Hi
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: May 2013
Location: Central Atlantic, FL
Posts: 1
Hi
I've barely begun to look around, but I am so glad to have found this site and the resources here. I wrote out quite a long intro in my profile, without realizing there was a word limit 
Luckily, I copied it before I submitted. Since I'm worn out from that effort, I'll just say a quick hello, thank you and blessings to all here, and I'll paste verbatim my intro attempted before. Sorry for the length; I do tend to be quite verbose once I get going
My story is a long, long, long one. I married an abusive alcoholic and addict (although I did not know the extent of which at the time; he was mostly in recovery from the more serious usage when we dated and married). I will freely admit that I was certainly no angel or stranger to drugs myself, but I am also quite sure that he introduced me to much harder substances and a lifestyle I never would have pursued on my own. I was more a dabbler--curious enough to try things once or twice, but, until things spiraled out of control with him, I had the good sense to know when to put things down and walk away, especially the substances I could see myself enjoying a little too much. I was seeking experience, but certainly not a habit. I can say with utter conviction that left to my own devices, at my current age of 40 I would likely have the same wide range of 'experimental experiences', but I am quite sure I would not have become an addict myself.
Through close observation of his behaviors during different clean or using phases of his life, plus knowledge of his background before we met and a family history that certainly contributed to his problems, I was able to acquire a vast mental encyclopedia that consisted of equal parts hard facts about different drugs, the behaviors of an addict, and even now I'm very interested in the emerging science of addiction studies and continue to learn and research, combined on the other side with a mixture of my own personal experiences with many different drugs, observations of their effects both on myself and others in all stages of use, from experimental to escalation to hard addiction beyond most any reasonable expectation of hope or help.
My late husband is, sadly, not anywhere close to the only dead addict I've cared about over the years.
We had it so, so good for several years. After a rocky start that consisted of about a year as newly weds partying way too hard, I was finally able to realize that if it hadn't already gone too far, then we were awfully close to the edge. We managed to clean up fairly easily, bought a home, had 2 beautiful and beloved children (both still so young--under the age of 9, and without their daddy since 2009).
Oh, what a hard road it has been since then. I've had my own very serious demons to overcome as well, and thanks to a sub program and picking up and moving far away, I've been mostly successful besides a small relapse that perhaps occurs once or twice a year. I never want to get involved in that life ever ever again, and I am well aware that I will have to fight against the urge for the rest of my days. Some days, the burden of responsibility left on my shoulders alone seems impossible and insurmountable. The life I've been left with can seem so impossible for one person to bear that at times it's all I can do to take my next breath.
When he left, he left me addicted to opiates (I didn't realize how seriously until it was too late), he stole everything our family had of value, left a high 5-figure amount of debt, 3/4 of which had either my or my business name attached to the accounts as well, not to mention the extreme anxiety and crippling depression that still leaves me unable to live a life anywhere near to my potential. I still suffer personally so much from all the fallout--I grieve still the life we lost when things were good; he had a fantastic job, great benefits, we owned a beautiful home, 2 beloved children, and I was able to leave my job to pursue a business of my own that also allowed me to be there for my children.
I still grieve the loss of my husband--by the time I had to take out a mental inquest and restraining order on him, he couldn't have been more of a different person than he was just a couple of short years earlier. In addition, anxiety and depression that render me paralyzed some days and unable to keep a real job in more than 5 years (that, not to mention the flexibility needed as sole guardian to 2 young children). The struggle is still daily, even though things have steadily improved so much over time and I am ultimately an optimist. However, I cannot deny that the worst things still lurk deep in my heart and soul and I don't believe I've even really begun to confront yet--I've been diagnosed with PTSD as a result of all the abuse and rape I suffered at the worst point of his disease of addiction, nearly all of the last 2 years we were together.
There is so much more to my story--some (much) filled with hope and healing and strength and wisdom gained from it all. But there is also still so much hurt and deep wounds that remain unhealed. There are so many things about my journey since his death that no one, not even myself, could have fathomed or understood. I lost several of my best friends in the world because they couldn't understand why, 3 years later, I still didn't 'have it back together' or why I couldn't just 'get over it' and why I couldn't find or keep a steady job despite the fact that I've got a graduate degree. The thing is, when I first became strong enough to say 'Enough!' and put a stop to the madness and get him out of the house and into rehab (failed 3 times, but by then no longer my problem due to the restraining order. All I could feel was relief from the constant fear and abuse), at that time, I had never felt more strong and in control, albeit terrified at the same time of facing life alone. Still, I rationalized, it couldn't be any worse than it had been, and at least the children were too young at that point to realize the depths to which things had truly plunged.
So at first, I was empowered, hopeful, had all the support from friends and family I could ever hope for. Fast forward the next 3 years until I got the phone call and had to identify his body by the tattoo on his shoulder from our honeymoon, and fill those three years with the realities of single-motherhood, a deeply traumatized 5 year old boy who couldn't understand anything that had blown his world apart, a VERY strong-willed 2 year old girl at the worst of toddler-hood, overwhelming debt, having to watch my once successful business crumble because of all the capital he stole, not to mention the fact that I took on 3 times the amount of work I could have handled even in the best of times, in an effort to provide for my family that eventually backfired into my being too unavailable to my children who needed me, and ended up spinning completely out of control when I could no longer fulfill contractual obligations due to lack of financial resources, lack of hours in the day and running a one woman show, unable to hire any help, and eventually utter failure with constant angry client calls and emails, the local news station's 'troubleshooter' hot on my tail, and a tailspin from one of the most exclusive and successful businesses of its type in the city to a page full of failing bbb rankings and complaints.
Add to all that receiving no child support for the entire 3 years he was gone before he died, constantly having to look over my shoulder for fear, because at least 2-3 times a year, especially around holidays, he would begin stalking the house, having to accept charity to keep the heat on in the winter, having to suffer heat indexes of over 110 degrees in the southern summers with no AC, and anyone who has not personally lived the hardships and nearly impossible hurdles and hoops one must go through to receive aid in a larger sized city, well, I'll just say I felt battered and raped all over again after dealing with that system for years.
And the deadbeat dad program? What a joke. After initially losing my paperwork and so having to restart the whole thing over again 6 months later, they never did have any success at 'finding him' although I informed them each of the 6 times he was incarcerated right down the street from their office the last year of his life (I was on the victim's notification program). I finally got a letter not long ago, perhaps early last year, that said they had closed the case and given up on the search because he could not be found. At that point, he'd been dead over a year and a half.
Sigh. I can't go on with this anymore right now, even though there is so much of my own story to tell and journey to share. At times, such as tonight, I'll begin writing about it, I'll go on obsessively about it for hours sometimes, and all of a sudden I have to stop or lose my mind from exhaustion at the intensity of it all. I never do seem to get it all out, beginning to the present. One day I'll compile all my fragments and make an official narrative; I've definitely got a book in me that will bubble to the surface, bit by bit, as time moves forward. I've also been writing up ideas and a proposal for a non-profit based on helping others who've experienced any great tragedy that forever divided their lives into 2 parts--the before and the after.
There is certainly no going back, but in my most hopeful and optimistic moments, I am sure I wouldn't choose to anyway. The perspective and empathy I've gained from it all is way too valuable.
If anyone made it all the way through this, my sincere appreciation and thanks for listening to part of my story.
Luckily, I copied it before I submitted. Since I'm worn out from that effort, I'll just say a quick hello, thank you and blessings to all here, and I'll paste verbatim my intro attempted before. Sorry for the length; I do tend to be quite verbose once I get going My story is a long, long, long one. I married an abusive alcoholic and addict (although I did not know the extent of which at the time; he was mostly in recovery from the more serious usage when we dated and married). I will freely admit that I was certainly no angel or stranger to drugs myself, but I am also quite sure that he introduced me to much harder substances and a lifestyle I never would have pursued on my own. I was more a dabbler--curious enough to try things once or twice, but, until things spiraled out of control with him, I had the good sense to know when to put things down and walk away, especially the substances I could see myself enjoying a little too much. I was seeking experience, but certainly not a habit. I can say with utter conviction that left to my own devices, at my current age of 40 I would likely have the same wide range of 'experimental experiences', but I am quite sure I would not have become an addict myself.
Through close observation of his behaviors during different clean or using phases of his life, plus knowledge of his background before we met and a family history that certainly contributed to his problems, I was able to acquire a vast mental encyclopedia that consisted of equal parts hard facts about different drugs, the behaviors of an addict, and even now I'm very interested in the emerging science of addiction studies and continue to learn and research, combined on the other side with a mixture of my own personal experiences with many different drugs, observations of their effects both on myself and others in all stages of use, from experimental to escalation to hard addiction beyond most any reasonable expectation of hope or help.
My late husband is, sadly, not anywhere close to the only dead addict I've cared about over the years.
We had it so, so good for several years. After a rocky start that consisted of about a year as newly weds partying way too hard, I was finally able to realize that if it hadn't already gone too far, then we were awfully close to the edge. We managed to clean up fairly easily, bought a home, had 2 beautiful and beloved children (both still so young--under the age of 9, and without their daddy since 2009).
Oh, what a hard road it has been since then. I've had my own very serious demons to overcome as well, and thanks to a sub program and picking up and moving far away, I've been mostly successful besides a small relapse that perhaps occurs once or twice a year. I never want to get involved in that life ever ever again, and I am well aware that I will have to fight against the urge for the rest of my days. Some days, the burden of responsibility left on my shoulders alone seems impossible and insurmountable. The life I've been left with can seem so impossible for one person to bear that at times it's all I can do to take my next breath.
When he left, he left me addicted to opiates (I didn't realize how seriously until it was too late), he stole everything our family had of value, left a high 5-figure amount of debt, 3/4 of which had either my or my business name attached to the accounts as well, not to mention the extreme anxiety and crippling depression that still leaves me unable to live a life anywhere near to my potential. I still suffer personally so much from all the fallout--I grieve still the life we lost when things were good; he had a fantastic job, great benefits, we owned a beautiful home, 2 beloved children, and I was able to leave my job to pursue a business of my own that also allowed me to be there for my children.
I still grieve the loss of my husband--by the time I had to take out a mental inquest and restraining order on him, he couldn't have been more of a different person than he was just a couple of short years earlier. In addition, anxiety and depression that render me paralyzed some days and unable to keep a real job in more than 5 years (that, not to mention the flexibility needed as sole guardian to 2 young children). The struggle is still daily, even though things have steadily improved so much over time and I am ultimately an optimist. However, I cannot deny that the worst things still lurk deep in my heart and soul and I don't believe I've even really begun to confront yet--I've been diagnosed with PTSD as a result of all the abuse and rape I suffered at the worst point of his disease of addiction, nearly all of the last 2 years we were together.
There is so much more to my story--some (much) filled with hope and healing and strength and wisdom gained from it all. But there is also still so much hurt and deep wounds that remain unhealed. There are so many things about my journey since his death that no one, not even myself, could have fathomed or understood. I lost several of my best friends in the world because they couldn't understand why, 3 years later, I still didn't 'have it back together' or why I couldn't just 'get over it' and why I couldn't find or keep a steady job despite the fact that I've got a graduate degree. The thing is, when I first became strong enough to say 'Enough!' and put a stop to the madness and get him out of the house and into rehab (failed 3 times, but by then no longer my problem due to the restraining order. All I could feel was relief from the constant fear and abuse), at that time, I had never felt more strong and in control, albeit terrified at the same time of facing life alone. Still, I rationalized, it couldn't be any worse than it had been, and at least the children were too young at that point to realize the depths to which things had truly plunged.
So at first, I was empowered, hopeful, had all the support from friends and family I could ever hope for. Fast forward the next 3 years until I got the phone call and had to identify his body by the tattoo on his shoulder from our honeymoon, and fill those three years with the realities of single-motherhood, a deeply traumatized 5 year old boy who couldn't understand anything that had blown his world apart, a VERY strong-willed 2 year old girl at the worst of toddler-hood, overwhelming debt, having to watch my once successful business crumble because of all the capital he stole, not to mention the fact that I took on 3 times the amount of work I could have handled even in the best of times, in an effort to provide for my family that eventually backfired into my being too unavailable to my children who needed me, and ended up spinning completely out of control when I could no longer fulfill contractual obligations due to lack of financial resources, lack of hours in the day and running a one woman show, unable to hire any help, and eventually utter failure with constant angry client calls and emails, the local news station's 'troubleshooter' hot on my tail, and a tailspin from one of the most exclusive and successful businesses of its type in the city to a page full of failing bbb rankings and complaints.
Add to all that receiving no child support for the entire 3 years he was gone before he died, constantly having to look over my shoulder for fear, because at least 2-3 times a year, especially around holidays, he would begin stalking the house, having to accept charity to keep the heat on in the winter, having to suffer heat indexes of over 110 degrees in the southern summers with no AC, and anyone who has not personally lived the hardships and nearly impossible hurdles and hoops one must go through to receive aid in a larger sized city, well, I'll just say I felt battered and raped all over again after dealing with that system for years.
And the deadbeat dad program? What a joke. After initially losing my paperwork and so having to restart the whole thing over again 6 months later, they never did have any success at 'finding him' although I informed them each of the 6 times he was incarcerated right down the street from their office the last year of his life (I was on the victim's notification program). I finally got a letter not long ago, perhaps early last year, that said they had closed the case and given up on the search because he could not be found. At that point, he'd been dead over a year and a half.
Sigh. I can't go on with this anymore right now, even though there is so much of my own story to tell and journey to share. At times, such as tonight, I'll begin writing about it, I'll go on obsessively about it for hours sometimes, and all of a sudden I have to stop or lose my mind from exhaustion at the intensity of it all. I never do seem to get it all out, beginning to the present. One day I'll compile all my fragments and make an official narrative; I've definitely got a book in me that will bubble to the surface, bit by bit, as time moves forward. I've also been writing up ideas and a proposal for a non-profit based on helping others who've experienced any great tragedy that forever divided their lives into 2 parts--the before and the after.
There is certainly no going back, but in my most hopeful and optimistic moments, I am sure I wouldn't choose to anyway. The perspective and empathy I've gained from it all is way too valuable.
If anyone made it all the way through this, my sincere appreciation and thanks for listening to part of my story.
Member
Join Date: Sep 2007
Location: Atlanta
Posts: 31,179
Welcome to SR, though I'm sorry for what has brought you here. I turned to alcohol when I was with an alcoholic, crack when I was with a crack addict.
Luckily, I chose recovery for both addiction and codependency at the same time and SR has been a huge part of that.
We're here for you...like one big family that gets what you are going through and I'm so glad you found us!
Hugs and prayers,
Amy
Luckily, I chose recovery for both addiction and codependency at the same time and SR has been a huge part of that.
We're here for you...like one big family that gets what you are going through and I'm so glad you found us!
Hugs and prayers,
Amy
Member
Join Date: Oct 2012
Posts: 5,937
Welcome to SR!
Thank you for sharing your story. For the grace of God, and such. I'm so glad to see you're "coming out the other side" and regret the ordeals you had to survive to do so. There's so much pain in this world already that it breaks my heart to see us humans manufacturing so much more through drug and alcohol abuse. I look backward and see all the self inflicted damage I suffered and feel like a moron on one level, but ultimately I'm just glad I too managed to find my way to the light.
Thank you for sharing your story. For the grace of God, and such. I'm so glad to see you're "coming out the other side" and regret the ordeals you had to survive to do so. There's so much pain in this world already that it breaks my heart to see us humans manufacturing so much more through drug and alcohol abuse. I look backward and see all the self inflicted damage I suffered and feel like a moron on one level, but ultimately I'm just glad I too managed to find my way to the light.
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