There's always more to the story

There are distinct reasons for giving this kind of detail about the time line, attempts at sobriety, and relapses involved.  It would be naive to think that recovery happens in a vacuum, only affecting the individual or only inherent upon the actions of the individual.  How could this possibly be the case?  This human experience is a social one, with daily communication and experiences with others.  I have learned that creating a support system and being careful with what I take in (and from whom), has dramatically affected my ease in daily recovery efforts.  Yes, it always starts and ends with me.  I know that.  I also know that this time around, even realizing this crucial social factor has been revelatory at the very least.  Luckily, I have been surrounded by wonderful support and positive encouragement and I am very aware of their effects.  They didn't find me.  I found them.

Again, I wish I had accurate dates for this transitional time period- preparing to move and returning home- but much of it was a lot to take in, really.  I wasn’t actively drinking, but I was not seeking any kind of formal help either, not attending AA or any form of counseling.  And no, I did not think I needed it at the time.  I clearly did not have a physical dependence on alcohol, but anxiety was forefront in my day and in my dealings with my partner at the time.  Fear alone kept me from drinking, but I wasn’t addressing underlying issues in any productive way.  I just ran on the hope that life would get better once we were home. 

I was about two months sober the summer we moved back to the states and tried to reinsert ourselves into what had been our suburban life of friends, socializing, and sports.  I was overwhelmed with relief, and grateful for every bit of my past life that I hoped would return. We purchased cars, kids got active with their friends, we made a temporary home of a corporate apartment, and I reconnected with a few friends.

I tried everything in my power to go back to what our life was like before the move.  Unfortunately, that was its own form of denial.  The marriage was in ruins, some from my doing, some not….and betrayal had come in many forms, the worst of which was betrayal of my better self.  I did not even recognize just how damaging this was to my partner’s trust in me, and to my own self-esteem and self-worth.  By not seeking support, I was assuming that I could handle the current status of the union and that I could handle the uncertain future.  I would be terribly wrong. 

If I could go back, I would tell myself to immediately get support for such an important transition- moving back to the states and being newly sober.  Perhaps outpatient treatment (I would later learn that there are prerequisites for inpatient acceptance).  Or AA or another 12-step group.  To keep trying until I found the right home group, because they could give the support that even my friends couldn’t provide.  The point shouldn’t have been to save the marriage.  You can’t get sober with that intention, nor was I even sure that I wanted that…but to be able to handle the present circumstances and be able to make sound decisions in the future, physically, emotionally, and mentally.  To build a support system which could have included educated counselors and other people in recovery.   I should have done anything and everything to set myself up for success. 

Of course, it’s easy to say that now, because I’ve worked long and hard to distill the initial shame of admitting addiction.  It has taken longer than the 10 months that I’ve been sober- to achieve this.  The shame-ridding has taken years…just another part of my personal experience.  It is not realistic to have expected me to know what I know NOW.  Then.  I’m telling you all of this, so that if someone reading this sees themselves in this story, they may do something different.  As a society, we seem to be making small strides in our depiction and treatment of addiction and I am hopeful that this will only continue.  Recently, I was watching the Amy Winehouse documentary, and I was stunned to see clips where comedians and news people at the time were flippantly making jokes and laughing at her clear demise.  To see this was revolting and maddening for me, but just made my thoughts clearer in realizing that “asking for help” should not be considered such an easy or logical thing to do.  These media forces would continue to mock what was obvious to all- that she was dying.  I cried all the way through the rest of the film.  We have all been subject to seeing these depictions in the news and in gossip circles.  Is it really any wonder why people stay silent and continue their struggle in solitude???    

After a few weeks, we moved into a rental house right around the corner from the home we owned (which was still leased to another family), and its unavailability would be a metaphor for the other parts of my comfortable life which had inhabited that space.  I could strive for that same normalcy, but as I drove home from the grocery store, I’d have to make a swift left turn into something different.  I couldn’t open my old front door, and I didn’t want to accept that it may never be mine again.  And it wouldn’t.  I couldn’t have cared less about the big house.  I cared about a time when I didn’t feel like complete shit all the time, when my children played with friends in the front yard, when I was worthy of respect and trust and love from my partner. I would later learn new truths about the time when we resided in that house, and it would shatter everything I thought I knew of that time.

I wanted abstinence to mean something, but it didn’t seem to at all.  Not to my partner.  He had bugged me about AA back in London months back, and I had gone to a few grim meetings.  But I did not enjoy it at the time or think that it brought anything positive to my experience.  But that had been about 6 months before.  Strangely enough, he stopped asking me about 12-step meetings entirely, so I took that as acceptance that it really wasn’t my thing.  And I assumed trust must be growing.  How could it not?  Each day I just kept plugging along, hoping that with renewed trust, love might return as well.  I did not have to shake off the temptation of wine every day, but I did regularly want to escape the tension in our relationship.  I would spend many hours away at friends’ houses with the kids.  As many as I could without drawing any negative attention.

I was committed to not drinking and tried to be back in the social mix of things, holding my glass of tonic with lime while answering questions about my seemingly alluring life in London.  But I couldn’t say what I really felt, what really happened, what a disaster the marriage was…and I had been.  It was clear to me that I did not have a physical need or dependence on alcohol.  This was the case for my entire drinking career up until this point.  But the emotional need???  Jesus.  Probably.  Hard to explain.  When I was with friends and driving kids around that summer, I felt more like myself than I had in years, but once I made the turn into the driveway, the fear was always there, welcoming me at the front door.  Smiling even.

Separation began about 4 months after returning home. I was stunned and tried to understand exactly what was happening. And I became aware that there were plans in the works that I had been unaware of for…quite some time.  And truthfully, I still don’t know how far back this planning went.  Truths were revealed, from both sides, and we began the painful process to form an initial separation agreement that made sure the kids were safe with me but allowed us to live separately. This was all very, very ugly. And I became more fearful with each passing hour, while remaining in the house together, while trying to keep it all a secret from the kids.  For MONTHS.  No, not fear of anyone physically, but fear of how my past failures would be used.  Every moment was spent trying to appear strong for the kids, who were completely unaware, and leading my double life.  This effort of appearing strong and not telling the truth would lead me down a dark pathway and is another thing that I will never do again.  

Truth may be painful but keeping secrets is a gateway to relapse.  I cannot understate that.

I had close friends who tried to be supportive during this time.  I had only reconnected with a couple of people once we moved back to the states, because my entire situation was embarrassing really.  Hell, I didn’t want to be with myself, so why would anyone else want to share in the shit show?  They urged me to fight for what I thought was right and tried to carry the load of fear that I couldn’t withstand.  Saying Thank You just doesn’t cover my gratitude for what they were trying to do.  And it was terribly unfair and selfish of me to allow them to do so.  One of those relationships didn’t survive. 

Remember, I had already drunk badly in the past, so if you can imagine feeling threatened by this knowledge, you would be correct in assuming that my past behavior might be used against me. Even used in negotiations personally, financially and parentally. This is a confusing situation for me to present.  Was I paying for my past mistakes, or was I being held accountable for them?  Had I been the only person to damage the union?  Would the kids be safe with me?  Of course, I realized this needed to be the case.  How could I prove sobriety when the kids were with me?  These were all pertinent questions to ask.

This would begin the countdown to the inevitable.  The end of the marriage and the end of my sobriety.  I would add to my struggle by attempting to hold it together around others and to suffer in silence.  And shame would hover over both settings.  Public and private.

If you are doing this, please know that you don’t have to do it alone.  Yes, there ARE people who care, who will be willing and able to ease your burden.  They may not be who you’ve gone to in the past, and if you are a drinker, this is even more likely.  But they ARE there.  I am one of those people.  I understand your pain well and others in recovery feel the same way.  Even if you don’t feel like drinking at this moment, are you doing anything and everything to prepare yourself for the future?  Please don’t run on faith alone.  Faith is useless, if it isn’t followed by action. 

Reach out.

If you don’t find what you need, reach out again. 

And again. 

And again.

It’s helpful to face these memories when I was most definitely sliding towards relapse, even though I thought I was trudging through abstinence.  It just wasn’t enough- the not drinking.  Not for what I would need to endure.  I didn't have anyone to talk to who "understood" me.  I mean, the drinker in me.  I would learn that without that, it would be all too easy to go back into myself.  Well, we all probably know where that was headed.