(finally) as a result, and feeling (yet again) a bit sentimental and sad, and realising the danger of sentimentalism - I have begun to remind myself again, how awful I felt, by being with/trying to fix an addict.

The way he manipulated situations so very cleverly, where I was almost breathless in trying to fix things for him. Even in the times he was sober, difficult situations felt almost fatal because I was so nervous about what would happen if something went wrong. Going to dinner with him to meet my oldest friends felt scary because there was no way of knowing AH would turn nasty at the table because he didn't like the sound of something someone said. Me going to see my family felt scary because I feared he would be bored and do heroin (the desperation of my own logic makes me cringe now).

The fear, the compensations on my part increased as time went on - because he DID use things not going his way as a reason to relapse. All the while setting himself up to be hurt, or disappointed. I am not sure if it is was a conscious decision on his part, or if it was a part of addiction - but that man sure knew how to be fragile with his friends, with his work circumstances, easily insulted, uncommunicative, hold grudges for bloody decades, and was just generally easy to upset - and when it happened ... BAM, it was time to relapse. And so, there I would be, ever the codie, constantly predicting, fixing, arranging, so that things didn't tip over into affecting AH negatively.

And then, when he inevitably relapsed, it was me who suspected it, who questioned him, over and over till I was blue in the face, who waited in bed, pretending to sleep with my heart pounding until he fell asleep, then sneaking into the front room and snooping around to see if he had hidden heroin somewhere, climbed stools, checked the tops of cabinets, who checked how the foil roll looked on its last tear - and whether it had changed. It was me who searched his pockets, who peered into his eyes to check his pupils, who counted the money in my wallet over and over again to check if any had gone missing (it often did), who checked his phone, and who watched his retreating back as he went out with a sense of foreboding and anxiety, waited for him while chewing my nails, not paying attention to who I was with or what I was doing, because my thoughts would be on him and where he was and what he was doing - and begin the 'checking' process all over again when he came back. It was me who dragged him to the clinic to get his urine tested, while listening to how he was going to throw the (clean) results in my face and leave me for good. It was me (this happened once) who was so nervous about the test results, that I read the positive on the results as a negative (!!!!), and, despite it being so, I felt my instincts (that he wasn't sober) was right and kept questioning him over and over just to hear his vehement denials, before checking it again and seeing it actually said positive. I thought I was losing it and it turned out he was lying and playing with my mind all along.

And when I had managed to wrangle out the truth of his relapse, every time, it was me who organised tickets for him to go away to get sober, it was me who paid for them, went to buy them, packed for him, walked him to the train, waited till it left the station, worried about him till he got the the place he was, rung him constantly every day, panicked when he didn't answer and waited several hours until he called me back, got angry for panicking, allowed him to make amends, believed in him when he said never again, over and over again, forgave him for lying, forgave him for everything. It was me who believed that that would be the last time, that felt this strange mix of hope and apprehension, felt drained and exhausted, unable to sleep, envisaging the next relapse and how to fix it, who went to see several counsellors, who would advise me to leave him, it was me who felt completely helpless and unable to think positively about the future.

Lather, rinse, repeat. What a cycle. What an awful, painful, panic-riddled cycle it was. What a guilt-inducing, terrible enabler I was, so utterly unable to help myself and exhausted with trying to reap happiness from his actions. What an addict he was - trying to help me with my anxiety as best he possibly could when he was sober, turning me into a resource he could manipulate when he relapsed.

I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought the fear and anxiety was a natural way to live and deal with the situation, I thought I could fix him, I thought I was helping. He was a codie too, perhaps. He thought that if I trusted him, if I was less anxious, if I had given him more of a chance, he would be less stressed and sober. I believe he knows little about the things he needs to do to stay sober, believing, every time, that he could overcome it with willpower.

It was, I think, my own realisation that I was breaking, and finding this forum that helped me realise just how wrongly I was dealing with things. To read about similar people in similar situations, to read about the advice given to them, to realise I needed to take care of myself and not him, to realise how much I was being manipulated (whether consciously or not), to understand how naive I was, to realise that I did not cause it, I could not control it, and that I could not cure it. I would not have been able to leave my AH, whom I love very much, and found strength in doing so - if not for this forum. If not for all of you, through the years, who have written here, whose stories rang with so much familiarity, I would be still worried, still exhausted, and really and truly broken. Because of SR, I feel so relieved today. Despite being sad and lonely and reminded constantly of Nicer Times, and being struck that they would not happen again, the relief of finally breaking free is undeniable. I must always remember all these things.

I am sorry. This is badly written, rambling, a bit melodramatic and perhaps incoherent. Once I started writing, it all just came out, and it felt good so I kept going. It is a good reminder for myself anyway - and perhaps it would ring something true in someone else who might be in the same situation I was.

Anyway - lots of love to you all
Love, Tartel

Ann

Tartel, what you wrote here is a classic description of how it was/is for many of us. My addicted loved one was my son, but the symptoms were the same, my behaviours identical and the detective work to prove what I already knew just as crazy.

Like you, I didn't see it until I stepped away. Meetings and SR taught me how to do that, how to take my focus off that which I could not change (my son) and put it back on that which I could change (myself).

The clarity came and with it came wisdom and healthier choices is my life.

Thank you for taking the time to share your story, there is a lesson there that newcomers can learn from and oldtimers like me can remember and never go back to that dark place called codependency.

Hugs

JOIE12

Thank you Tartel, for putting in written form, what we have all been thru. A reminder to never go there again. It's amazing how much I can forget until I read someone else's story. I'm sorry for your pain. But I think if we can survive what we allowed this to do to us, we can survive anything. It's important to show others what we will NEVER tolerate. Best to you, thinking of you as you go thru this. Hugs, Joie

Jorgenss

[Lather, rinse, repeat. What a cycle. What an awful, painful, panic-riddled cycle it was. What a guilt-inducing, terrible enabler I was, so utterly unable to help myself and exhausted with trying to reap happiness from his actions. What an addict he was - trying to help me with my anxiety as best he possibly could when he was sober, turning me into a resource he could manipulate when he relapsed.]

Thank you for sharing this. So very true in all aspects of our lives. It's lonely and sad, very sad. Each one of your stories help me every day when I read.

Eauchiche

"I am sorry. This is badly written, rambling, a bit melodramatic and perhaps incoherent. Once I started writing, it all just came out, and it felt good so I kept going. It is a good reminder for myself anyway - and perhaps it would ring something true in someone else who might be in the same situation I was. "

This is the only part of your post I disagree with. I think you accurately and succinctly portrayed life with an addict.

I went last evening to give my mother in law a birthday gift. I had not been to her place for a couple of months. Not being in the middle of that family system any more after 15 years, I could see how unhappy they all are. I found what I saw shocking.

Thanks for sharing.

tartel

sorry - i just saw the replies to this. thank you, all of you. it is difficult to explain the strength i get from your replies too. How we all must know, the loneliness, and that godawful throb of anxiety, all the time.

mostly, there are times during the day, where I remember how terrible it was, and like Joie says, remind myself I don't EVER want to go through it again. and so, the forum is where i come to, late at night, when I start getting fidgety and sad. and somehow get some peace from knowing i will never let myself be in that situation again.

x

CarmenLove

Hi Tartel,

I agree with and relate to it all as well.

Except the part where you said you were struck that the nicer times won't happen again. I think that is untrue. I think they will AND even better times.

Thanks for the post.