Our Story – Part 10

I was angry on Monday. 

I was angry at him for putting us through this. I was angry at him for letting him put me through this. I was angry he gets 4 weeks of doing nothing to recover and I have to keep being a functioning adult. I was angry he’s finding it all so easy and the withdrawal meds mean he’s not having to suffer any discomfort.

I’d had three days of not feeling anything at all. Total numbness. I knew emotions would come but I didn’t expect the first things I would feel to be anger and resentment, and that upset me. 

I raged all day in my head. When we messaged I tried to reply in a way that got him to ask what was wrong. It didn’t work. 

Then, at half past ten my brother woke me because my mum was trying to call. My grandma had died that evening of a massive heart attack. 

My relationship with my grandma had been pretty non existent for the last three years when she’s been in a care home. She had Alzheimer’s and wasn’t a very nice person at all. In all honesty I’m not sure she’s ever been a particularly nice person and that’s the bit that came out the strongest. She was vile to my mum and grandpa whenever they visited to the point that once a week visits moved to once a fortnight. When they visited her last week it was the nicest she’s been, I’m grateful for that. 

I messaged my partner to tell him what had happened. He’s the only person I want to talk to when things aren’t good. His reply was… “how are your parents?”

I lost it.  All my pain came pouring out. How I needed some support and I felt like all I did was give. How I wished I could have the time he is having to recover without having to adult. 

My partner and I have never been very good at arguing. I think we’re both a little too rational and because we see things from both sides disagreements are pretty short lived. But some truths came out. 

He is miserable, it is hard and he hates it. He had been putting on a brave face so I didn’t worry so much. The staff at the clinic have to be reminded to give him his meds because they can’t seem to read their own charts. Not being allowed out of the building is driving him insane. 

I spoke about what was worrying me, about how I’m scared of what it’s going to be like when he gets back. About how alone I feel right now. 

We reached a level where we could both be honest, finally. 

My grandma was an extremely selfish person her whole life, but in the end she gave me this and I am so grateful for that. 

I am also grateful that she’ll no longer suffer, that my mum will not be brow beaten and bullied anymore, that my grandpa doesn’t have to go and witness what Alzheimer’s has done to his wife of over 60 years anymore. I think some peace for everyone will be found. 

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My Reality – Rehab

I feel guilty writing this post because it’s a selfish one. But I want to know if what I’m feeling right now is how other people who’s loved ones have gone in to rehab feel. 

Firstly, I am pleased he has gone to get help. I really am. It’s all I’ve wanted for so, so long. He’s going to get better. Whatever that looks like. 

But, I feel completely abandoned. I’ve been dealing with this almost completely on my own for months and months. No one else has been involved. And now he’s just gone. 

I know he’s in a place that is right for him and what he needs but I just feel left behind and out of control. Maybe this complete cut off is what I need to heal and learn not to do all the things I’ve been doing but now the numbness is passing it feels like its being replaced with a sense of resentment and I hate it.

I’m left thinking, what about me?

I have a great support network here of people who are focussed just on me. I don’t want to talk to anyone though so it’s just me and my head. The only person I want to talk to is him but I don’t feel like I can talk about my problems right now because he’s trying to deal with his. 

I’m scared about us and what that’s going to look like after this. I’m scared he’s not going to want me anymore. I’m scared because I don’t have any idea what is going to happen and the organising mild control freak in me doesn’t like that. I feel completely out of control. 

He’s getting good rest, food and sleep. I’m barely able to sleep and lucky if I feel hungry. I don’t want to leave the house I just want to hide from the world. Today I have to go back to work. I don’t want to but I have to because I can’t hide for ever. I’ve got a load of crappy work to do and mistakes to sort out. Mistakes I’ve made because my mind has been elsewhere. It’s frustrating and embarrassing. I don’t like making mistakes. 

I feel like what I am left with now is the impact this has had on my own life that I hadn’t even realised. The lack of focus professionally, not making time for my friends, not making time for me.

Hopefully this is all going to even out and settle quickly. I’m sure everything is going to be OK but that nagging doubt at the back of my mind seems to be shouting pretty loud right now. 

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Our Story – Part 9

By the time I got home from work on Wednesday I was exhausted.  I felt ill and tired and just completely fed up with life.  I tried to sleep when I got home but couldn’t settle.  I ended up waiting until my partner had gone to work before I went to bed.

At 1am I was woken up.  He was home.  He was too unwell to work.  He’d had to leave but he was going back in the next morning to speak to his bosses and reach out for help.  That was the last night I got to sleep with my partner.  Since then everything has been a complete blur.

I called in to work sick the next morning because I was too tired to drive my hour and a half commute and be nice to people all day.  It turned out to be the best decision I made.  He left at 10.30 that morning, 9 hours later I had just dropped him off at a residential rehab clinic.

I don’t know what happened that day.  It is a day I have lost forever, the only thing I know that happened is that time passed.

I still don’t have any emotions attached to what is happening and he has been away 3 full days now.  I am still numb.  Numb is the only way I can describe how I feel.  I didn’t leave the house for 2 days, today I did the grocery shopping but that was all.  It is surreal.  I have spent 8 months hoping he would get help, and now he has.  He’s there.  I’m here reeling in the background trying to piece myself back together.

Friday I saw my counselor.  He was the first person to tell me how proud of me they were.  That I had finally stood up and said what I thought rather than pushed it away so not to cause an argument.  He is finding me other people to talk to who have been where I have been.

I am in recovery too.

Alcoholism is a terrible thing, it sucks in everyone who comes near it.  I feel terrible for having put our housemate and friend through this.  None of this has been easy for him.  He has watched one of his best friends almost drink himself to death and had to be an emotional support to the other.

I currently feel sorry for me too.  My friends, well the very few who know, and my family are being outstanding but I feel completely at sea.  I have gone from being sole carer of someone to just being me.  That is a strange place to find yourself.

He is currently doing well though.  The heavy medication is helping with that I’m sure, but he has been to a group therapy session and a talk by someone from the AA.  I didn’t think either of those things would ever happen.  I am incredibly proud of him.  This demon has haunted the lives of us both for too long and finally he has found the strength to start defeating it.

This is going to be a long road though.  Detox and recovery are very different things.  Learning to trust someone again and not checking the house everyday for alcohol is going to be hard too .  We’ve gotten this far though, one steep hill conquered, around the corner to the next!

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Our Story – Part 8

I managed to get and see my counselor pretty quick.  He’s good like that.  I ask for help and he makes time.

We spoke about the physical symptoms I was now seeing and he talked me through his recovery, withdrawal, rehab, AA, all the useful things.  We spoke about how I struggle with the concept of alcoholism being a disease.  I understand that, medically, it is, so please don’t go crazy on me for this – BUT, I am tired of having “alcoholism is the only disease you can be yelled at for having” thrown in my face.  I would like to clarify as well that I have, in fact, never yelled about it, even when I have really, really, really wanted to.

But, yes. You can be “yelled” at for it. The last time I checked people with cancer didn’t pop in to Tesco on their way home to buy more to make it worse.  That kid with leukemia on a ward would love to be able to just STOP having leukemia, to have that actual choice to get rid of it.

I do appreciate that it is not this simple, but I hope that you can understand from my point of view that there is, in fact, a degree of control.  And I know addiction isn’t that simple – as a smoker who has “quit” twice I am very aware of the games your own mind plays on you, how it rationalizes and justifies to you that you’ll just have “one more”.

The most upsetting thing we spoke about was what to do if my partner had a fit.  I felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders.  This was too much, I didn’t want to deal with this.  I think the thing that finished me off on the “how to deal with a fit” conversation was when he said “oh, and he’ll probably bite through his own tongue”.

I went home that day and my partner and I went out for lunch. In the car I told him all the things my counselor had said.  His response to AA was as expected.  We spoke about how the counselor tells people he has an allergy to alcohol to avoid awkward question asking in social situations.  He was quite open that day, we actually discussed things.

By the time we got home though I was really worried, and actually pretty scared.  The shaking and body jolting had started again with a vengeance.  I thought I was actually going to have to utilize my new knowledge of how to deal with a fit.  We got him home and stabilized – of course with alcohol, but for now that worked.  We stayed in that night and watched a film.  That was the second night he managed to actually come to bed.

Sunday was ropey again.  But he managed to help me cook and get some sleep in before he went to work that night.  Monday managed to be a beer only day, and he finally emailed the counselor I had told him about, which was an enormous step.  Tuesday the rum re-appeared, and it turned out that the drinking had started at work again.

I barely concentrated at work that day.  I was in a complete world of my own.  How I managed not to cry at my desk is beyond me.  But I wrote a list.  I wrote a list of things I wanted to talk to him about.  A physical list because I knew if I didn’t write it down I wouldn’t say it.  It made me do it.

He was up when I got home from work that night, and with list in hand we went and cuddled in bed while I worked through it.  It was the hardest thing I have ever done.  My partner was supposed to be going away for work.  This was going to involve a long period of sitting and waiting without access to alcohol.  I sat there and I told him there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to go.  He couldn’t even go 2 hours without alcohol in his system at the moment, he wouldn’t even make it to the plane.  If he pushed himself like that he was actually going to kill himself.  The reality of that had become all too real.

His body could no longer function without alcohol in it.

I also told him I was fed up of our weekends revolving around starting to detox him and then it all going to shit over the weekdays.  Something had to change.  He needed help.

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Our Story – Part 7

 

The last time I blogged was about a month ago.

So much has happened in this time I have neither had the opportunity nor the emotional capacity to write.

I spoke to him like I said I would in my previous post.  Not as openly and honestly as I’d hoped, but we spoke none-the-less.  It didn’t achieve much, but there was a small attempt on his behalf to improve, followed by another rapid decline back to where we had begun.

Last Tuesday I broke.  Last Tuesday I stopped being afraid of hurting feelings and causing upset and I spoke my mind.  We’ll get to that though.

About 3 weeks ago we had a pretty busy weekend.  One of my best friends was leaving, so we had a going away for him, and then we had two days at Comic Con.  The week before was manic for me preparing costumes and party decorations.

He helped me cook on the Friday, eventually.  Working nights doesn’t suit him particularly well, especially with the morning drinking before bed.  The party went without a hitch, apart from his manic depressant side coming out about 9pm.  Everyone else left our house about 10 to go out.  I managed to cheer him up enough to take him to get kebab – a challenge when he was pretty drunk, which is quite a rare occurrence.  Of course he fell asleep on the couch that night.  It still upsets me when this happens even though it is incredibly common.

I sat with him for a while that night trying to persuade him to move, but it wasn’t a successful attempt.  Instead it led to a conversation where he told me that he liked me a lot, but he needed to be on his own and be making music like he used to.  He just needed to be alone.  It would be fair to say that I did not sleep well that night – I think that is hardly surprising.

He eventually came up around 9am the next morning.  I was sulking in bed having gotten up to make myself tea and have a cigarette and ignored him even though I could see he was awake on the couch.  I told him he was an ass.  For sleeping on the couch? He asked.  Do you not remember what you said to me last night? I asked.  He didn’t.  I told him.

What followed was a tense half hour of trying to get him to speak whilst he stomped around muttering to himself what an ass he was.  That wasn’t what he wanted he assured me.  It didn’t do much for my insecurities though.

We managed to get to Comic Con eventually early afternoon.  We had a really nice afternoon, the people watching is my favourite.  It was warm too which meant we were able to sit outside and just have time.  That evening we ate dinner with our friends, they decided to go out but we stayed in and watched a film.  It was a lovely evening.  I certainly don’t miss going out and partying – I’m getting too old for that!!

The next morning he wasn’t well.  He hadn’t taken his normal medication the day before and had forgotten to bring it with him.  We went for breakfast in the hope it would make him feel better.  It didn’t.

This left the 6 of us who were there in an awkward situation.  We had 2 cars there, my partner needed to go home, which was an hour and a half drive away, and another of our friends needed taking to the airport which was an hour in the wrong direction of coming home at the end of the day.  I desperately wanted to take my friend to the airport to see him off, but I also didn’t want someone else to miss out on their day by taking my partner home.  I ended up driving him home and then going back for a few hours of the show and then on to the airport.  By the time I got back that night I was exhausted.

In hindsight, this was the first glimpse of physical side effects that we got.  His drinking was drastically reduced that weekend and he paid for it.  Being at home and having a few beers sorted him out.  Unfortunately that didn’t do anything for my tiredness.

The next weekend was bonfire night.  We had arranged to go to see fireworks with friends on the Friday night.  It fitted well, he sleeps during the day and would be awake in time to go and see them.  Our friends were at the house by the time I got home from work. He was, of course, asleep on the couch.  I managed to wake him and get him upstairs to change but I didn’t get much further than that.  He felt unwell and refused to leave the house.  So I ended up going alone.  This upset me a lot.  I was starting to get tired of missing things because of his drinking and the subsequent feeling unwell.  I didn’t miss the fireworks, but it was something I was looking forward to doing with him.  By the time we got back he was up and drinking again.  He looked so ill.  I can’t remember if he made it to bed that night or not, he probably did eventually, I lose track of it.

That Saturday was his self designated stop drinking day. He researched online and found some non-medical withdrawal relief and set a date.  We had a lazy morning and I went out with a friend and left him a list of chores as a distraction and he went off to the post office to pick up the withdrawal meds.

Looking back I have regretted that escape time I had that day.  I desperately needed it, to have a break and some time with my friend, but not drinking made him incredibly ill.  He was incredibly restless and had really bad shakes.  He was messaging me while I was out – the only thing that stopped the shaking was alcohol.  I regret it because I was not there for him.  It’s a really sad way to feel because I should be able to go out and do things without worrying about my alcoholic boyfriend having an episode.

By the time I got home he had stabilised.  He had done more research online.  Cold turkey was not a good idea.  He was just going to drink beer until the physical withdrawal symptoms calmed down and then eventually he would wean himself off that.

Physical withdrawal symptoms were new, and worst than that, for me, they were absolutely terrifying.  Sometimes he’d look like he was almost convulsing.  The twitch had moved from just being his eyebrow to his whole body shifting like a sudden shrug. Time for me to go back and see my counsellor!

Picture source:http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/02761/Larrain_Trafalgar__2761355c.jpg

Our Story – Part 6

​The two dry weeks prior to his training course was probably poorly timed. He talked about ways he could avoid the end of day drinking sessions. I think we both knew that was a bit of a pipe dream and the reality once he was there would be very different. 

The reality was different. 

For three weeks I received almost daily messages of how he needed to get back here. To me. To a place where he didn’t drink. That drinking made him an asshole. That I deserved better than drunk him. That he wanted to change and not be like that. 

It’s OK, I said, when you’re back you can try again. Things can be better again. 

I was full of hope. Things were going to be different. Things were going to change. This was really going to happen. And, for 24 hours, things did change. Right up until I went back to work on the Tuesday after his return and he was left to his own devices. 

It was different though. Something in his head had shifted and his behavior regarding his drinking had changed.  There was an embarrassment about it now. Instead of the bottles of rum being left out on the coffee table openly they were now tucked down beside the couch or hidden beside the bed. One night a sat down on the couch next to him right on top of one hidden under a blanket. Not a particularly pleasant experience for my butt, but it triggered the conversation and him admitting he was ashamed by his drinking. 

More recently I have taken a to using a different coping strategy for dealing with it, I have been ignoring it. Not commenting on it. Still looking for bottles and keeping a mental tab of consumption but not questioning or mentioning it. I’m not sure if it’s the best way to manage the situation but it’s given me some breathing space.

Has it helped? Not really. I still find myself living for Sunday’s when there is no alcohol consumption and I get to enjoy my partner sober. 

This last weekend he decided that he needed to take more care of himself. He gave it a good 48 hours effort. Last night he admitted he was feeling withdrawall symptoms but they weren’t as bad as before and he hadn’t been having the hot flushes and problems sleeping like before. I have just received a message from Freddie showing the bottle of rum from this morning, 2/3rds consumed.  Ignoring it is clearly not working. Tonight I am going to try and talk to him about it in the hope that maybe we can get somewhere. 

Maybe we will, maybe we won’t. But unless I try I won’t know. 

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Our Story – Part 5

We’re gonna back up a bit to part way through part four of our story because there was a big dynamic shift with the arrival of one of our mutual best friends back in the country. 

A different friend to the one who left just before attempt one of being dry, one who’d left a lot earlier in the year and was now returning in anticipation of starting school in the autumn. 

Our situation is a little odd. Because we were friends for so long before we started dating our friendship group is almost identical, and we share one of our closest friends. The weirdness works quite well. I’m a talker and like to get my problems and worries out of my head so I talk to this friend. My partner is not a talker so they share a more boy talk style of relationship. 

This friend, we’ll call him Freddie to try and mitigate confusion, knows everything. He has always been my first point of contact when I’ve needed someone to talk to. He is the person I cried over Skype to when I found the self harming for the first time. Who I pour my heart to about how I feel about my partners drinking, what I worry about, what he’s done and what is going on. 

For Freddie to experience what I live through first hand has been eye opening for him. It’s immersed him fully in the day to day reality of the mood swings and couch sleeping. 

One night he struck a deal with him, a no liquor pact. Just beer. This last about a week but it reduced the depressive mood and improved his sleeping pattern. 

For my partner, having one of his best friends around again has definitely helped, they have boy chat about gaming and general banter, it has definitely lifted his spirits. For me, I appreciate the support and the daily updates of what I’m coming home too. It helps me mentally prepare for what I am going to face when I walk in the door. 

Is it a fair situation for Freddie to be living in? Possibly not. But he knew what he was coming back to and he chooses to stay. When he first moved in my partner was still spending 4 days a week at his flat.

Both Freddie and I would love nothing more than for my partner to get back in control of his situation, but we both know we can’t push it. It has to be his decision to change, so for now, we have resorted to keeping our stash of alcohol on Freddie’s room and our fingers firmly crossed. 

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Out Story – Part 4

My partner doesn’t want to be an alcoholic. It’s a struggle he faces every day. Getting sober is a dream he has but the reality of getting there is a lot harder than I think either of us anticipated. 

Attempt Number 1

Attempt Number 1 followed one of his best friends moving abroad. Literally the day he left. 

This took me by surprise because my partner isn’t very good at talking about how he feels or what affects him so I assumed that we were going to lose a week to heavy intoxication and me not seeing him. 

It was rough. The first week was horrendous. He sweated and shook and couldn’t sleep. He looked ill. 

From talking to my counsellor I understand that what he did was incredibly dangerous and caused a lot of stress on his body. This scared me. A lot. 

After 10 days the drinking started again. He was gutted. Angry at himself. That underlying self-loathing reemerged with a vengeance. 

It’s OK, I said, we knew this was going to be so hard. But now you know you can and that means you can win. 

Attempt Number 2

Following the stumble after attempt 1 he wanted to try again shortly after. 

This one lasted 3 days. There were the same issues with sleeping and shaking and this prompted a return to drinking to get sleep and stop shaking. 

Another period of self loathing began and the drinking continued for a while. 

Attempt Number 3

I read an article about the effect of alcohol on your body after you stop drinking, and, in all honesty, it terrified me. You can read it here.

I genuinely had no idea of how long it takes for your system to clear it out completely. 

I read it to my partner one evening and it shook him. I don’t think we get very well educated on what alcohol can do. It’s such an engrained part of our society. 

This prompted his third attempt at going sober. It wasn’t as rough physically as the first time had been, but it still affected his sleep considerably. 
We took a different approach to this attempt. He asked to stay at mine so that he could break the habit of coming home from work and cracking a beer. To be somewhere different and start a new routine. This proved to help a lot. He’d potter about with the pets and although sleep was an issue he managed to not buy alcohol.

Week two was considerably better though. He slept well. He was active, alert, the vibrant person I love to see. 

Unfortunately this two weeks fell just before he went away on a 3 week training course. A course he didn’t want to go on. And a lot of travelling he didn’t want to do. The day before he left he came home with rum. 

We spoke about the rum, in fact I found out he had it because I asked if he got alcohol cravings like I got nicotine cravings when I quit smoking. 

Yes, he said, and to be honest I’m drinking right now because I don’t know how else to handle the stress I’m feeling today because I don’t want to go away. 

I cried that day. In front of him. I don’t get him see how his drinking affects me very often. I try to keep that all contained. To protect him. In hindsight I don’t think it’s the best way to handle the situation because it makes it look like I’m OK with it. 

Do you have any idea how heart breaking it is watching your boyfriend sit there and just drink a bottle of rum like that? I asked. It’s so sad to see.

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My Reality – Why I Stay

I find myself in a very privileged position when it comes to the question of why I stay. I don’t get asked it very often. My partner and I met through our friendship group and therefore we share friends. Everyone knows him and everyone knows me. There is an underlying understanding of why I stay because they see what I see. They are not outside looking in. 

The first person who asked me was the alcohol counsellor I see from time to time when I need extra support/can afford it. It is a question I had never asked myself or even considered. 

There is a long and a short answer to this question.

The short answer is that I stay because I love him. It is also because he provides me with the love and support I need – which may come across as surprising, but, to date, whenever I have needed him he has been there for me 100%  

The long answer is as follows…

There is no short or simple answer. It’s an incredibly complex situation that I can’t completely explain. I don’t want anyone to thing that I look at this situation through rose tinted glasses. There is one simple fact that has to be laid out from the start: I can not fix him. 

For me this isn’t a project with an idealised plan of events and perfect ending. Our relationship consists of him, me, and a massive demon that sits in the corner all the time. The fight is his, not mine. 

My decision to stay is based on a number of acceptances.  

The first is the above. It’s his fight. I can support him and deal with the fall out, but I can’t fight it. 

The second is that some days I am dealing with a 6’2″ five year-old. Some days shit isn’t going to happen. A drunk stupor on the couch that doesn’t want to move or talk or interact in anyway is going to happen instead. 

The third is that when it’s good you seize it with both hands and hang on to it as long as you can. You appreciate it all. You enjoy all things that attracted you to him in the first place and remember that it is all worthwhile and things are capable of getting better. 

My question to you is this… How different is this to any other relationship? I have friends who go through this exact same thing with partners who barely drink. You can replace the alcoholism with any other emotional or physical challenge we all face in our lives and you get similar outcomes to the above. I for one become a 6’0″ toddler when I am hungry or over tired so I really can’t judge too hard.

It is, however, exhausting and infuriating at times. There are days I don’t want to deal with the shit. I think it’s OK to accept a mixture of days. To know you’ll have good and bad. 

I do have a breaking point though, I don’t know what it is yet but I’ll know when it arrives. For now the good out weighs the bad and that is enough for me. 

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