Lovin' an Addict

Written from the other side of addiction. 
By one who walks the journey of recovery and loves an addict. All comments welcome.

Chapter One - An Ordinary Day

it was just an ordinary work day - weekly staff meeting at home, coffee brewing while papers are printing, and display materials put up. i dragged myself through each moment, hoping for the strength to pull it off without anyone noticing i had been up all night with the addict who haunted my room, hallways and stalking all our medicine cabinets for something to help him sleep. try as i could the sliver of space on the king size bed couldn't hide me or contain my fear, dismay and rage that i had actually landed into this relationship with yet another addict. one who fooled me with his twisted dual life.

the charming man of love and pampering by day and fire-breathing dragon monster when his supply of "stuff" he thought to hide so well was out. i carefully applied make-up to my darkened, red eyed face again hoping no one would notice. yet my hands wobbled and even the red-out eye drops couldn't whiten the eyes that cried with no tears. ladies showed up early ringing the door - making my back arch for fear HE would wake and breath his flames all over me for doing these meeting in the home he never really wanted, for the job he hates me to have. how can i go on living his lie? all night i prayed. that God would take him from me or give me the strength to leave. i can't live with his lies because it make me to be the liar making excuses all the time for unpaid bills, reasons why he is still in bed at nearly noon, and all the other wonderful stories i make up so he won't look bad, and I can just maintain my sanity."

make-up on, I walked to the darkened room to find him slumbering with barking snores. with one bleary eye open he told me i should wear something different. i went to the closet closing the door to find something to wear. nothing seemed suitable to cover my empty heart and tired frame. frantically i searched through my patch worked wardrobe seeing the immediate reflection of my state of mind: these clothes don't match me! i bought stuff that doesn't work and had melt down right on the spot. tears breaking through my stoic grimace, spoiling the carefully painted eyes i grabbed a dress that felt soft and easy to wear. black with a delicate white print - beautiful illustrated ladies in high fashion. certainly not who i am or what i felt like.

"so during the meeting time of this ordinary day, i sat wondering where the words would come to "lead", encourage and motivate them into success. one by one they spilled their own woes: daughter in trouble have to rescue her. not making enough money to pay bills - why isn't this working?, my home life is a mess with an autistic child and boyfriend who won't work... one poor soul dissolved into a pool of tears trying to explain she's leaving an abusive husband. another kept chirping her negativities about most everything while i wondered how to pull all this together when i myself struggled. 

then out of the corner of my eye, i notice him standing at the doorway peering over all my ladies with this wild tiger like look in his eye. not only his appearance but the air went suddenly cold, if not icy. I glanced his way letting him know i'd see him later...

Chapter Two - From Ordinary to Scary

he came in and out of the kitchen. just standing there. pacing, racing and wild in his eyes. this time i needed to find out what the tiger at the door was prowling around for. fortunately several of the ladies had to leave early. normally these meetings went well over the noon quitting time and getting them all out the door not an easy task, today they just wanted to linger. my heart was in my shoes and a withered spirit certainly described my countenance as i considered what was in store for me when he spoke. my last lady talked and talked as she picked up her stuff never once noticing i was numbed, stunned and about to fade. closing the door i went into the room to see the man. there he sat... face caved into fear, trembling and crying out "i am sorry. i just messed up everything and i don't know what to do.... " seems it was the tiger he had by the tail all these years must have just turned on him at last...

Chapter Three: She Sees RED

If one could peer into my thoughts at that moment, perhaps it would be a giant, blood red question mark over my head. What in the world would cause such a meltdown? More than that - "what did you do that could be this bad? Why now especially when things were starting to go good for the first time in years?" oh, the years. All the years flying through my mind - the mess-ups, the cleanups, the wild, insane times passed before my eyes in an instant. I held his face and asked him what did you do? I sensed a broken, truly crunched soul sitting there. Through a weeping gag he said "I’ve ruined everything. everything is messed up.”

I asked, “for what, how so?” to which he replied “I copied a prescription and tried to turn it in to the pharmacy. The lady rejected it and told me she was calling the police and my doctor. I am sorry." as the sorry turned into an endless repetition from his lips; my eyebrow went up went up in total disbelief. 

"You did what? What were you thinking?" I uttered holding back the rage rising in cheeks. He sobbed out his story from the night before until now. disclosing his addiction. his obsession and surrender to a pharmaceutical. yes, he had quit the illegal substances. i thought he went straight. apparently not. my throat felt as if hands were squeezing it closed.

A conflux of emotion gathered in my head to the heart in my shoes. One was mercy, the other punishment and a million fleeting thoughts in between. Controlling my tongue lest it lash him to death, I listened. It was time for him to hit the wall and face consequences of his own doing. I can’t bail him out now. he finally got caught by someone other than me. this is the wall I’ve prayed for. The consequence of his morning need for Vicadin became a flowing confession. that he takes over 480 pills or more each month and has so for a long time. Funny. I sensed this was happening in my spirit, but totally denied it in my head. I saw bottles, suspected he was using with certain behaviors and his need to sleep so much, but since he quit all the illegal substances it was good enough for me. i believed in him. 

The sneaking suspicion that he was sneaking around for drugs was truth! Enabling as i am, i denied my own intuitive knowledge over his charming ways. losers,both of us.

Chapter Four - Into the Light, the Tiger gets tamed

all sneaks eventually get caught. everything hidden comes to light some way or another. for other criminals busted is justice. but for the man i have lived with so many years, it’s complicated. this time it's serious-with long term consequences that not only hurt him, but me. at this point job loss, career crashed and even his illegal sobriety hung in the balance. this episode is enough for him to lose everything he has done for good in his life now that he was off the illegal stuff. he was in fact due to leave for training in two weeks which if this blew up with police, etc. puts him off the map in his future. i wanted to scream and yell at him, instead i simply held him as he broke in pieces. we prayed, asking God to help us through this maelstrom of events. he also concluded that he needed rehab and right away. first time those words crossed his lips.

thinking to salvage it all, we started to make calls. the first call to the pharmacy with whom i spoke to the lady who had busted him, who rudely stated he broke the law with that prescription and informed the police then to the Dr.'s office. i hung up shaking. unbelievable how my ordinary day took such a turn.

he spoke with the director of the clinic who explained the process of what happens when a patient breaks confidence with their Dr. it is indeed a broken relationship. he told them about his crisis, addiction and apologized including the fact he was pursuing rehab. apparently the police were never contacted. The director actually said no charges were to be pressed in light of this conversation and his tell about rehab. He even recommended a new physician specializing in detox and addictions. he called that number in great haste.

i began the calls to my insurance company. i was impressed their care and methodical steps of what to do next. they spoke with him for over an hour and at least 3 more times during the next few hours. the recommendation was to go immediately to the emergency room. that we did. hours dripped by slowly. the pacing tiger barely made it through the waiting room environment. too many strangers all around.he was in full withdrawal there weren't enough cigarettes to keep his calm. 

i feared a total flip out if they didn't see him soon. we could only wait, talk and yes, even cried. everytime he looked at me it showed a face of sorrow, shame and guilt. it also hid the tiger that consumed him all his life. the captured tiger of addiction, now awaits domestication. 

perhaps food would help. i left to get food, more like a breath and time to think. while calm on the outside, inwardly perplexed, with my own natural ability to numb down pain.  i left him in the hands of mother who was now privy to our most private secret. she loves him as a son, with a strength that has seen similar days and crisis moments. she knows what it’s like to live a lifetime with an addict. here i stood in her shoes as a daughter of and alcoholic father. interesting the cycles of life, the passing of generational sins.

Chapter Five - The Tiger Finds Forgiveness

After flipping around the neighborhood in search of fast food, i finally found something edible, ordered mindlessly and navigated my way back to the maze of hospital parking lots. upon returning i noticed he was gone. mom sits there quietly reading. Damn. i missed the walk to freedom. i missed making sure he was truly going for help. 

The nurse at the front desk explained he was being treated and would be ready for me in about ½ hour. counting the ticks on the clock gave pause as time tim. finally allowed into the maze of doors and hallways kept as cold as a morgue would be i supposed. There he was. Not the first time I had seen him in the ER.

Counting the ticks on the clock caused unrelenting time to sludge by. a nurse called my name. Finally I followed her into the maze of doors and hallways. It felt a total opposite to the 109 degrees we walked in from outside. Icy cold, nearly frigid temperature. Disinfectant odors, paper shuffling and people in gowns all busy making people well, caught my eye, ears and nose. nothing like a hospital to show the reality of life and death.

There he was. Not the first time I had seen him in the ER. He smiled as I numbly greeted him with a kiss and sat in the room of ice. The room was cold in all ways. We talked transparently for the first time in ages. All the junk spilled into confessions on both sides. more tears, fears and anger in disguise. here he is wanting help and actually getting it. why can’t i feel anything? flashes from years of pain, anguish and questions collided with forgiveness and fresh starts. it’s so cold. he asks the nurse to get me blankets. i hope my mom is all right in the lobby. when is someone going to talk to us. hours pass. nurses come and go. a man about the same age enters. he’s kind, approachable and explains what happened. i wondered if the tiger told all the truth. did he gloss it all over? 

the tiger was calm. smiling as the Dr. told us this is very common these days to be addicted to painkillers. it is one of the hottest entry into addiction today in fact. great. medical contributions to the fallen nature of mankind that is both legal and lethal. 

he suggested a drug treatment that takes place in a doctors office to get people off this stuff. writing the referral he hands it to us as we prepare to leave. like Humpty Dumpty, all the kings horses and kings men put this man together again.

Gee... how the pharmaceutical companies thrive these days on both sides of the fence. make the drugs to hook innocent souls then create the cure at a HIGH price. it’s the game of pong. no one actually ever wins, except the maker of drugs. 

Our adventure took place at cpm on a monday and finished after midnight tueday. His jitters, twitches and anxiety were at an all time low. He seemed changed for the time being. of course under the influence. this time under a doctors savvy care.

Funny thing. I feel this overwhelming love again for the man with the tiger. Forgiveness comes easy like silky flowing waters. i find my way to the room inside my soul where resides the kingdom of God. my hiding place. where i meet with the lord for strength, wisdom and comfort. indeed, this where forgiveness is made possible. “behold, i stand at the door and knock....”

Chapter Six - Meltdowns

it's been several weeks since his treatment to counteract and remove vicadin out of his bloodstream along with several follow-ups. In all appearances he is doing quite well. On the outside all is well. Except for today, I find myself fragmented, in tears on the closet floor. I got frustrated, looking at rows of nothing to wear that looks or even feels good to my skin. Wearing corporate clothes make me feel counterfeit - in fact I hate suits. I hate that I put aside the art and graphics that I enjoy to work in sales selling and always having to put on the MASK of salesmanship. I wear enough masks thank you. 

Making all this money, having benefits only makes me feel like a slave to the corporate world. I keep thinking over all the event and years of making ends meet, the weight gain the sadness in side of feeling alone even though married. I mourn the loss of my youth and artistic spirit and thin healthy body. i mourn all my losses.

Funny thing, though forgiveness is easy for me generally, the cutting edge of the addiction razor stings me awake at the oddest times. Oh, don’t think I believe this is the end of it all. Reality smacks with empty prescription bottles found in weird places, late notices, and red letters from physician and dentist offices. 

Forgiveness doesn’t mean to blindly forget. The clean up has barely begun, and not only in his rehab. Truth be told our relationship was nearly broken. I am at the end of my rope emotionally, mentally and financially without a lifeboat to rescue me with. Let’s see how things pan out. The addiction honeymoon is yet to be over. 

the magic of pharmaceuticals took the edge off his pain while the long drawn out withdrawal simply keeps him taking more pills as a long term solution. when does the real root get pulled so he can live naturally without meds?      

WOW. I awake in the night while he sleeps deeply into morphed dreams, twitching and talking in his sleep through mumbles and laughs. ME? I continue to work in a job once loved, now grown weary with. all because I have to work, not want to. The job isn't bad nor is the company. It's that I am not where I need to be. Sideswiped by another addict again - being the responsible one while he was lost in irresponsibility. In fact I still PAY for all those mistakes with blood and sweat working too much, sleeping too little and denying myself the quote, "this to thine own self be true."

    

Just how do I, the non-addict get by? I don't numb my pain with drugs, nor medicate my lack of sleep. I work too much, read, write and lose myself in online gaming. Those are my "drugs" and comfort. Were I not so far from family and friends the need to be so withdrawn wouldn't be there. If I didn't live so close to hell - so stuck unable to move away -- Oh well "what ifs" never solved anything. how to quit these spinning thoughts? WRITE,write, yes write it all down. 

Except this one nagging thought: WHAT IF HE'S LYING AGAIN? What if he is merely using this Dr. to keep on withdrawal drugs until he finds a way to stay on those forever? What if I have been so stupid and blind again? GOD HAVE MERCY on me and expose the truth to this all. Why do I trust so easy and show me how to see when someone deceives me? For once let the addict fix their own problems - I have enough of my own.

Chapter Seven - The Truth is...
It's now 2 years after. The suboxone kept him stable: sleeps well, coherent, he seems as if he's on top of the world for once. He finds meaningful work, is participating in our lives together. We rebuild our marriage. He even pulled off a move and deployment overseas with the military. EXCEPT one thing. Suboxone. Long before he was due to get his script he would call to make sure I sent it to him. While he's doing incredibly well with his career over there, getting accolades from all who work with him... I knew something was off. 


It really went off, when the prescribing Physician all of a sudden said he couldn't refill unless he saw him in person. When I told that to my husband he flipped. I had to beg the Dr. to send him at least a wean off dosage until he was to come home. That departure from the Middle East wouldn't be for several more months. So I sent the  last doses. Something changed in his voice now. There was that nagging sense of a personality change in him.  Back to the addict being in control. Or did he ever get well? I think not. 


A week later after he finished all his Suboxone, I get a call that he's coming home due to the back injury he had over summer. He's going to a post in the next state over and is now on Oxycodone. Again. My greatest fear is realized - he's back on opiates. Did he do this on purpose? He's never said so, and of course it's what everyone else needs to know as to why he left his deployment so soon. 


I feel anger, anxiety, betrayal by the medical profession, by him and inside I am screaming "I am not ready to have him home yet." I was just starting to learn to love him again and now you send him back with drug addiction? So he did return. For three months at the post, coming home every weekend, calling me multitude of times each day. Once again the addict is consuming me with his misery. The story goes on, and the torment and agony returns to our new house.




Chapter Eight - Full Circle

At first he is ok, maintaining his appearance of everything is under control, he is fine, all is well. He goes through the motions of being the same great husband he was before and during the deployment. Yet occasional anger outbursts surface. You know the kind that make you want to hide and lock the door or simply disappear into the woodwork. He haunts the house with sleepless times, twitches and jerks through the night and hides bottles of pills all over the house. I hear him get up in the night opening the bottle and chewing them up. 


He constantly wants to go to my mom's house every day. He says for comfort of her house. She really does love him. She also has several scripts of Oxycodone in high doses for her back pain. Something in me subconsciously didn't want to go there. I thought to myself "You come all the way home, to our new town-home then want to spend time with my mom?" Stupid me. I denied my own inner voice telling me he was going there for a drug source. Finally my brother told me that pills were missing. Mass quantities at that. He didn't name names, but I knew who. I was outraged. Hate began to grow in my heart for this man I am supposed to love.


It's not long before the military prescriptions runs out long before it's ready to fill. All of a sudden he's decided to quit - cold turkey. So for two weeks I watch him pace the house like a hungry caged tiger. He can't sleep, he sits on the couch watching TV 24 hours a day, reading End Times books on the other 24 hours a day. Then he sits with his head back, his leg twitching off his body as well as his hands. It is the most awful sight I've ever seen. His skin hurts, I can't touch him. He's up he's down and all over the place as you see his mind churning furrows into his brow. We don't go anywhere now. I told him if he even takes one more pill from my mother's house, it's over. We sit. He watches TV. I am shrinking from him more and more. I don't even know how to pray.


A man of war, now reduced to a bundle of drug wracked nerves. He's a mess. Broken to the core. Two weeks into this cold turkey and he goes back to the Dr. who says "You can't just go off it!" and gives him more scripts. 


OH MY GOSH. Does anyone even care or know what they do to people who are addicts? This man needs help. Rehab, drug addiction treatment and all they can do is give him MORE PILLS? I have never felt so lost or alone as now. 


Now I haunt the house at night. I can't sleep. If I do it's at the very edge of my side of the bed. I want to be far from him. I can't stand to be near. He doesn't even shower. When does this hell end? I've seen him 3 times take our gun and put it to his head. Of course it's all an act. REALLY? He blames it on his upbringing, that is how his whole family acted. Seriously? All my hope has washed away. 


I am not being selfish here. I know he must be going through the war of a lifetime in his body and head. It's not that I am NOT compassionate. I am, I am strong and full of faith, hope and love. Except those characteristics cannot be transferred to another persons mindset no matter how close you think you are.


Long before he came home, I decided to work with a therapist myself. My life was unmanageable due to leaving work, dealing with an addict, then having him overseas in war, plus a move, plus my mother's dementia and ill health. I am working on my life, ridding me of self-destructive thinking and cleaning out my mental closets of skeletons that have been rattling around. I am getting well. 


True to my pattern of relationships, when I get better those close to me seem to get worse. That's how my first marriage ended. I won't let that happen to this one. 

Here's a song describing my life with him: http://youtu.be/rWdpZeF_eMg