August 15, 2013

My fingers hover over my keyboard as I try to pinpoint what I need to write about. Writing is something that frees me, but it doesn’t always naturally come out. It takes some searching and thinking to get to a point where I know what thread to follow.

A few days ago, my partner and I broke up. Or rather, I broke up with him. The lie had gone too far, the extent of the illusion was too great for my love to peer through. If I hadn’t put a stop to it, it would have put a stop to my very heartbeat. But I am left with a huge hole inside, a gaping wound that hasn’t started bleeding yet.
It’s like when you burn yourself. You pull away before the pain arrives. But you know it’s coming, and that nothing will prevent that. You try to get ready for it, but you never are.

Back in October, I broke up with him the first time. What still feels to me as forcefully, he got me to talk to him again, and twisted himself back into place. By my side. Instead of accepting his wrongs and letting me go through whatever steps necessary, he took what he thought was his rightful spot. Instead of honestly respecting my stance on our relationship, he dug up whatever feelings remained and used them against me. Not for my own good, not to make me happy, but for his own gain. And after that, he had me right where he wanted me. Where he could lie to me again, make himself look good, flatter his shattered ego with my naive adoration.

Now, that is over. I can forgive, and I can move on, but trust is a very slow thing to recover. It’s a fragile thing that has a mind of its own. Likely that is an important lesson for me; I’m too gullible, I cave too easily and I sometimes want things so badly that I actually forgo what my rational mind tells me. My emotions overrule my knowledge, and I shouldn’t let that happen.

The anger has subsided now, and it feels really nice. It’s the first time I’ve been able to relax in weeks. Today, all I have done is watch movies, and sleep. Sleep, sleep, more sleep. I had never realized how tired I was, until I was away from him, from the whole situation, and could start distancing myself from the whole mess that was our relationship. What a mess it was. A disgusting mix of his lies, my anger, his mistakes, my spite and horrific misunderstanding. When the basis of truth falls away, the whole couple becomes a farce. All the energy that should go into loving each other better, goes into saving the crumbling ruins of a dream.
I’ll have to be at home to fully grasp what it is I have lost, and what I have gained. My freedom, carelessness and integrity are gained, but the loss is still unclear. It’s difficult to see what he gave me, when what he took was so vast and fresh. Right now I still mostly feel robbed of some innocent part of me. But maybe that part really did need to be gone.

We’ll see how I feel tomorrow.



August 3, 2013

I’m going to write this post because I think some of these thoughts could be helpful to others. My boyfriend doesn’t like it when I write on here without talking to him, because he wants us to communicate directly. Which is surprisingly demanding on his part. Writing here is often the only way I can let my emotions float freely. I should probably create a blog somewhere else, where he can’t read it.

I am just. So. Angry. At everything. At life. At things going the way they’re going. At him, for asking me if I’m “getting some good rest”, what do you think you fucking moron. At myself for not being stronger or better adapted to the situation. At him, at him, at him. He’s usually my source of comfort, but right now my voice is actually suffocated by anger. I can barely breathe anymore from all this fucking disappointment, anger and sadness that I’ve been swallowing, munching and forgiving.
It’s like a disgusting worm of pent up shit that is wriggling its way back up my throat, digging a hole in my chest.

I’m so angry that I’ve bent over backwards to be dependable, reliable and responsible, to always make sure paperwork, tickets, flights were well taken care of, to prepare things for when he would be here. And I never got that in return, never. I’m angry that I’ve read countless blogs, books and websites, committed to learning about alcoholism and how to be the best partner for him. I’m angry that even now, I’m angry at myself for being obviously codependent and therefore the only real culprit for my feeling this way. I’m angry that I’ve felt completely alone in all this.


He’s the alcoholic on his throne, anyone who can’t deal with that, is just codependent. Nobody can ask or expect him to never drink again, he’s the poor alcoholic, isn’t he? You can’t wait for that promise, you silly goose. He will drink again, and you should be prepared for that, as a good wife! And you will be supportive, and calm, and you will forgive him, because he’s a drunk and he can’t be held accountable for this! You can’t stress out about material shit, and you can’t lay too much on him, because it will stress him out! You must be FLAWLESS! Prepared to give him space when he needs it, but be close when he needs comfort! You must be patient, not expect his sobriety IN THE LEAST and BE INDEPENDENTLY HAPPY. When he’s passed out drunk in a dark alley, at any mugger’s mercy, you should NOT CALL 911. That’s your cue to take a nice hot bath and have a careless, 10 hour sleep!
His only priority is to go to AA and work on his sobriety, you as a wife are just a CRUTCH -especially your cooking skills. You should be prepared to raise children on your own, and to let him be the FUN PARENT who plays dangerous games with them while you’re not looking!
He will lie to you regularly, but you will STILL trust him inherently! Your own honesty will not be rewarded or acknowledged, it will be taken for granted every single day. In fact, everything will revolve around his AMAZING accomplishment of not having drunk for 24 hours, and EVERYTHING YOU DO will PALE IN COMPARISON NO MATTER WHAT. Besides the exhausting life of the alcoholic’s partner, which entails emotional sensors, x-ray fucking vision into his thoughts and chameleon-like abilities to adapt to his waves, you will also have a JOB AND CAREER because he won’t always be able to work or keep a job. You will NEVER FAIL to work your job consistently, but he will flutter from job to job, occasionally fucking up lifetime opportunities. SUCH IS LIFE.
Don’t expect empathy for your role in the relationship from him, either. Never forget that HE IS THE VICTIM OF THE DISEASE. When you get angry, he will counter it with excellent quotations from the big book and you will have to admit YOUR OWN WRONGS. It sucks! But for the marriage to work, YOU will have to do all the work. Many nights you will feel alone, hurt and tired, but none of it will matter if HE is having an amazing day! He will fucking mesmerize you with convoluted mindgames until you’re involved in some kind of fun activity he came up with! It’s GREAT!
Whenever you do something UNEXPECTED as a reaction to his drinking, he will suck up ALL YOUR SPACE and DEMAND that you reaffirm your love for him. But, never forget, YOU are NOT allowed to take his drinking personally. YOU are just the crutch, and you should just KNOW your place even if he gives you no reassurance.

This is your life now. You are that woman.


July 31, 2013

I had the weirdest dream. One of my primary school teachers was a creepy killer with unhealthy obsessions, and I was one of his. He’d follow me around, but since we live in the same village that didn’t strike me. He was about to act, in my dream, when suddenly I “saw” it.
Just in case that was a premonition, I’m writing it down.

My hair is a little better, but not good enough for a wedding. I don’t know what to do.

My man’s finally going home, that’s good. I still don’t know what time the wedding will be. Apparently neither does he. Isn’t that just damn great?

Tonight a bunch of friends and I are all having dinner for my best friend’s birthday. My boyfriend was actually supposed to bring me her gift, so I’ll have to buy her something else now since he couldn’t make it. I have no idea what to get her!! Stressing out about it.

I’m also running out of money, and don’t know when I’ll get to work next. This limbo life is getting tiresome.


July 30, 2013

Day 2.

I’m not good at this. This was supposed to be a few days to myself, but I’ve been worried out of my mind. Thoroughly defeats the purpose, doesn’t it? Still haven’t had news, I don’t know where he is. Sometimes I have confusing dreams that he died, but I can’t let myself go there.

Why am I doing this? Why am I being so ridiculous?

Maybe he just needed the time off to rehash his relapse, to trace back his steps and identify where it went wrong. Maybe he’s having an amazing time with those kids from AA, and decided to hang around for a bit. Maybe he’s at home, just trying to find some quiet. Maybe he’s with family, talking, healing.

Back in October it was a similar situation as this one that made me decide to take a break. He really thought it was over back then (so did I) and was absolutely crushed. I needed time and some space, but couldn’t get much. I did get some, but he did always try to take some of it, because he was probably losing his mind out of grief.
But this is different. I did ask for ‘a few days’ for myself, but I never thought of leaving him. I pondered whether or not it would be easier with someone else, I negotiated if someone else wouldn’t be more constant. But someone else would just be fucking boring, wouldn’t it? I don’t like constant, never have. I get bored and lose interest.

I’m starving.


July 30, 2013

Today I ate a watery soup, and two 45 gr bags of chips…Grand total: 500 calories. Wtf.

I had lunch with my sister, and I could really confide in her today. Beforehand I knew I had to tell her what happened, and that I couldn’t lie and make my relationship seem like a fairytale. It’s not. She actually understood, a lot more than I had thought she would. Not at any moment did she judge me, or my sweet man. She did tell me that I have to tell my parents the truth, because right now they’re speculating away, and it’s actually worse. And she’s right. As soon as it’s a quiet time together, I will.

Next thing I knew, I got a call from my boss to work from 6 til close. I was happy to get some more hours in, and it seemed like the perfect way to take my mind off things.

I had underestimated how tired I’ve been. The first hour I was alright, the place wasn’t very busy and I could just serve people without too much straining myself. But after a few hours I started having really bad lower back pain. I was shaking all over, tense, just completely overwhelmed. I thank all the gods that I didn’t break down and cry.
I felt so, so sad. A new kind of sadness, not the acute, pang of pain kind of sad. A slumbering, dull sadness that seemed to have always been there.

Suddenly an old friend walked in. He’s actually a guy I had a thing for a few years ago, and as much as he did have a thing for me, things never really happened. I wasn’t incredibly and totally fucking in love with the dude, either, it just kind of died. But for some reason I always had been spiteful towards him, I’m not totally sure why. I was still badly on drugs in those days, like 5-day-bender-on-drugs, and I’m sure that played its dirty part in all of it.
Anyway, I found the opportunity to apologize to him for it, and I had actually thought about him during a bikeride just a few days back. Thinking I should at least say the words. As soon as I had said them, he was all “oh please, that’s in the past”. I didn’t let him shove it aside though, I stressed that it was important to be said out loud.
I’m not sure if he was uncomfortable, or incredibly touched by it. I’m hoping the latter.

We ended up having a blast behind the bar, a young drummer I know started putting on song after song of absolutele jazz bliss, we were all dancing around the bar like crazy people. It felt really nice letting go of everything and just soaring on the tones of the trumpets.
I pondered getting totally and utterly blacked-out drunk just before we closed, but opted not to. That meant no alcohol, because in a state like this, it’s never just one drink.

But by closing time, I was done. I just wanted my bed. My tv. My room. My cat. My space.

I hope I don’t have to work tomorrow, I’m wonderfully enjoying just laying in bed watching documentaries and finding my center.

Haven’t heard from him for a day.


July 29, 2013

My last few posts were spiteful, angry and hurt. It needed to happen.

But he’s hurting too. He’s suffering the same repercussions as I am; he doesn’t get to see me for another 9 days. I have to trust that this tears him apart as much as me, and that the illness is kicking him in the balls as much as me. It is so easy to forget, isn’t it? Because it feels like a choice, to an outsider. It feels like taking a drink is a choice, whereas a cancer spreading out isn’t an action you took.

But that’s wrong. It wasn’t a choice. It was a circumstance, it was alcoholism.

When I think back to my own use, and how for the last year or so, I attempted to quit, I can vaguely remember feeling sucked in. First of all, it was a habit. I’d go out, buy some stuff if I was out, possibly share it with one or two friends (it would feel like we had more when we put everything together), and get high. The only time I could successfully quit, was when I stopped going out. Which I could keep up for maybe 3 weeks. Having to quit drugs is one thing, having to quit your social life is another.

It never occurred to me that I was hurting anyone. I wasn’t in a relationship, I wasn’t losing all my money. But maybe I did hurt my parents. They never told me. When I came home and thought they never knew a fucking thing, maybe they were just big about it. At one point I remember telling my mom in the car, “mom, I’m using amphetamines and cocaine, I’m not sure how to stop”. She never gave me a hard time for it. She never gave me a cross hearing. She never called anyone behind my back, trying to get me into some kind of rehab. She trusted me, but she must’ve been so hurt.

And I really was hurt too. I didn’t want to be that daughter anymore, the one who kept fucking up. But I was. I straightened it out later, by getting my degree and everything. That’s what they wanted for me, some form of security.

I quit suddenly. Cold turkey. And I always do that. Cutting, purging, everything. Suddenly I decide that no, I won’t do it anymore, and I just. I quit. For the purging, my lovely partner did have a huge hand in it. He was incredibly supportive for it.

Before getting at that point, I did need several attempts. The purging sometimes stopped for a whole year, but it would return. Something has changed now though. Now I know that I’ll never go back.
And it worries me that he’s not at that point. Not yet. He still seeks comfort in his booze, where I have now realized my addictions/dysfunctional habits are not comforting. I don’t understand why he doesn’t see it that way too, and we can’t really talk about it because he hates these conversations. They aren’t fun to have, I’ll admit.

I’m still waiting for him to make that ‘click’ I did. And maybe that’s wrong. Maybe he will never. He keeps trying, and that’s incredibly brave on his part. It must be so, so painful for him to go through that over and over. Being disgusted with yourself, because You Did It Again.

I will never give up on him. Never. I hope he won’t give up on me; I am trying baby.


July 29, 2013

Day 1 of keeping my distance. Last night I sent him a very gentle e-mail, explaining how it’s probably important that I take a step back and take care of myself now for a few days. Unfortunately, he probably took it like he was supposed to do the same. In fact, I have no idea where he is, or what he’s doing. Last I heard he was at the airport, met some kids at an AA meeting nearby and was going to watch a movie with them.

We’ve had the “please keep me posted”-conversation so many times, I’m giving up on it. This is something I need to get ready for, and learn how to handle. He won’t keep me posted. I won’t know where he is and I will have to go to sleep alone. That’s how he is, how he’s always been. Nobody was ever interested where he was before, this is not something he’s ever had to learn.

Or maybe that’s not entirely true. His sister has been messaging me continuously asking for news. His roommate did the same. His dad was probably kept posted through his sister mostly, but I know they’ve all been messaging my boyfriend directly as well. He barely replied, he barely acknowledged their worry (which is code for their love).
People have always wanted news from him. As a teenager, falling off the face of the earth was probably his comfort zone, because they wanted news. A way to escape the shame, the guilt, his responsibilities. As crappily as family can respond sometimes (“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS” etc), as an adult you still have to own up to what you did.

When he disappeared in the past, their worry would double. Where could he be, what was he up to? Coming home everyone would be so relieved he was okay, the repercussions of his childish behavior wouldn’t seem so big.
Today he probably takes their worry largely as an insult. He’s almost 30, he doesn’t need anyone to worry or look out for him. The more people worry and fire “where are you?” messages at him, the more he regresses in that strange disconnected zone, where he will take the space he’s got and kick everyone else out of it. This is the point where he turns off his cell phone, disappears and enjoys the anonymity of a new town. There’s another 10 days before I arrive there, and he will use those days to vanish.

He’s always done tiny roadtrips when he was younger, escaping. Nobody knew him there, he could just be an innocent visitor, nobody would judge him. The bottom line being that he likes to avoid his past.

Soon we are to be married. He could use this time to go back home and make some additional preparations. Prepare the house, look for nice places for us to go. But he won’t. I’m going to arrive and I don’t even know if anyone will be there to pick me up. Luckily I know there’s Greyhound buses from the airport to where he- “we” live, so I can always go that route.

I know I will be fine. And that’s all I need to be concerned with. If he’s not, that’s his problem. Not mine. Not anymore. I won’t lie for him, or cover for him. I will inform people of what he does, to my knowledge, and fuck ‘being in each others corner’. He’s not even in mine. For the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe.