When you live in a family that has been deeply affected by alcoholism and addiction you get used to having your feelings hurt. In fact, at some point it becomes par for the course. He didn't show up for such and such. She embarrassed you at a party. All of that just becomes part of the life. But when I see that "part of the life" spill over onto my son something rages within me.
On the 28th of December we were invited to dinner at FIL's house. I wasn't sure I wanted to go, DH wasn't sure he wanted to go but it was one of the FEW events that his dad had invited us to so we felt like we should make an effort for the good of the cause.
On Friday the 26th we called his dad to see about a gift exchange. We had not purchased a gift for FIL or Step-MIL but were going to have family pictures taken on Saturday so figured we could get something at the mall if needed. Last year we went all out, got FIL, Step-MIL and the step-nieces something. We got nothing.
Now I'm not one to keep score. But I just figured that this year we would take a wait and see approach. Especially since we went to a lot of trouble to find something that we thought FIL would like last year and so far that gift sits in a closet. So we thought, why make the effort.
Anyway, we called and he told us that we were not doing gifts right now. That this was just a dinner and that we would do gifts when SIL was back at the end of January. Perfect. So Sunday rolls around and we head over to dinner. Munchkin took an early nap but was still in bed at 1:00 when we were supposed to be eating so DH headed over first and I followed at 1:30 when Munchkin woke up.
The first thing I noticed when I pulled into the driveway were all the cars. DH and I were under the impression that this was just FIL, Step-MIL and the Step-sisters. In fact, that was not what this was at all. This was Step-MIL's entire family. Sisters, parents, cousins, nieces, nephews, the whole schebang. And then us. I began to wonder immediately why FIL even invited us.
The second thing I noticed when I walked in the door was a huge pile of presents in the corner. Well that and the Wii, new washer and dryer, and new flat screen TV in the basement. (Didn't they just file bankruptcy??) When I saw the presents I immediately wondered what I was walking into but I thought if there are presents for the kids fine. We will just give FIL something later.
So we ate dinner and DH and Munchkin were playing downstairs trying to avoid Step-cousin who was someone DH did drugs with. Why again would FIL invite us over knowing that he would be there? Oh yeah... he's CLUELESS.
About 15 minutes later one of the cousins came down from upstairs and said we are going to open presents now and FIL looks at Munchkin and says Munchkin do you want to come upstairs and watch. What? My head just about exploded right there. He wanted my two year old to go upstairs and watch everyone ELSE open presents? Surely he couldn't be that heartless!!
But alas, it was so. When we got upstairs I heard some whispering about someone not getting a present. I thought it was another little boy there who has a name similar to Munchkin but it wasn't. It was munchkin. So one of the step-sisters takes a magic marker and writes over the 1st letter of this little boys name to spell my son's name and then laughs and hands it to Munchkin. They spelled his name wrong. I'm just fixing it.
WTF?? They didn't spell his name wrong. They didn't get him anything. So the mayhem begins. All the kids open 4 - 5 presents and there sits my kid with his $2 wooden truck. The little boy who is about his age, with the similar name, got a Thomas the Train set and Munchkin's eyes got really big.
The little boy brought it over to FIL to help open and then wandered off. While FIL was opening it Munchkin was right there telling him all about Thomas. Then as soon as he starts to get the pieces off the little boy comes back and shoves Munchkin out of the way. Munchkin's lip starts to quiver and he looks at me with that look. The one that says why didn't I get any Thomas toys mommy? Why don't I have anything to play with?
That was it, I lost it right there in the living room. Tears were rolling down my face and I kept wiping them away hoping no one would see. I was blocked in and couldn't escape to the bathroom so I had to just sit there, hugging my son and crying for his heartache. DH tried to ask me what was wrong but I couldn't talk to him. I knew that if I tried to say anything I would really break down.
Finally I got ahold of myself enough to get out of there without making a scene and I headed to the bathroom where I proceeded to break down again. Once I was done in the bathroom I marched back into the living room, grabbed Munchkin and proceeded to leave with him. I didn't say goodbye to anyone, except FIL who followed me out. I left DH there to explain why I was leaving and I took Munchkin to Target and promptly bought him a Thomas the Train set.
When asked by DH why there were not presents for Munchkin the answer that was given was that FIL didn't buy any presents for anyone. Who the F*&K cares?? Really? Are you that clueless? I can't explain to my two year old that he didn't get a present because the presents were from the Step-grandparents. Didn't Step-MIL, the one who is always complaining about how she wants us to feel like a part of the family, think about my son? Oh wait...no. No one did because as much as they want to play marter and say it is all our fault that FIL doesn't see us it is all on them.
I will NOT be taking my son to another one of their "family" gatherings. When SIL is back we are supposed to have a family Christmas over there with FIL's family. They love Munchkin and treat him no different that the grand kids they see weekly. I will go there for that. Otherwise if FIL wants to see Munchkin he knows were we live. 15 minutes from his house, but perhaps that is too far to drive, I'm not sure I can make the drive in that direction any more either.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Dreams... they are Back
Last night the dreams started again. Reliving things from my past through strange dreams about the present.
Last night I was pregnant. I was in the hospital having the baby but I couldn't get a hold of DH. I kept calling and I couldn't get an outside line. Then it wouldn't ring. Finally I got a hold of him and asked him where he was and where Munchkin was.
These dreams tell me that I'm not done telling my story here. They remind me that I need to get back to it......
Last night I was pregnant. I was in the hospital having the baby but I couldn't get a hold of DH. I kept calling and I couldn't get an outside line. Then it wouldn't ring. Finally I got a hold of him and asked him where he was and where Munchkin was.
These dreams tell me that I'm not done telling my story here. They remind me that I need to get back to it......
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Who is this man I married?
Some days I'm sitting at home and there he is. On the couch, in the kitchen and I think who is this man? At the risk of admitting my mother was right, I think on this one... she might have been. She told me that I should marry a man I have something in common with so we would have things to do together and things to talk about. I ignored her. Love conquers all right?
I was wrong. Oh how there are days when I wish I could talk to him about something complex and he would be able to carry on a conversation with me. He can't. And there are days I think if I hear one more thing about hunting or fishing or whatever my head might just explode.
We are, to the core, totally and completely different. He was the bad boy, I was the good girl. He likes to hunt, fish, be outdoorsy. I prefer to only venture outside when the whether is between about 65 -75. No too hot, not too cold, not too much wind.
My favorite past time is blogging. Reading blogs, writing blogs, being on line, etc. He barely even knows how to get on the Internet. Let alone type anything. I can't tell him about my work or my on-line stuff without getting this blank stare from him. Just as he can't tell me about his work or his hunting or fishing without getting the same blank stare from me.
Yet somehow, when I saw him in the kitchen last night playing Where's Munchkin? There he is... my heart just melted. Somewhere in there is the man I fell in love with but some days I wonder if he isn't buried to deep to ever get out. Maybe I've changed, maybe he's changed. Will we ever be able to get back to that place where we would hang out non-stop and talk for hours on the phone?
As much as I complain about him and want things to be different, a deep part of me loves him for just the person he is. I just wonder if that is enough to keep me interested for as long as we both shall live. And more importantly can we get back to a place where it is healthy for both of us to be in this relationship. Past all of the hurt and the anger to where we both started out. Two young kids who thought love was enough to fix anything.
I was wrong. Oh how there are days when I wish I could talk to him about something complex and he would be able to carry on a conversation with me. He can't. And there are days I think if I hear one more thing about hunting or fishing or whatever my head might just explode.
We are, to the core, totally and completely different. He was the bad boy, I was the good girl. He likes to hunt, fish, be outdoorsy. I prefer to only venture outside when the whether is between about 65 -75. No too hot, not too cold, not too much wind.
My favorite past time is blogging. Reading blogs, writing blogs, being on line, etc. He barely even knows how to get on the Internet. Let alone type anything. I can't tell him about my work or my on-line stuff without getting this blank stare from him. Just as he can't tell me about his work or his hunting or fishing without getting the same blank stare from me.
Yet somehow, when I saw him in the kitchen last night playing Where's Munchkin? There he is... my heart just melted. Somewhere in there is the man I fell in love with but some days I wonder if he isn't buried to deep to ever get out. Maybe I've changed, maybe he's changed. Will we ever be able to get back to that place where we would hang out non-stop and talk for hours on the phone?
As much as I complain about him and want things to be different, a deep part of me loves him for just the person he is. I just wonder if that is enough to keep me interested for as long as we both shall live. And more importantly can we get back to a place where it is healthy for both of us to be in this relationship. Past all of the hurt and the anger to where we both started out. Two young kids who thought love was enough to fix anything.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Anger/Frustration/Fear
It's 5:55 am. The house is dark, DH has already left for work and I am alone with two dogs and a kid. With any luck I will have a good half an hour before Munchkin wakes up. I was in the shower when he left.
Where are the dogs?
Upstairs?
Great, thanks....
Welcome to my weekend.
I get out of the shower, there is a coffee cup on the counter. Would it KILL him to put it in the dishwasher. The dishwasher that he just emptied and re-loaded. That he stomped about doing because he shouldn't "have" to re-load it. Can't he just hide the dishes in the oven?
Last night... last night I asked him to help me get things picked up for the cleaning lady. Last night it was, I'm too tired, I'm going to bed. I'll do it in the morning. Too tired?? Seriously... HOW is that possible?
Oh wait, there's the top to his bag of chips and the scissors are also laying on the counter. I pick up the garbage go to throw it away and the can is full. DAMN!! One more thing I have to do. I can guarantee you he did not take the garbage to the curb.
Let's start at the beginning. Thursday. He calls me at 4:30. He wants to know when we are going trick or treating. The guy he's working with is going back out to drill a couple more holes and he wanted to know if he could go with him. We were meeting his dad at 5:00. He gets MAD when I tell him this. As if it is a big inconvenience to him to have to leave work to trick or treat with his son.
Finally I just tell him to do what he needs to. I am slowly learning that his actions are NOT a reflection on me. I'm not a bad mom if he misses trick or treating. It was not MY decision. Finally he tells me he's leaving. He's mad, but he's coming. Mad because he has to spend time with his child??
Friday night. He's working. AGAIN. Look I like the money but I'm not really all that fond of the person he is becoming. He's tired... A LOT. When he's home he just wants to sit on the couch because he's had a long day. Well that's great... explain that to a two year old who hasn't seen you all day and just wants to play.
So he misses the meeting on Friday. He's missed a lot of meetings lately. That is not helping things. If you know anything about people in recovery meetings are their life lines. If they miss too many they start to become angry, irrational, frustrated. That seems to be DH's constant state of being right now.
He meets us for dinner after the meeting. He is dirty and tired but seems to be in pretty good spirits. We eat and I chat with my Al-anon friends. I realize that I do not pay attention to his conversation all night. This is MILES from where we were a few months ago, especially a few years ago. I was never able to have my own conversation at dinner because I was too busy listening to him to make sure he didn't say anything stupid or say anything that would embarrass me.
Saturday, he's working again. I'm with Munchkin all day. He's sort of clingy and I wonder if he's not noticing that DH is gone all the time. We play, he naps and the day seems to go fine. I send DH a text about going to dinner at 10:30 in the morning. His friend calls him about fishing at 12:00. When he calls me at 2:00 can you guess what he is talking about?
I have been home all day with Munchkin. He has been working and now he wants to be gone some more? He gets short with me. Upset that I would even suggest he change plans. Finally at 4:00 he is done working. He calls me, his friend went fishing without him. I guess I'm second best and he will settle for doing dinner and a movie with me.
We get ready. He plays with munchkin for a little bit. Although you can tell what he really wants to do is just sit on the couch. Then we take Munchkin to grandma's and we go to dinner. Munchkin is staying all night so we will be able to sleep in, perhaps be romantic.
No such luck. Our entire evening is filled with his little snips at me. We leave his mom's and he needs coffee. If I expect him to stay awake we need to go get it. Not just any coffee, mind you, a $5 mocca espresso thing. FIVE DOLLARS??
Then dinner. He didn't even want to go. Said we couldn't afford it and then he orders the most expensive thing on the menu. That is two nights in a row. If he thinks we are so poor (we're not, by the way) why does he keep ordering the MOST expensive thing?
Dinner goes well. Again I notice my ability to have my own conversation. Live my own life. It feels good. He talks with my friends husband. They chat and laugh, I miss it all, so engrossed with her in our own conversation. It feels good.
We leave and head to the movie. He hints at how tired he is. How he's unsure he can stay awake. Exasperated I just say would you just like to go home. No, no.. he's fine. He's sure he'll be fine. In the lobby, he is not fine. We have to wait. They printed the wrong movie times and he's standing. His feet hurt he needs to sit down. He's grouchy, after about 10 minutes I consider cutting my losses and just going home.
We wait it out. The movie goes fine but the car ride home, not so much. He is short with me, then as we are pulling in to feed the horses he drops the bomb of the evening. With us there is always something. One thing that takes a perfectly good evening, drops it off a cliff and then runs down and stomps on it, just to make sure it is really dead. Tonight it was him...
So, this guy I'm working with has a small pickup with like 200,000 miles on it that he is wanting to sell for like $3,000. All I can think in my mind is are you an idiot? And since it is 12:30 at night, or in the morning as the case may be, and my filter on my mouth doesn't work really well at that time that is essentially what ends up coming out of my mouth.
We just bought his car two or three months ago. We are NEVER going to get out of it what we bought it for. It runs fine and has MUCH less miles than 200,000. Why would we make such a trade?
He says he's just worried about the winter and us having two cars. Really? Are you kidding me? We have a neighbor, he can plow us out. We do not need a small pickup to do that. Where is his brain? Doesn't he think about these things?
I get out, feed the horses. When I get back in the car he's talking about something else. I tell him that I'm sorry that I snapped at him but I don't think we can get $3,000 for his car and it seems like a really stupid move to set ourselves back AGAIN right now.
What I'm thinking is for the love of god. I'm just NOW trying to get our debts paid off. Why would you add to that debt? Can't we just try to get ahead? Is that so difficult. From the way he reacted, I might as well have just said what I was thinking. It would have gone over just as well.
He's angry. I'm sure he called me names as he stomped out of the car and slammed the door. I just sit there. The engine running. He gets the dogs, comes back, opens up the door. I can tell he wants to fight. I don't want to. What am I doing? Why aren't I getting out? Why do I think he's so stupid?
That's the last straw. He slams the door again and I roll down the window. Perhaps you need to examine how you feel about yourself. I never said you were stupid, nor did I imply it. If you think people think that way about you maybe you need to examine your own self esteem.
He's standing there. Just waiting for me by the door. Why? A year ago he would have been glad I was sitting in the car. Why is he waiting now? I finally shut off the car and he storms inside. The conversation is much the same inside. Me saying he needs to go to more meetings, stop being so angry all the time.
Him trying to turn everything around. It is my fault not his. I'm the one who treats him like he is an idiot. No, I do not. Nor have I ever said that to you. I don't call you names, I don't treat you badly and I am VERY proud of the fact that you are trying to provide for our family and I've TOLD you that several times.
By this point I'm crying. It is NOT my job to fix him. He needs to fix himself. He gets upset, maybe I do have low self esteem. I go upstairs. I go to Munchkin's room, I hold on to his blanket, sit in the rocking chair and just cry. Hot tears. Tears of exhaustion and frustration. Tears of anger.
I'm feeling stuck again. Who is this man I'm living with? This angry person who loves me one minute and hates me the next? Why am I here? I'm here because right now, at this very moment, it's not enough. It's not enough for me to make the ultimate sacrifice and that is to share my son. I can't do it right now. He loves both of us and I don't want to put him through that. More importantly I don't want to put me through that. I couldn't go more than a day without seeing him. I would miss him and I'm not strong enough for that.
So I take his blanket and I go to bed. I wake up throughout the night and it is still there, with me. It smells like him, my sweet baby. When I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is call MIL. How is Munchkin? Do I need to come get him? She is doing chores and is then going to take him to Grandma's house. She will call in a bit when she's ready for me to get him.
So I go downstairs. I eat something and chat a bit with DH. Nothing about last night. It's as if it didn't happen. Then I get my computer and go upstairs to work on my life story. He questions me. 20 questions. Where am I going? What am I going to work on? Why does he need to know? What business is it of his?
I work on my life story until MIL calls at 10:15. I finish what I'm working on and then go downstairs to get my coat. DH is asleep on the couch. He stirs momentarily and then goes back to sleep. I go to get Munchkin. I'm there for a little while chatting and then we head home. It is 11:30 and he falls asleep in the car.
We get home and I take him inside. DH is still asleep on the couch. I go upstairs and work on my life story some more. About 1:30 I lay down. I'm suddenly VERY tired.
About 3:05 I here Munchkin talking. He has been asleep for 3 1/2 hours. I should go get him. Just 5 more minutes. Perhaps DH will get him. He's been asleep ALL day!! He comes upstairs and gets Munchkin. They go downstairs but I can still here them. Guilt takes over, I think I should go down there, be with them.
I get out of bed. We putter around the house until about 4:20 when Munchkin asks to go outside. DH doesn't want to take him. He hasn't done much of anything with him all weekend but he's tired. WTF?? He's been asleep ALL DAY!! Finally he agrees. I get Munchkin's coat and socks and shoes on him and they go outside.
About 4:45 my phone receives a text. A friend wants me to walk with her. I agree and am getting ready as DH brings Munchkin inside. Well, 20 minutes outside. Gee... don't strain yourself. I mention to him that I am going on a walk and that I could take Munchkin or leave him here since he hasn't gotten to spend much time with him.
I go into the bathroom and I hear WALK, WALK, WALK. Apparently that is my answer. Way to take the easy way out. He has done nothing but sleep all day and I have been with Munchkin all day yesterday and today and NOW he wants me to take him with me.
I agree. I know Munchkin will have fun. I can see how excited he is already and I'm not going to disappoint him. We walk, it is fun and then we head home. When we get there I am sure that DH is sleeping but am surprised to see him still awake. I cook a pizza and cut up a piece for Munchkin.
DH has eaten. Him and Munchkin ate sandwiches at 3:30 so I ask him to sit with Munchkin so I can eat. He acts like it is a huge chore. Can't you just help him while you eat? I want to go sit on the couch?
When we are done it is 6:45. He wants to put Munchkin to bed so he can watch the Simpsons. I told him I'm not putting him to bed until closer to 7:30 so he doesn't get up at 5:30 again. He is pissed that he can't watch the Simpsons. That is NOT something I want my 2 year old learning from.
Finally around 7:20 I am in the other room picking up toys for the cleaning lady. I come into the living room to pick up some more toys and he has the nerve to say to me why don't you take him up to bed now? SERIOUSLY?? I am doing something, you are sitting your happy butt on the couch (his words not mine) why don't YOU take him to bed? He rolls his eyes but agrees to do it.
When he comes back down he tells me that he is tired and going to bed. He will just have to help me clean things in the morning... which is how we got to where we are now.
Up at 5:00 by 5:30 he's sitting on the couch wanting to drink coffee. 5:40 he's slamming dishes around in the kitchen because I had the gaul to suggest that he actually help me like he told me he would do. 5:50 he's out the door (even though he didn't need to leave until 6:00) with his trail of mess behind him leaving me to feed the dogs, put them in the pen, take out the garbage, drag the 100 lb green thing to the curb, dress the kid, clean his room and try to get out the door by 7:15.
Welcome to my world....
Where are the dogs?
Upstairs?
Great, thanks....
Welcome to my weekend.
I get out of the shower, there is a coffee cup on the counter. Would it KILL him to put it in the dishwasher. The dishwasher that he just emptied and re-loaded. That he stomped about doing because he shouldn't "have" to re-load it. Can't he just hide the dishes in the oven?
Last night... last night I asked him to help me get things picked up for the cleaning lady. Last night it was, I'm too tired, I'm going to bed. I'll do it in the morning. Too tired?? Seriously... HOW is that possible?
Oh wait, there's the top to his bag of chips and the scissors are also laying on the counter. I pick up the garbage go to throw it away and the can is full. DAMN!! One more thing I have to do. I can guarantee you he did not take the garbage to the curb.
Let's start at the beginning. Thursday. He calls me at 4:30. He wants to know when we are going trick or treating. The guy he's working with is going back out to drill a couple more holes and he wanted to know if he could go with him. We were meeting his dad at 5:00. He gets MAD when I tell him this. As if it is a big inconvenience to him to have to leave work to trick or treat with his son.
Finally I just tell him to do what he needs to. I am slowly learning that his actions are NOT a reflection on me. I'm not a bad mom if he misses trick or treating. It was not MY decision. Finally he tells me he's leaving. He's mad, but he's coming. Mad because he has to spend time with his child??
Friday night. He's working. AGAIN. Look I like the money but I'm not really all that fond of the person he is becoming. He's tired... A LOT. When he's home he just wants to sit on the couch because he's had a long day. Well that's great... explain that to a two year old who hasn't seen you all day and just wants to play.
So he misses the meeting on Friday. He's missed a lot of meetings lately. That is not helping things. If you know anything about people in recovery meetings are their life lines. If they miss too many they start to become angry, irrational, frustrated. That seems to be DH's constant state of being right now.
He meets us for dinner after the meeting. He is dirty and tired but seems to be in pretty good spirits. We eat and I chat with my Al-anon friends. I realize that I do not pay attention to his conversation all night. This is MILES from where we were a few months ago, especially a few years ago. I was never able to have my own conversation at dinner because I was too busy listening to him to make sure he didn't say anything stupid or say anything that would embarrass me.
Saturday, he's working again. I'm with Munchkin all day. He's sort of clingy and I wonder if he's not noticing that DH is gone all the time. We play, he naps and the day seems to go fine. I send DH a text about going to dinner at 10:30 in the morning. His friend calls him about fishing at 12:00. When he calls me at 2:00 can you guess what he is talking about?
I have been home all day with Munchkin. He has been working and now he wants to be gone some more? He gets short with me. Upset that I would even suggest he change plans. Finally at 4:00 he is done working. He calls me, his friend went fishing without him. I guess I'm second best and he will settle for doing dinner and a movie with me.
We get ready. He plays with munchkin for a little bit. Although you can tell what he really wants to do is just sit on the couch. Then we take Munchkin to grandma's and we go to dinner. Munchkin is staying all night so we will be able to sleep in, perhaps be romantic.
No such luck. Our entire evening is filled with his little snips at me. We leave his mom's and he needs coffee. If I expect him to stay awake we need to go get it. Not just any coffee, mind you, a $5 mocca espresso thing. FIVE DOLLARS??
Then dinner. He didn't even want to go. Said we couldn't afford it and then he orders the most expensive thing on the menu. That is two nights in a row. If he thinks we are so poor (we're not, by the way) why does he keep ordering the MOST expensive thing?
Dinner goes well. Again I notice my ability to have my own conversation. Live my own life. It feels good. He talks with my friends husband. They chat and laugh, I miss it all, so engrossed with her in our own conversation. It feels good.
We leave and head to the movie. He hints at how tired he is. How he's unsure he can stay awake. Exasperated I just say would you just like to go home. No, no.. he's fine. He's sure he'll be fine. In the lobby, he is not fine. We have to wait. They printed the wrong movie times and he's standing. His feet hurt he needs to sit down. He's grouchy, after about 10 minutes I consider cutting my losses and just going home.
We wait it out. The movie goes fine but the car ride home, not so much. He is short with me, then as we are pulling in to feed the horses he drops the bomb of the evening. With us there is always something. One thing that takes a perfectly good evening, drops it off a cliff and then runs down and stomps on it, just to make sure it is really dead. Tonight it was him...
So, this guy I'm working with has a small pickup with like 200,000 miles on it that he is wanting to sell for like $3,000. All I can think in my mind is are you an idiot? And since it is 12:30 at night, or in the morning as the case may be, and my filter on my mouth doesn't work really well at that time that is essentially what ends up coming out of my mouth.
We just bought his car two or three months ago. We are NEVER going to get out of it what we bought it for. It runs fine and has MUCH less miles than 200,000. Why would we make such a trade?
He says he's just worried about the winter and us having two cars. Really? Are you kidding me? We have a neighbor, he can plow us out. We do not need a small pickup to do that. Where is his brain? Doesn't he think about these things?
I get out, feed the horses. When I get back in the car he's talking about something else. I tell him that I'm sorry that I snapped at him but I don't think we can get $3,000 for his car and it seems like a really stupid move to set ourselves back AGAIN right now.
What I'm thinking is for the love of god. I'm just NOW trying to get our debts paid off. Why would you add to that debt? Can't we just try to get ahead? Is that so difficult. From the way he reacted, I might as well have just said what I was thinking. It would have gone over just as well.
He's angry. I'm sure he called me names as he stomped out of the car and slammed the door. I just sit there. The engine running. He gets the dogs, comes back, opens up the door. I can tell he wants to fight. I don't want to. What am I doing? Why aren't I getting out? Why do I think he's so stupid?
That's the last straw. He slams the door again and I roll down the window. Perhaps you need to examine how you feel about yourself. I never said you were stupid, nor did I imply it. If you think people think that way about you maybe you need to examine your own self esteem.
He's standing there. Just waiting for me by the door. Why? A year ago he would have been glad I was sitting in the car. Why is he waiting now? I finally shut off the car and he storms inside. The conversation is much the same inside. Me saying he needs to go to more meetings, stop being so angry all the time.
Him trying to turn everything around. It is my fault not his. I'm the one who treats him like he is an idiot. No, I do not. Nor have I ever said that to you. I don't call you names, I don't treat you badly and I am VERY proud of the fact that you are trying to provide for our family and I've TOLD you that several times.
By this point I'm crying. It is NOT my job to fix him. He needs to fix himself. He gets upset, maybe I do have low self esteem. I go upstairs. I go to Munchkin's room, I hold on to his blanket, sit in the rocking chair and just cry. Hot tears. Tears of exhaustion and frustration. Tears of anger.
I'm feeling stuck again. Who is this man I'm living with? This angry person who loves me one minute and hates me the next? Why am I here? I'm here because right now, at this very moment, it's not enough. It's not enough for me to make the ultimate sacrifice and that is to share my son. I can't do it right now. He loves both of us and I don't want to put him through that. More importantly I don't want to put me through that. I couldn't go more than a day without seeing him. I would miss him and I'm not strong enough for that.
So I take his blanket and I go to bed. I wake up throughout the night and it is still there, with me. It smells like him, my sweet baby. When I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is call MIL. How is Munchkin? Do I need to come get him? She is doing chores and is then going to take him to Grandma's house. She will call in a bit when she's ready for me to get him.
So I go downstairs. I eat something and chat a bit with DH. Nothing about last night. It's as if it didn't happen. Then I get my computer and go upstairs to work on my life story. He questions me. 20 questions. Where am I going? What am I going to work on? Why does he need to know? What business is it of his?
I work on my life story until MIL calls at 10:15. I finish what I'm working on and then go downstairs to get my coat. DH is asleep on the couch. He stirs momentarily and then goes back to sleep. I go to get Munchkin. I'm there for a little while chatting and then we head home. It is 11:30 and he falls asleep in the car.
We get home and I take him inside. DH is still asleep on the couch. I go upstairs and work on my life story some more. About 1:30 I lay down. I'm suddenly VERY tired.
About 3:05 I here Munchkin talking. He has been asleep for 3 1/2 hours. I should go get him. Just 5 more minutes. Perhaps DH will get him. He's been asleep ALL day!! He comes upstairs and gets Munchkin. They go downstairs but I can still here them. Guilt takes over, I think I should go down there, be with them.
I get out of bed. We putter around the house until about 4:20 when Munchkin asks to go outside. DH doesn't want to take him. He hasn't done much of anything with him all weekend but he's tired. WTF?? He's been asleep ALL DAY!! Finally he agrees. I get Munchkin's coat and socks and shoes on him and they go outside.
About 4:45 my phone receives a text. A friend wants me to walk with her. I agree and am getting ready as DH brings Munchkin inside. Well, 20 minutes outside. Gee... don't strain yourself. I mention to him that I am going on a walk and that I could take Munchkin or leave him here since he hasn't gotten to spend much time with him.
I go into the bathroom and I hear WALK, WALK, WALK. Apparently that is my answer. Way to take the easy way out. He has done nothing but sleep all day and I have been with Munchkin all day yesterday and today and NOW he wants me to take him with me.
I agree. I know Munchkin will have fun. I can see how excited he is already and I'm not going to disappoint him. We walk, it is fun and then we head home. When we get there I am sure that DH is sleeping but am surprised to see him still awake. I cook a pizza and cut up a piece for Munchkin.
DH has eaten. Him and Munchkin ate sandwiches at 3:30 so I ask him to sit with Munchkin so I can eat. He acts like it is a huge chore. Can't you just help him while you eat? I want to go sit on the couch?
When we are done it is 6:45. He wants to put Munchkin to bed so he can watch the Simpsons. I told him I'm not putting him to bed until closer to 7:30 so he doesn't get up at 5:30 again. He is pissed that he can't watch the Simpsons. That is NOT something I want my 2 year old learning from.
Finally around 7:20 I am in the other room picking up toys for the cleaning lady. I come into the living room to pick up some more toys and he has the nerve to say to me why don't you take him up to bed now? SERIOUSLY?? I am doing something, you are sitting your happy butt on the couch (his words not mine) why don't YOU take him to bed? He rolls his eyes but agrees to do it.
When he comes back down he tells me that he is tired and going to bed. He will just have to help me clean things in the morning... which is how we got to where we are now.
Up at 5:00 by 5:30 he's sitting on the couch wanting to drink coffee. 5:40 he's slamming dishes around in the kitchen because I had the gaul to suggest that he actually help me like he told me he would do. 5:50 he's out the door (even though he didn't need to leave until 6:00) with his trail of mess behind him leaving me to feed the dogs, put them in the pen, take out the garbage, drag the 100 lb green thing to the curb, dress the kid, clean his room and try to get out the door by 7:15.
Welcome to my world....
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Feelings
Brace yourself, I've got A LOT running through my head right now so this could be a long one.
I went and saw a movie tonight with some friends and it really got me thinking about a lot of things. It brought up a lot of "stuffed" feelings that I'm sure the creators of the movie never even intended. The movie we saw was The Secret Life of Bees and I would highly recommend it. Unless of course you are me and you have 10 years worth of pent up emotions just dying to get out. Then… maybe not so much.
So about that, this movie made me cry. If you have known me for any length of time you would know that this, in and of its self is AMAZING. Two weeks ago we saw Nights in Rodanthe and I cried at that movie too. Before that, it had been probably a good 5 years since I have cried in public. At anything. I could watch sad movies, talk about sad things, even go to funerals. Nothing. No tears. Both of my Grandmother's died in this time frame and the only tears I cried were during the actual funeral when everyone else was crying.
Someone asked me why I would come to this blog and write about all of these things that cause me pain. Why not just focus on the positive things in my life and move on. The reason is, because I can't. Because when I do that I end up going to a movie and then breaking down the minute I get into my car and bawling hysterically the whole way home.
Alcoholism [Addiction] has contributed to many dashed hopes, broken dreams, and considerable pain in my life. I do not wish to dwell on these feelings, but neither do I wish to turn my back on them. Al-Anon is helping me to face even the most unpleasant aspects of my past. […] I am able to feel the pain and mourn the losses, and then move on.
These feelings are a deep part of me; when they come knocking at the door of my awareness, I wish to open it and let them in […] only through this can I become whole and at peace.
-- Courage to Change, One Day at a Time in Al-Anon II
For me, I have spent so many years "stuffing" my feelings down I have essentially forgotten how to feel. There was a line in this movie that said sometimes people don't feel so that they can live. That was my life. It wasn't always that way. In the beginning I used to cry at a lot of things. He would call me a name or we would get in a fight and the emotions would come out. But over time you sort of become numb to all of it. The first time you are called a B!tch it really hurts but by the 50th time you just sort of take it all in stride.
Alcoholics / Addicts also tend to use those emotions to show that you are weaker than them. I remember several times breaking down crying and instead of getting sympathy or compassion from him I got ridicule. Stop being a baby. What are you crying for? After a little while of this, you just train yourself to stop crying. To hold it in and don’t' show any weakness. You train yourself how not to feel.
When I came to Al-Anon I didn’t' feel. […] When we had a child, I said, "No big deal, it's just another day. Nothing moved me at all. It was like being dead.
My Al-Anon friends assured me that I did have feelings, but I had lost touch with them through years of living with alcoholism [addiction] and denying every hint of anger, joy or sorrow. As I began to recover, I began to feel, and it was very confusing. For awhile I thought I might be getting sicker than ever because the feelings were so uncomfortable, but my Al-Anon friends assured me this was just part of the process.
-- Courage to Change, One Day at a Time in Al-Anon II
Now that I am starting to heal things are all starting to come back to me. Feelings that I thought I had stuffed so far down that they would never escape are suddenly coming flooding to the surface when I hear lines like why am I so unlovable? I spent a large portion of my time thinking that all of this was happening because DH didn't love me enough. That I had done something to make all of this happen and if I could just make him love me again he would want to stay home with me, want to be with our son.
None of that is true. He did drugs because he is an addict. Not because I was unlovable. When he would drink/do drugs he would get angry and violent. The dad in this movie is also that way and watching him go into fits of rage brought be spiraling back to that place in my life. Towards the end of the movie the little girl has a realization. She finally understands that her dad didn't hurt her because he didn't love her. He hurt her because he was hurting and he was lashing out at whomever was closest.
Somewhere deep inside I am slowly digging through all of those stuffed memories and repressed sadness, anger and joy. Slowly, I am learning to feel again.
I went and saw a movie tonight with some friends and it really got me thinking about a lot of things. It brought up a lot of "stuffed" feelings that I'm sure the creators of the movie never even intended. The movie we saw was The Secret Life of Bees and I would highly recommend it. Unless of course you are me and you have 10 years worth of pent up emotions just dying to get out. Then… maybe not so much.
So about that, this movie made me cry. If you have known me for any length of time you would know that this, in and of its self is AMAZING. Two weeks ago we saw Nights in Rodanthe and I cried at that movie too. Before that, it had been probably a good 5 years since I have cried in public. At anything. I could watch sad movies, talk about sad things, even go to funerals. Nothing. No tears. Both of my Grandmother's died in this time frame and the only tears I cried were during the actual funeral when everyone else was crying.
Someone asked me why I would come to this blog and write about all of these things that cause me pain. Why not just focus on the positive things in my life and move on. The reason is, because I can't. Because when I do that I end up going to a movie and then breaking down the minute I get into my car and bawling hysterically the whole way home.
Alcoholism [Addiction] has contributed to many dashed hopes, broken dreams, and considerable pain in my life. I do not wish to dwell on these feelings, but neither do I wish to turn my back on them. Al-Anon is helping me to face even the most unpleasant aspects of my past. […] I am able to feel the pain and mourn the losses, and then move on.
These feelings are a deep part of me; when they come knocking at the door of my awareness, I wish to open it and let them in […] only through this can I become whole and at peace.
-- Courage to Change, One Day at a Time in Al-Anon II
For me, I have spent so many years "stuffing" my feelings down I have essentially forgotten how to feel. There was a line in this movie that said sometimes people don't feel so that they can live. That was my life. It wasn't always that way. In the beginning I used to cry at a lot of things. He would call me a name or we would get in a fight and the emotions would come out. But over time you sort of become numb to all of it. The first time you are called a B!tch it really hurts but by the 50th time you just sort of take it all in stride.
Alcoholics / Addicts also tend to use those emotions to show that you are weaker than them. I remember several times breaking down crying and instead of getting sympathy or compassion from him I got ridicule. Stop being a baby. What are you crying for? After a little while of this, you just train yourself to stop crying. To hold it in and don’t' show any weakness. You train yourself how not to feel.
When I came to Al-Anon I didn’t' feel. […] When we had a child, I said, "No big deal, it's just another day. Nothing moved me at all. It was like being dead.
My Al-Anon friends assured me that I did have feelings, but I had lost touch with them through years of living with alcoholism [addiction] and denying every hint of anger, joy or sorrow. As I began to recover, I began to feel, and it was very confusing. For awhile I thought I might be getting sicker than ever because the feelings were so uncomfortable, but my Al-Anon friends assured me this was just part of the process.
-- Courage to Change, One Day at a Time in Al-Anon II
Now that I am starting to heal things are all starting to come back to me. Feelings that I thought I had stuffed so far down that they would never escape are suddenly coming flooding to the surface when I hear lines like why am I so unlovable? I spent a large portion of my time thinking that all of this was happening because DH didn't love me enough. That I had done something to make all of this happen and if I could just make him love me again he would want to stay home with me, want to be with our son.
None of that is true. He did drugs because he is an addict. Not because I was unlovable. When he would drink/do drugs he would get angry and violent. The dad in this movie is also that way and watching him go into fits of rage brought be spiraling back to that place in my life. Towards the end of the movie the little girl has a realization. She finally understands that her dad didn't hurt her because he didn't love her. He hurt her because he was hurting and he was lashing out at whomever was closest.
Somewhere deep inside I am slowly digging through all of those stuffed memories and repressed sadness, anger and joy. Slowly, I am learning to feel again.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Part III - CaCa's Story
**This is a guest post by a reader who refers to herself as CaCa.**
It all blurs together….sometime between high school and my first years in college I learned I had a half brother; my mom slipped it into conversation as if she had always known. All my life I longed for a sibling. After me, despite attempts and a miscarriage my mom was unable to bare more children.
After the divorce my PG “disowned” my BF, we never discussed him but he never told me of my half brother either. To be 20-ish and find out I have a brother who was only four years younger than me, it was like a dream come true, or so I thought.
I have the most amazing family. I have a dad who loves me and an entire family that welcomed me. Many cousins some of which, would later become my best friends. I have always had my maternal family: two wonderful grandparents that were more like a second set of parents, an aunt who was more like a sister and two uncles who would do anything to protect or provide for me. Then there was my mother. I wouldn’t trade her for the world and I knew with every fiber of my being that she was the best mother for me and a remarkable woman. That every decision she made she did so with a clear head, a heavy heart and only my best well being in mind. I had it all, right? Despite a life so full I had part of me missing.
By the time I learned of my brother I was old enough to make the decision to meet him. I remember that time vividly. We had spoke on the phone several times prior to meeting, so I knew of his upcoming football game. I saw this as the opportune time to meet him. Without his consent – I love surprises, my boyfriend (now my husband) and I jumped in the car and drove the two hours to get to him. I thought this way I could sit in the stands, watch him from afar and change my mind without any let downs. I didn’t though, we sat through his whole game as I anxiously awaited the end.
There he was coming out of the school with about five or six other guys, my boyfriend stood back as I walked forward. Without saying a word I tapped on his shoulder, he turned around and without a second thought he hugged me as if I had just flown in from across country, as if he knew me. He took me home with him, I met his mom, and we proceeded to spend three hours together that night.
Over the next several years we conversed on the telephone, shared emails, and visited on occasion. I made the huge decision to attend his high school graduation wondering who I would see or might run into. Turns out my BF came to my brother’s graduation, sadly when he saw me he left and didn’t venture to the after party. I felt bad for him, I felt like I ruined that time he at least could have had with our BF. At the after party we sat with my PG and later one of my paternal aunts who I did not remember or recognize. It is ironic how people act in our situation. My paternal aunt felt the need to fill me in on everything I missed without considering that maybe I didn’t miss it?
Shortly after, my brother joined the military and our conversations became fewer and further between. It was then the “weirdness” set in. Having a sister came so naturally to him. I wanted it to be for me to but it just never was. I think this feeling I could not shake came between my brother and me.
My mom longed for more children, my dad cared for me better than any dad I knew, and here I was longing for something they couldn’t give me and couldn’t have themselves.
A part of my life that didn’t come from the only thing I ever knew. A part of my life that I found, that they could never have. A part of my life they could never give me came from the one man that didn’t want me.
Guilt!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Comment Moderation
I just read your post and what I hear you saying is - Don't comment unless you are 100% supportive meaning you agree or don't comment at all? Is that what you meant to say or did I read it wrong?
Absolutely not!! Which means that once again I'm not making my point very effectively. So, Comment away. I feel a great responsibility for the people who tell their stories here. Real, or imagined, I just feel like if they come here to tell their story I don't want them to get bashed by someone who doesn't understand what it means to have loved an alcoholic / addict.
Someone who hasn't been to a family gathering and felt like crawling under a table when their addict / alcoholic did something stupid. Someone who hasn't had to bail their addict / alcoholic out of jail. Someone who hasn't heard the I'm sorry's and the things will be different. Someone who hasn't wanted with every fiber of their being to believe that this time it will be different. This time they will really change.
So to protect myself and others on this blog I'm turning on comment moderation. I want people to be able to comment but that way it will catch any hurtful or snide comments before they have a chance to hurt any one's feelings.
I would feel absolutely AWFUL if someone trusted me and this site to tell their story and then someone insensitive bashed them in the comments and they never came back. Or never felt like they could share any more of their story. I want people to feel safe here. I want people to be able to say whatever they want about their story and not feel attacked in any way.
Now, back to the real meaning of this blog because I have LOTS more to say.....
Absolutely not!! Which means that once again I'm not making my point very effectively. So, Comment away. I feel a great responsibility for the people who tell their stories here. Real, or imagined, I just feel like if they come here to tell their story I don't want them to get bashed by someone who doesn't understand what it means to have loved an alcoholic / addict.
Someone who hasn't been to a family gathering and felt like crawling under a table when their addict / alcoholic did something stupid. Someone who hasn't had to bail their addict / alcoholic out of jail. Someone who hasn't heard the I'm sorry's and the things will be different. Someone who hasn't wanted with every fiber of their being to believe that this time it will be different. This time they will really change.
So to protect myself and others on this blog I'm turning on comment moderation. I want people to be able to comment but that way it will catch any hurtful or snide comments before they have a chance to hurt any one's feelings.
I would feel absolutely AWFUL if someone trusted me and this site to tell their story and then someone insensitive bashed them in the comments and they never came back. Or never felt like they could share any more of their story. I want people to feel safe here. I want people to be able to say whatever they want about their story and not feel attacked in any way.
Now, back to the real meaning of this blog because I have LOTS more to say.....
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Personal
It has been mentioned to me that I seem to take some of the comments on this blog very personally. Even when someone is writing about someone else, I seem to get defensive.
Guilty as charged.
When I handed out this blog address I gave it to VERY specific people who I thought knew enough about my story to know things that I, or others who come here might take offence to. However, before the back story to this blog could be fully finished the address was given to some people who may not know all of my story. People who may or may not know what it is like to live in an alcoholic / addict situation.
The error is mine. I left the blog open because I wanted anyone who needed to be able to find it to do just that. I wanted anyone who is suffering to be able to find this blog and have a safe place to land, even if it is only for a momment.
I realize now that in doing that, I opened myself up to comments I was not ready to receive. In hindsight I would have not given anyone the address until the entire backstory from 1996 - present was written. But seeing as I am now working on that at a turtle's pace that could be awhile.
So for now, I want to explain myself a little and give those of you who are new a bit to think about. For me, the comments on this blog are very personal.
To quote from one of my favorite movies:
It wasn't personal. What is that supposed to mean? I am so sick of that. All that means is that it wasn't personal to you. But it was personal to me. It's *personal* to a lot of people. And what's so wrong with being personal, anyway? Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.
And if you still don't know than I would suggest that you practice one of the wonderful Al-anon principals and just pass on making a comment until you fully understand the person's situation.
Guilty as charged.
When I handed out this blog address I gave it to VERY specific people who I thought knew enough about my story to know things that I, or others who come here might take offence to. However, before the back story to this blog could be fully finished the address was given to some people who may not know all of my story. People who may or may not know what it is like to live in an alcoholic / addict situation.
The error is mine. I left the blog open because I wanted anyone who needed to be able to find it to do just that. I wanted anyone who is suffering to be able to find this blog and have a safe place to land, even if it is only for a momment.
I realize now that in doing that, I opened myself up to comments I was not ready to receive. In hindsight I would have not given anyone the address until the entire backstory from 1996 - present was written. But seeing as I am now working on that at a turtle's pace that could be awhile.
So for now, I want to explain myself a little and give those of you who are new a bit to think about. For me, the comments on this blog are very personal.
To quote from one of my favorite movies:
It wasn't personal. What is that supposed to mean? I am so sick of that. All that means is that it wasn't personal to you. But it was personal to me. It's *personal* to a lot of people. And what's so wrong with being personal, anyway? Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.
When you make a comment about something someone says you should make it as personal as possible. If you wouldn't say it to their face, you shouldn't write it on this blog. What you see here may be only half of a picture.
I come here because this is my safe place to fall and sometimes I fall really hard. I spend so much of my everyday life being happy and positive that sometimes I just need a place to come to let the rest of the junk out. But what I say here, is only half of my life. I write about the parts of my life that are affected by alcoholism / addiction. I'm not going to come on this blog and brag about how when I got home tonight my husband had cleaned the kitchen and made dinner. I will however be logging on when he has yelled at me or called me names or when he was lying on the couch while I was cleaning the house.
Things that I have not gotten to tell you about yet: being picked up and thrown across a room, staring down the barrell of a shotgun, dragging my 6 week old son to drug houses, leaving my son "home alone" to chase my husband down.
People in horrible situations often do horrible things. It is neither my place nor yours to judge the decisions that people make. This website is filled with people from all walks of life and I just ask that you consider that when you are making comments.
So, I guess to wrap up this long wrambling post I just want people to understand that this blog is very personal to me. And if you are going to make a comment on here, you better understand exactly who it is you are commenting about and what it is you are commenting about and if you don't know, then ask. There is an e-mail address over there on the right.
And if you still don't know than I would suggest that you practice one of the wonderful Al-anon principals and just pass on making a comment until you fully understand the person's situation.
Weakness
**This is a guest post from Jen**
"Jenny, are you sure you don't have any money? Check your pockets again."
I check again even though I know for sure there is nothing there.
We're walking to Des Moines right now. That's what Mommy told me when she finally arrived at the nursing home two hours late. I knew something was wrong as soon as she was late. This morning she dropped me off to visit Lily, the 94 year old neighbor who used to babysit me until she moved to the nursing home.
I was waiting in the lobby for her when she arrived on foot to get me. All I could think of was to get out of the building and away from the worried and pitying stares of the staff. I hate them.
She didn't tell me what happened but I can put things together pretty well by now.
There was a small incident that set him off. He escalated to the point where she had to run out the door - afraid. There was no chance to get her purse or the keys to the car. She just had to run.
Did you check all the way deep in your front pockets, Jenny? Are you sure you don't have a dime?
I check again for her. She has already walked across town to get me and now she tells me we are walking all the way to her work in Des Moines. I am skeptical of this from the start. I don't see how we can possibly walk this far. It takes a long time to get there by car. She wants to make a phone call but neither of us has even a dime for a payphone.
We've been walking along the highway for quite awhile now.
"Jenny. This isn't going to work. You can't walk fast enough - we won't get there before dark."
So now we've turned back towards Norwalk. I don't know where we're going. I'm not sure if she knows.
"If I could just borrow a car for the night. It's really no big deal - just a disagreement."
The phone rings at the Waltzes house. It is Daddy asking if they have seen us. We don't know the Waltzes that well - their daughter has babysat me, the husband likes to tinker with engines. They say, "No." they haven't seen us. I think they realize the urgency now and they are going to let us borrow their son's VW bug for the night.
Sitting now in the VW I am filled with a sense of physical relief. I don't think I've ever walked so far in my life. My legs hurt.
I'm excited now, too. It feels like an adventure now. It is just the two of us. We are going to spend the night at the pre-school my Mom directs. She says we will sleep in the cubbies with big pillows and I will be able to play with any of the toys I want - that we will play together.
There is also a sense of hope. Maybe we won't be going back this time. This time seems like it was really bad. Maybe it will be just the two of us from now on.
"Glenn. It's me. We're in Des Moines."
Stupid! No! Why is she calling him?? Why? I can see what's coming.
"I know. Okay. I'm sorry. Okay, we'll come home tonight. We'll be leaving in a few minutes"
So that's it. We're not spending the night. We're not sleeping in the cubbies and playing with the toys together. We're going home to him again.
We walked all that way for nothing. We went through all this for nothing.
She didn't even teach him a lesson.
We're driving in the little Bug that seemed so exciting before and we're going home.
I am so angry.
She is weak.
I hate weak.
I am not weak.
"Jenny, are you sure you don't have any money? Check your pockets again."
I check again even though I know for sure there is nothing there.
We're walking to Des Moines right now. That's what Mommy told me when she finally arrived at the nursing home two hours late. I knew something was wrong as soon as she was late. This morning she dropped me off to visit Lily, the 94 year old neighbor who used to babysit me until she moved to the nursing home.
I was waiting in the lobby for her when she arrived on foot to get me. All I could think of was to get out of the building and away from the worried and pitying stares of the staff. I hate them.
She didn't tell me what happened but I can put things together pretty well by now.
There was a small incident that set him off. He escalated to the point where she had to run out the door - afraid. There was no chance to get her purse or the keys to the car. She just had to run.
Did you check all the way deep in your front pockets, Jenny? Are you sure you don't have a dime?
I check again for her. She has already walked across town to get me and now she tells me we are walking all the way to her work in Des Moines. I am skeptical of this from the start. I don't see how we can possibly walk this far. It takes a long time to get there by car. She wants to make a phone call but neither of us has even a dime for a payphone.
We've been walking along the highway for quite awhile now.
"Jenny. This isn't going to work. You can't walk fast enough - we won't get there before dark."
So now we've turned back towards Norwalk. I don't know where we're going. I'm not sure if she knows.
"If I could just borrow a car for the night. It's really no big deal - just a disagreement."
The phone rings at the Waltzes house. It is Daddy asking if they have seen us. We don't know the Waltzes that well - their daughter has babysat me, the husband likes to tinker with engines. They say, "No." they haven't seen us. I think they realize the urgency now and they are going to let us borrow their son's VW bug for the night.
Sitting now in the VW I am filled with a sense of physical relief. I don't think I've ever walked so far in my life. My legs hurt.
I'm excited now, too. It feels like an adventure now. It is just the two of us. We are going to spend the night at the pre-school my Mom directs. She says we will sleep in the cubbies with big pillows and I will be able to play with any of the toys I want - that we will play together.
There is also a sense of hope. Maybe we won't be going back this time. This time seems like it was really bad. Maybe it will be just the two of us from now on.
"Glenn. It's me. We're in Des Moines."
Stupid! No! Why is she calling him?? Why? I can see what's coming.
"I know. Okay. I'm sorry. Okay, we'll come home tonight. We'll be leaving in a few minutes"
So that's it. We're not spending the night. We're not sleeping in the cubbies and playing with the toys together. We're going home to him again.
We walked all that way for nothing. We went through all this for nothing.
She didn't even teach him a lesson.
We're driving in the little Bug that seemed so exciting before and we're going home.
I am so angry.
She is weak.
I hate weak.
I am not weak.
Friday, October 10, 2008
The Couch
For years I have had a hate-hate relationship with our couch. Not really our couch even, all couches in general. I remember before DH and I moved in together we vowed that neither one of us would ever sleep on the couch and for awhile after we moved in I tried to enforce that rule.
When we were dating his dad slept on the couch. First out of necessity (his - he had a broken foot) and then out of more necessity (hers - she just couldn't stand him, the excuse was his snoring but I saw things differently). I think by the time I arrived in the picture their marriage was strained. By the time DH moved out it was just hanging on by a thread.
Eventually, after about a year, his dad got tired of sleeping on the couch and moved down to the bed that was in his mom's "office." Many an argument was had about whether that room was an office or his bedroom and if it was his bedroom what did that mean for their marriage. After DH moved out, the line was officially drawn. She turned that room into her "work room" and his dad moved into "his own room" which used to be DH's bedroom.
So, needless to say I had a BAD view of sleeping on the couch. And, it didn't get any better when we moved. DH liked to stay up late to "watch tv" on our couch. Which basically amounted to him sneaking out of the house to do drugs or sitting on our couch drinking as much as he could until he passed out.
When we first moved we had a different couch. It was not long enough for him to sleep on and stretch out but that didn't seem to stop him. I suppose when you are passed out from drugs or alcohol you don't particularly care where or how you sleep. After awhile, I stopped waking him. But I never slept. I would get up every hour or two just to peak down the stairs and see if he was still there, still asleep. It was about a 50-50 shot. Many a night I walked down the stairs to find the living room dark and him no where to be found.
Sometimes he was outside, many more times he had snuck out, gotten in his car and driven away. No rhyme or reason. I remember many times sitting there on that couch calling him over and over and over. Ring, ring, voicemail. Redial.... ring, ring, ring, ring, voicemail. Eventually he would just turn the phone off and I would just get voicemail. Then I would cry. Until I went to Al-anon I always wanted to know the reason why.
I remember just chanting over and over, pick up, pick up, pick up. I just wanted to ask him why. I thought if I talked to him I could make him come home. That I could win over the addiction, I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
On the nights that he would stay home the couch was often a dumping ground. There is a burn hole in our couch from something. (Also in one of our pairs of sheets for our bed) One side of our couch does not work, (it's a reclining couch) and I'm not sure if it is because of something he did or simply because it is a hand me down.
There were several days that he would get up after a night on the couch and I would stick my hand in the end to find the remote and instead would be greeted with a pipe, some drugs, a bottle cap, a beer bottle, etc. Things were hidden throughout our house but the couch seemed to be his favorite spot.
When DH left for treatment the couch was cleaned. I turned it over swept it out, cleaned all the crevices, dumped out all the memories and the bad feelings and then I sat on it. A lot. I played with munchkin, I laid on it after he went to bed, just tried to get the bad feeling to go away.
And for the most part, it has. That is probably the most used piece of furniture in our house. But still, at times, that lingering feeling is still there. Last week DH had a sinus infection. And he snored... BADLY. So he offered to sleep on the couch so that we could both get some sleep. I agreed but in the back of my mind there was still a nagging feeling.
Then I fell asleep, and when I woke up it was 6:00 and my alarm was going off. I think that is progress.
When we were dating his dad slept on the couch. First out of necessity (his - he had a broken foot) and then out of more necessity (hers - she just couldn't stand him, the excuse was his snoring but I saw things differently). I think by the time I arrived in the picture their marriage was strained. By the time DH moved out it was just hanging on by a thread.
Eventually, after about a year, his dad got tired of sleeping on the couch and moved down to the bed that was in his mom's "office." Many an argument was had about whether that room was an office or his bedroom and if it was his bedroom what did that mean for their marriage. After DH moved out, the line was officially drawn. She turned that room into her "work room" and his dad moved into "his own room" which used to be DH's bedroom.
So, needless to say I had a BAD view of sleeping on the couch. And, it didn't get any better when we moved. DH liked to stay up late to "watch tv" on our couch. Which basically amounted to him sneaking out of the house to do drugs or sitting on our couch drinking as much as he could until he passed out.
When we first moved we had a different couch. It was not long enough for him to sleep on and stretch out but that didn't seem to stop him. I suppose when you are passed out from drugs or alcohol you don't particularly care where or how you sleep. After awhile, I stopped waking him. But I never slept. I would get up every hour or two just to peak down the stairs and see if he was still there, still asleep. It was about a 50-50 shot. Many a night I walked down the stairs to find the living room dark and him no where to be found.
Sometimes he was outside, many more times he had snuck out, gotten in his car and driven away. No rhyme or reason. I remember many times sitting there on that couch calling him over and over and over. Ring, ring, voicemail. Redial.... ring, ring, ring, ring, voicemail. Eventually he would just turn the phone off and I would just get voicemail. Then I would cry. Until I went to Al-anon I always wanted to know the reason why.
I remember just chanting over and over, pick up, pick up, pick up. I just wanted to ask him why. I thought if I talked to him I could make him come home. That I could win over the addiction, I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
On the nights that he would stay home the couch was often a dumping ground. There is a burn hole in our couch from something. (Also in one of our pairs of sheets for our bed) One side of our couch does not work, (it's a reclining couch) and I'm not sure if it is because of something he did or simply because it is a hand me down.
There were several days that he would get up after a night on the couch and I would stick my hand in the end to find the remote and instead would be greeted with a pipe, some drugs, a bottle cap, a beer bottle, etc. Things were hidden throughout our house but the couch seemed to be his favorite spot.
When DH left for treatment the couch was cleaned. I turned it over swept it out, cleaned all the crevices, dumped out all the memories and the bad feelings and then I sat on it. A lot. I played with munchkin, I laid on it after he went to bed, just tried to get the bad feeling to go away.
And for the most part, it has. That is probably the most used piece of furniture in our house. But still, at times, that lingering feeling is still there. Last week DH had a sinus infection. And he snored... BADLY. So he offered to sleep on the couch so that we could both get some sleep. I agreed but in the back of my mind there was still a nagging feeling.
Then I fell asleep, and when I woke up it was 6:00 and my alarm was going off. I think that is progress.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Part 2 - CaCa's Story
**This is a guest post by a reader who chooses to refer to herself as CaCa**
Never forget a face; never forget a daughter became my issue throughout my childhood and adolescent years.
After my mom and BF divorced, a custody suit pursued. Let’s not kid ourselves, the custody suit was between my mom and my paternal grandmother who I have been told loved me but should have invested her energy toward some psychiatric care for herself. She attempted to hire local people that would testify to my mom being an unfit mother and having extramarital affairs. Neither of which could be further from the truth. In the end my BF was allowed one weekly supervised visit at my maternal grandparent’s house. I never saw him again.
When I was about four or five my paternal grandmother died and a relationship with my paternal grandfather (PG) ensued. He had always watched over my mom and I, the best he could considering; never missing a birthday or Christmas. I can remember when I was very little he would come to my maternal grandparent’s house which was only blocks from his to drop off my Christmas gift. Then when I was old enough my mom would let me call him to arrange my own visits often times dropping me off and picking me up there. It was always one on one time with Grandpa and soon his new wife. Over all those years of one on one time I lost touch and contact with any other paternal family member. My BF had four sisters; there was a whole family I didn’t know. My BF would make me an occasional gift one of which was a jewelry box with my name inscribed. He would leave it for me there and my PG would gift it to me.
Looking back over time I can’t remember a time my step dad and his family wasn’t in my life. Even though I could never choke out the name “dad”, he is every sense of the title and more, I refer to him as my dad – the name never rolled off my tongue easily. When I was 4 my mom and dad met and by the age of 8 they married. I was less than thrilled about sharing my mom and I remember feeling like I didn’t like him. He had long hair and drove a loud Harley that he built in our living room out of parts in five galloon buckets. He would pick me up from school on it: pull my waist length hair back in a ponytail, change me into an older shirt so the oil wouldn’t spray all over my uniform and away we would go. Looking back now I see the sweetness and the tender ways but then I longed for my mom to continue every step of my life which turned into wonder and this overwhelming personalization of why my BF never wanted me. He could see me, call me, send me anything, ask about me, something….yet he never did. Soon I had been sent off for my first day of kindergarten, switched from private to public school, joined sports, entered high school, started dating, excelled in choir, cheerleading, and swim team, graduated, went on to college, married, and bought a house.
He could have been across the street as I went through the double doors for my first day of school, he could have been a face in the crowd cheering me on, he could have been peeking through as I stood in my white dress, he could have been but I know he wasn’t because I never knew his face.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Part 1 - CaCa's Story
**This is a guest post by a reader who chooses to refer to herself as CaCa**
My mother got pregnant out of wedlock, married her high school sweetheart (my biological father = BF) shortly after, slapped by the reality of the person she thought she vowed to love and see forever with, regretfully entrusting the same person with her daughter, and shortly after divorcing looking back with no regret and facing a hopeful but scary future “alone”; just her and me. That’s the beginning of my story all wrapped up into one long winded sentence.
One long winded life belongs all to me. My mom learned of my BF’s drug addiction after they were married, which increasingly worsened over their sort time together. It was like a roller coaster from everything she has told me. He would try to get better even sobering for a while until the roller coaster fell and he crashed harder, then he would start to climb back up again. There were times when she didn’t realize the gravity of his addiction; she would have to entrust me with my BF. My mom was in the kitchen, I in the living room with my BF when she heard a heart dropping scream. I had bit my tongue in half. She says I tried to pull myself up onto the footstool my BF was relaxing on, she thinks I slipped and fell, but wonders if he moved his legs causing me to fall; either way not watching close enough – he wasn’t. He never did.
‘We never had much money so I would have to wait until Friday when your dad got paid to get groceries. This became a Friday night ritual; we would meet at the door. I always took you with me but this night it was a blizzard out and I didn’t want to take you out, so regretfully I left. I knew I wouldn’t be gone long; there wasn’t much money to spend. When I would get home from the store your dad would meet me at the bottom of the stairs to help me carry the groceries up. We lived on the upper level of an apartment house. Only this time he didn’t come down. I filled my arms, climbed the stores and tapped my foot against the door….nothing! When I got inside he was passed out in the living room, you had pulled the knife drawer out in the kitchen and locked yourself in your bedroom which must have happened right after I left because you had been crying for some time. I made it through the night, we waited until he left in the morning for work, called your uncle K and he came and packed us up. We left, never looking back. Your dad would call telling me he changed begging me to come back, he stole my car your grandpa bought for us, he would drive by all the time but I couldn’t go back.’ This is the story in a nutshell.
Over my 29 years of life I have heard so many stories about him. Two years ago I passed him in the corridor at a local gas station in our hometown – I didn’t know him he was merely a stranger in passing, he may or may not have recognized me. How do I know this? …. My aunt, my mom’s younger sister was behind me. She would never forget his face.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Attitude Is Evertything
Attitude: A small word that can make a big difference
The two things that I can control in life, my attitude and my actions
These phrases have been running through my head since I finished with my Al-anon meeting tonight. Sometimes I just need a meeting to remind me not to get lost in the bad parts of life and instead to enjoy the good parts.
So far on this website my attitude has not been all that stellar. In a way, this website for me is a double edged sword. It helps me to heal by letting me get it all out there but it doesn't always portray my life in the most positive fashion.
So tonight I just wanted to take a few moments to focus on the positives that do exist in this life that I continue to choose every day. And that is the key really, I choose this life. No one makes me stay.
God, give me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference. I can change my life if I choose to. Thus far I have chosen to stay because I love my husband and for the most part I love the person he is becoming. Sometimes I just need to remind myself of that.
Tonight I went to the store to get milk and his prescription. I sent him a text on my way home that read kitchen pls. When I got home the dishwasher was running and the counters were clean. Simple as that. Ask and ye shall receive.
Since I had no resentment towards him when I got home we were able to sit down as a family and eat dinner together. A very nice dinner in which Munchkin ordered us all around. Daddy eat... mommy pizza, etc.
After dinner I headed off to my meeting. I was grateful at that moment that he was able to stay home with Munchkin because just 18 months ago he wouldn't have been able to.
After my meeting I was driving home and I saw a man pacing back and forth on the street. He kept looking at his cell phone. In the neighborhood I was driving through, I know what he was doing. But I'm grateful today because that is not DH. I don't have to worry about what street corner he is on trying to score his next fix. I know when I get home the dirty plate may still be on the table (it was) but he is sober and my son is bathed, read to and sound asleep.
A little while later I passed a little league football game and I started thinking that in a few years that might be us and I am grateful that DH is going to be clean and going to be able to be a part of Muchkin's life in a way that a lot of addicts don't get the opportunity to be.
So many things to be grateful for, so much of a different outlook when you just change your attitude and your perception of the situation.
So, I guess what I'm saying is while I may write about some really heavy and depressing things here I need to remember to also focus on what is getting better and what is going well lest you all want to crawl into your computer screens and beat me with your old shoe!!
:-)
The two things that I can control in life, my attitude and my actions
These phrases have been running through my head since I finished with my Al-anon meeting tonight. Sometimes I just need a meeting to remind me not to get lost in the bad parts of life and instead to enjoy the good parts.
So far on this website my attitude has not been all that stellar. In a way, this website for me is a double edged sword. It helps me to heal by letting me get it all out there but it doesn't always portray my life in the most positive fashion.
So tonight I just wanted to take a few moments to focus on the positives that do exist in this life that I continue to choose every day. And that is the key really, I choose this life. No one makes me stay.
God, give me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference. I can change my life if I choose to. Thus far I have chosen to stay because I love my husband and for the most part I love the person he is becoming. Sometimes I just need to remind myself of that.
Tonight I went to the store to get milk and his prescription. I sent him a text on my way home that read kitchen pls. When I got home the dishwasher was running and the counters were clean. Simple as that. Ask and ye shall receive.
Since I had no resentment towards him when I got home we were able to sit down as a family and eat dinner together. A very nice dinner in which Munchkin ordered us all around. Daddy eat... mommy pizza, etc.
After dinner I headed off to my meeting. I was grateful at that moment that he was able to stay home with Munchkin because just 18 months ago he wouldn't have been able to.
After my meeting I was driving home and I saw a man pacing back and forth on the street. He kept looking at his cell phone. In the neighborhood I was driving through, I know what he was doing. But I'm grateful today because that is not DH. I don't have to worry about what street corner he is on trying to score his next fix. I know when I get home the dirty plate may still be on the table (it was) but he is sober and my son is bathed, read to and sound asleep.
A little while later I passed a little league football game and I started thinking that in a few years that might be us and I am grateful that DH is going to be clean and going to be able to be a part of Muchkin's life in a way that a lot of addicts don't get the opportunity to be.
So many things to be grateful for, so much of a different outlook when you just change your attitude and your perception of the situation.
So, I guess what I'm saying is while I may write about some really heavy and depressing things here I need to remember to also focus on what is getting better and what is going well lest you all want to crawl into your computer screens and beat me with your old shoe!!
:-)
Selfish
We teach others how to treat us. That is a phrase that has run over and over in my mind. Someone mentioned it in the comments and it really reminded me how stuck I feel. In Al-anon I have learned that I can change some situations simply by changing the way I react to them.
In a lot of areas of our life together this has helped. If I can ask him to load the dishwasher instead of doing it myself and then resenting him for it, I save the resentment and the dishwasher gets loaded. The problem is, who asks ME to do it? Why should I HAVE to ask him all the time?
This morning he says to me, I need to get my prescription refilled. I said to him, you are a big boy, call the number on the bottle and I will pick it up after work. He didn't call. He has left it, once again, up to me to do or our little family unit to suffer the consequences.
This is a theme I hear about quite often in AA and Al-anon circles. I looked for the topic in my Courage to Change book but couldn't find it but the fact is that alcoholics and addicts tend to be very selfish. When they are in the depths of their disease they only think about getting their next fix, about themselves and their needs.
The problem is, this is a learned behavior, and one that is hard to break. When FIL was in jail his only worry seemed to be about whether the neighbors would find out and it would ruin his "reputation." Never mind the mess he had created for his family. His concern was purely of a selfish nature.
For DH this seems to carry over into a lot of our lives. And I, am no less of a guilty party in this. I have let him "learn" how to treat me. Or, in a way how to treat himself. For so many years I accepted this unacceptable behavior and now I'm tired of it but I don't know what to do.
I've asked and asked and tried and tried but I don't seem to be getting answers that work for us. I tried the credit card thing and you see from the last post how well that went. I've tried letting him decide how much money he brings home from side jobs and how much he keeps. That SEEMS to be working well in the fact that now he tells me how much he gets and then gives me some. Not always how much I THINK he should give me, but it is a start.
However, my biggest problem is respect. How the hell do I get that? I don't want to be his mother but what is an acceptable "consequence?" I can't ground him when he throws a fit and calls me names but I also don't want him to think it is ok.
This morning he needed gas. He called me and demanded that I get him the bank card, again he shredded his credit card and I don't trust him to have full access to the bank account, and seemed genuinely pissed off when I didn't drop everything right then to get it to him.
After I dropped Munchkin off at daycare I told him to meet me at the gas station that I pass on my way to work which is a different way than he usually goes but NOT out of his way. He seemed pissed that I would even suggest that, instead he wanted me to go out of MY way for him.
Finally he pulls into daycare, I walk out and get into my car and he peels out onto the road. He knows I am TWO cars behind him yet he can't wait for me to get there. Instead he just starts pumping gas and tells me to go inside. Inside to wait with the 20 other people, thereby making me LATE to work.
This is unacceptable behavior, but what should I have done? I didn't want to give him the bank card since we only have one and I use it for everything I need where as he uses cash. So how do I give him a consequence for treating me like that without being his mother? Keep in mind he is now 36 hours off of medicine so the manic is already starting....
I just really feel stuck between continuing to play the roles that we have played and trying to move ourselves into different roles. I want so much some days to just run away and start over somewhere else with someone else. Would I let them treat me the same way or would I be stronger?
In a lot of areas of our life together this has helped. If I can ask him to load the dishwasher instead of doing it myself and then resenting him for it, I save the resentment and the dishwasher gets loaded. The problem is, who asks ME to do it? Why should I HAVE to ask him all the time?
This morning he says to me, I need to get my prescription refilled. I said to him, you are a big boy, call the number on the bottle and I will pick it up after work. He didn't call. He has left it, once again, up to me to do or our little family unit to suffer the consequences.
This is a theme I hear about quite often in AA and Al-anon circles. I looked for the topic in my Courage to Change book but couldn't find it but the fact is that alcoholics and addicts tend to be very selfish. When they are in the depths of their disease they only think about getting their next fix, about themselves and their needs.
The problem is, this is a learned behavior, and one that is hard to break. When FIL was in jail his only worry seemed to be about whether the neighbors would find out and it would ruin his "reputation." Never mind the mess he had created for his family. His concern was purely of a selfish nature.
For DH this seems to carry over into a lot of our lives. And I, am no less of a guilty party in this. I have let him "learn" how to treat me. Or, in a way how to treat himself. For so many years I accepted this unacceptable behavior and now I'm tired of it but I don't know what to do.
I've asked and asked and tried and tried but I don't seem to be getting answers that work for us. I tried the credit card thing and you see from the last post how well that went. I've tried letting him decide how much money he brings home from side jobs and how much he keeps. That SEEMS to be working well in the fact that now he tells me how much he gets and then gives me some. Not always how much I THINK he should give me, but it is a start.
However, my biggest problem is respect. How the hell do I get that? I don't want to be his mother but what is an acceptable "consequence?" I can't ground him when he throws a fit and calls me names but I also don't want him to think it is ok.
This morning he needed gas. He called me and demanded that I get him the bank card, again he shredded his credit card and I don't trust him to have full access to the bank account, and seemed genuinely pissed off when I didn't drop everything right then to get it to him.
After I dropped Munchkin off at daycare I told him to meet me at the gas station that I pass on my way to work which is a different way than he usually goes but NOT out of his way. He seemed pissed that I would even suggest that, instead he wanted me to go out of MY way for him.
Finally he pulls into daycare, I walk out and get into my car and he peels out onto the road. He knows I am TWO cars behind him yet he can't wait for me to get there. Instead he just starts pumping gas and tells me to go inside. Inside to wait with the 20 other people, thereby making me LATE to work.
This is unacceptable behavior, but what should I have done? I didn't want to give him the bank card since we only have one and I use it for everything I need where as he uses cash. So how do I give him a consequence for treating me like that without being his mother? Keep in mind he is now 36 hours off of medicine so the manic is already starting....
I just really feel stuck between continuing to play the roles that we have played and trying to move ourselves into different roles. I want so much some days to just run away and start over somewhere else with someone else. Would I let them treat me the same way or would I be stronger?
Monday, September 29, 2008
Maturity
I'm having a really rough time right now dealing with DH's maturity level. Or rather lack of a maturity level. They tell you that when someone starts using they stop maturing. For DH this was somewhere between 13 and 16 years of age.
When I was told this I just nodded my head. After all, he had to be better off of drugs than on drugs, the rest we could deal with right? Seriously, this is MUCH harder than I anticipated. Some days it is like I have two kids instead of one.
Let me explain. DH has to take medicine. He has a "chemical imbalance" that may or may not have been present before the drug use but is certainly present now. If he doesn't take it regularly he is prone to mood swings. Sometimes violent screaming, throwing things mood swings. It is AWFUL!!
I have to remind DH on a daily basis to take his medicine to avoid this happening. I do not get to slack off and worry about myself because if I do we have weeks like two weeks ago where we get in HUGE arguments because he becomes irrational and "manic." I HATE having to be his mother. Last night he told me he had taken his last two pills.
I will have to call the pharmacy, I will have to go pick up the prescription. This is his last refill, his doctor left the practice. I will have to find him a new doctor, make an appointment, and remind him to go. If I don't, it is not just him that suffers the consequences, it is our whole little family unit.
And it is not just medicine... it is his whole life...
He had a credit card. He misused it terribly, but so did I when I was first getting used to having them so I excused it. It had a very low limit and I figured we would work through it and he would get it. It was nice, he could stop and pick up things at the store, grab food on the way home, etc.
About three months ago he didn't take his medicine and I didn't remind him. He had an "episode" A screaming, yelling, I want a divorce episode in which he ripped up the credit card and threw it all over our lawn.
I haven't replace it yet so I am back to being the only one who can stop at the store, pick up his medicine, pickup food, etc. It sucks. I pick up Munchkin from daycare, it would be SOOO much easier for him to stop and get milk than for me to stop, with the munchkin in tow and get it. Yet, I have to stop.
Aside from learning to live as an adult I also have to contend with the "social issues." I don't know how best to describe it to you except to come right out and say it. DH has the social grace of a 13 - 16 year old. And not just at home, in public too. And sometimes it is damn embarrassing to me. He will do or say something that I think is EXTREMELY immature and it makes me embarrassed and I react with anger.
This doesn't usually go well. A friend of mine has pointed it out and I have been trying really hard not to embarrass him in public but sometimes it is really hard. He is also this way at home. For awhile I thought some of his actions were cute, now they are wearing on me.
This morning he yelled at me because I let my alarm go off twice and then I got up, went down stairs and he came downstairs and apologized and then asked if he could get in the shower with me. Seriously? To me this just shows a lot of immaturity in social situations. Like he doesn't know that is not how you treat other people, etc.
It's hard for me to explain, but it is tiring, and wearing on me and just writing it here makes me feel 100% better about it, even if none of you fully understand....
When I was told this I just nodded my head. After all, he had to be better off of drugs than on drugs, the rest we could deal with right? Seriously, this is MUCH harder than I anticipated. Some days it is like I have two kids instead of one.
Let me explain. DH has to take medicine. He has a "chemical imbalance" that may or may not have been present before the drug use but is certainly present now. If he doesn't take it regularly he is prone to mood swings. Sometimes violent screaming, throwing things mood swings. It is AWFUL!!
I have to remind DH on a daily basis to take his medicine to avoid this happening. I do not get to slack off and worry about myself because if I do we have weeks like two weeks ago where we get in HUGE arguments because he becomes irrational and "manic." I HATE having to be his mother. Last night he told me he had taken his last two pills.
I will have to call the pharmacy, I will have to go pick up the prescription. This is his last refill, his doctor left the practice. I will have to find him a new doctor, make an appointment, and remind him to go. If I don't, it is not just him that suffers the consequences, it is our whole little family unit.
And it is not just medicine... it is his whole life...
He had a credit card. He misused it terribly, but so did I when I was first getting used to having them so I excused it. It had a very low limit and I figured we would work through it and he would get it. It was nice, he could stop and pick up things at the store, grab food on the way home, etc.
About three months ago he didn't take his medicine and I didn't remind him. He had an "episode" A screaming, yelling, I want a divorce episode in which he ripped up the credit card and threw it all over our lawn.
I haven't replace it yet so I am back to being the only one who can stop at the store, pick up his medicine, pickup food, etc. It sucks. I pick up Munchkin from daycare, it would be SOOO much easier for him to stop and get milk than for me to stop, with the munchkin in tow and get it. Yet, I have to stop.
Aside from learning to live as an adult I also have to contend with the "social issues." I don't know how best to describe it to you except to come right out and say it. DH has the social grace of a 13 - 16 year old. And not just at home, in public too. And sometimes it is damn embarrassing to me. He will do or say something that I think is EXTREMELY immature and it makes me embarrassed and I react with anger.
This doesn't usually go well. A friend of mine has pointed it out and I have been trying really hard not to embarrass him in public but sometimes it is really hard. He is also this way at home. For awhile I thought some of his actions were cute, now they are wearing on me.
This morning he yelled at me because I let my alarm go off twice and then I got up, went down stairs and he came downstairs and apologized and then asked if he could get in the shower with me. Seriously? To me this just shows a lot of immaturity in social situations. Like he doesn't know that is not how you treat other people, etc.
It's hard for me to explain, but it is tiring, and wearing on me and just writing it here makes me feel 100% better about it, even if none of you fully understand....
Friday, September 26, 2008
Lies
I'm deep breathing right now. I HATE lies and it seems like that is all DH's family is made up of, one lie after another.
On Sunday DH's dad got arrested. We are not allowed to tell anyone. WHY?? What is with all the secrecy?? It is PUBLIC record. All you have to do is go to the courts online website and you can see everything that he was charged with as well as all of the motions that have been filed, etc.
Yet FIL hasn't even told his family that live a few towns away. When he found out that SIL (DH's sister) told her in-laws he was really upset. They live in the town with his family and if they know than EVERYONE might know.
Then last night I get home and I find out that DH talked to his dad on the phone and his dad admitted that the pot that they found on him when he was arrested was his. Despite the fact that EVERY time we talked to his new wife she adamantly told us that it was NOT his. So DH asked FIL, What does Step-MIL think of all of this?
His answer, oh it is what it is. Which basically means, I didn't tell her, don't say anything. MORE LIES!! That is one of the things that infuriates me the most about this disease. The lying. DH does it all the time, over simple stupid things.
Did you feed the horses?
Of course I did.
Are you sure because I'm going right by there on my way to my meeting I can do it.
No, I did it.
So I stop, and lo and behold, no, in fact he did NOT feed the horses.
When I question him... he thought I would be angry that he forgot so he lied to me. It is things like that that just tear me up. They make me want to pack up my son and run for the hills and never look back. Take him somewhere where he knows that there is a better way to live his life.
But I can't run. This is our life, for better or worse, DH is Munchkin's father and I can't run from that. So we try to work through it. He talks to his sponsor, I talk to mine and we hope that tomorrow is a better day.
One day at a time. One lie free day at a time....
On Sunday DH's dad got arrested. We are not allowed to tell anyone. WHY?? What is with all the secrecy?? It is PUBLIC record. All you have to do is go to the courts online website and you can see everything that he was charged with as well as all of the motions that have been filed, etc.
Yet FIL hasn't even told his family that live a few towns away. When he found out that SIL (DH's sister) told her in-laws he was really upset. They live in the town with his family and if they know than EVERYONE might know.
Then last night I get home and I find out that DH talked to his dad on the phone and his dad admitted that the pot that they found on him when he was arrested was his. Despite the fact that EVERY time we talked to his new wife she adamantly told us that it was NOT his. So DH asked FIL, What does Step-MIL think of all of this?
His answer, oh it is what it is. Which basically means, I didn't tell her, don't say anything. MORE LIES!! That is one of the things that infuriates me the most about this disease. The lying. DH does it all the time, over simple stupid things.
Did you feed the horses?
Of course I did.
Are you sure because I'm going right by there on my way to my meeting I can do it.
No, I did it.
So I stop, and lo and behold, no, in fact he did NOT feed the horses.
When I question him... he thought I would be angry that he forgot so he lied to me. It is things like that that just tear me up. They make me want to pack up my son and run for the hills and never look back. Take him somewhere where he knows that there is a better way to live his life.
But I can't run. This is our life, for better or worse, DH is Munchkin's father and I can't run from that. So we try to work through it. He talks to his sponsor, I talk to mine and we hope that tomorrow is a better day.
One day at a time. One lie free day at a time....
Blog Format
I'm going to be doing a lot of jumping around on this blog and I don't want you to get confused so I want to explain things a bit. When I write an entry from the past I'm going to put it back there. Someday if I print all this stuff out then it will be in order. However, I will put a post here with a link to there. Ya follow me yet?? :-)
Anyhow, I think you'll catch on eventually.....
Anyhow, I think you'll catch on eventually.....
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Introduction
I think at the beginning of any blog it is necessary to have an obligatory introductory post. So here it is. Here I am, I guess.
12 years ago I met my husband, here after referred to as DH. He was 15 and I was 16 and I'm not sure in those 12 years we have ever gone more than one week without speaking to each other. Somewhere along the way I learned that he did some "recreational" drugs and a lot of "recreational drinking/partying."
In hindsight that should have been my clue to run... run far, far away. But I didn't. Something in my urged me to stay, to try to fix things, that somewhere deep down inside he was a good person.
This website is my attempt to find out why it is I had that compulsion to stay. And also my safe place to come and write about the events in my life that lead up to where we are now and the things that are still happening with us.
When he was using I thought if he just got clean our life would be perfect. I was wrong, more wrong than I ever knew I could be. It doesn't get perfect, it just gets different. Now I go to Al-anon and I work with my sponsor to try to understand things.
I've always used writing as my tool to help me process my life and I'm hoping that this blog will be my outlet. My way to write about everything that happened in my past and is still happening in my future, process it, and hopefully let it go.
Want to join me on this journey?
12 years ago I met my husband, here after referred to as DH. He was 15 and I was 16 and I'm not sure in those 12 years we have ever gone more than one week without speaking to each other. Somewhere along the way I learned that he did some "recreational" drugs and a lot of "recreational drinking/partying."
In hindsight that should have been my clue to run... run far, far away. But I didn't. Something in my urged me to stay, to try to fix things, that somewhere deep down inside he was a good person.
This website is my attempt to find out why it is I had that compulsion to stay. And also my safe place to come and write about the events in my life that lead up to where we are now and the things that are still happening with us.
When he was using I thought if he just got clean our life would be perfect. I was wrong, more wrong than I ever knew I could be. It doesn't get perfect, it just gets different. Now I go to Al-anon and I work with my sponsor to try to understand things.
I've always used writing as my tool to help me process my life and I'm hoping that this blog will be my outlet. My way to write about everything that happened in my past and is still happening in my future, process it, and hopefully let it go.
Want to join me on this journey?
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