new year
January 22, 2012
11:05 p.m.

Oh, here we are again.

What a fucking year.

2011. How could it possibly have been worse than 2010? And yet, it was.

I ended things with the man I was involved with beginning last January, two weeks ago. It was a year of confusing contradictions. Awful paranoid distrust brought on by worse betrayals, alongside the wonderful feeling of physical security and deep love. Lies and infidelity coupled with unbelievably intimate and clear communication and an intense sense of connection. He was the best and worst I've had in anyone, all in one relationship. That's the long and the short of it.

A therapist said to me once that often our patterns will repeat themselves and intensify until they are obvious and painful enough that we have to alter our behavior.

Because of this relationship, and the unparalleled amount of pain I've been in over the past 12 months as a result of it, I had to face in July that I have a problem. I have never been in a relationship with someone who was not an addict or an alcoholic or both. Whether sober or not, I have never been in a relationship with someone with a normal relationship to substance. Most of my friends are addicts too. Sometimes it seems like I'm the only non-alcoholic in the world.

At the urging of my therapist, I went to an Al-Anon meeting at the end of July. I had been to Al-Anon meetings before, but none had felt right so I never went back. But this one was different. Maybe it was because I was so desperate for help but this one felt right. It was a large, diverse group but everything I heard said there made sense. People talked about recovery --a kind of life that I wanted to be able to lead myself. I raised my hand and shared about what I was struggling with at home. I said I didn't know what to do. I loved him, I didn't want him to leave, I didn't want to kick him out, and yet, I didn't want what was happening to be happening. People came up to me after the meeting and gave me their phone numbers. They offered me support and promised that if I kept coming back, I would find hope. And that's been true. It didn't make the awful things happening at home any less true, but I started to find my own path through it.

The double edged sword of being in recovery is that it involves admitting that you're sick. It was convenient and useful to blame alcoholics for my dysfunctional relationships. If the problem wasn't me, and always them, I could be the victim --A role I've played comfortably for a long time. When I got to Al-Anon, I heard them say that Alcoholism is a family illness. People who live with addicts get sick too. And I could see that in my own behavior. I had turned into a junkie, only I wasn't shooting heroin or drinking. But that was the only difference; I was isolating from my friends and family, lying about who I was with, what was going on in my life. I was hungover from not sleeping, from worrying, from crying. At home, I was afraid to leave the house because I was afraid if I did, he'd use or go see the other woman he was involved with. And I'd become obsessed with her --a woman that I have still never met... It felt awful, shameful, and unberable. I was sick. I am still sick.

But at the end of December I reached a breaking point. I was realizing that I couldn't trust him and I didn't think I was going to be able to get over everything that had happened. I started to want out of the relationship and my obsessions in a real way. I thought about it for a few weeks and then, just after the New Year, I saw he'd texted the other woman that he missed her. It was the last straw and I quietly and calmly told him I didn't want to do it anymore. I didn't want her in my life or thoughts anymore, and I didn't want to be with someone who couldn't be satisfied with what I had to offer. I told him that he needed to go figure out what he really wanted and I decided I wasn't going to try to control or influence what that was any more.

He was amazing and kind to me through it all. I had never had a break up that was non-traumatic but, because I was so calm and because he is so calm, I feel like we broke up with a lot of love. I had always believed that was possible, but it was a relief to find out for sure.

Even without trauma, I'm sad. I wanted to build a life with him, take him up on his declarations that he was going to marry me. But I think he's very sick and doesn't know how to do what it would take to actually get well. I'm not convinced he even knows what he wants in order to work toward it. While it is very difficult for me to understand or believe that it wasn't that he simply didn't love me enough, I get that it is probably just that he can't, not that he won't. There's a big difference. Whatever amount of a pain in the ass I may be (and God knows, I am), I'm trying to trust that I'm still worth doing the hard work of a relationship for and that someday, someone will be able to meet me where I am and give me back as much as I give.

In the meantime, my quest is to keep trying to get well myself. 'Be the person you want to find" Cheri Huber says. As in, behave like the person you want to be with, but also, don't look for other people --look for yourself. So I'm doing that. I am working with a sponsor, doing the 12 step thing. I'm on my 8th step right now, which is hard. None of it is easy. I am scared basically all the time. But it seems infinitely easier than trying to make a life that wasn't working or going to work, into something perfect. Trying to recognize the behaviors that have made me repeat the same mistakes over and over and trying to do something different requires a lot of vigilance. Especially when the behavior is so ingrained that alternative behaviors don't come to mind easily. But I'm trying.

I miss him every day. A lot. He was, despite his deplorable behavior and actions, my best friend and, I believe, a good human. I wish I were made of teflon so I could withstand anything he had to throw and it wouldn't hurt me and I could just be his rock forever. But that's not the way it is. That's an unrealistic, romantic dream for a relationship and ultimately unfair to me. I tried it that way and now, my self esteem has been shredded, I feel ugly and worthless and more hopeless than I have maybe ever. But I am also finding a way to work with all of that and learn from it so that, at the same time that I'm feeling so dejected and broken hearted, I can also see the possibility of a blank slate. It had to get painful enough that I'd be willing to do whatever it took to change.

He hasn't tried to contact me since he left. That hasn't happened before --he's always sent heartsick missives within a day of moving out. So he must be serious and he must know I'm serious too. As much as I want him to call or text, as much as I stare at the phone and will him to call so I can just say "come home." I am grateful for this reprieve from the circus. I want to do the right thing and get better. And so I'm grateful to him for not giving in, or letting me give in. And I'm grateful to myself for the same. Still, I'm trying to deal with the emotions that brings up --the gratitude that he is respecting my wishes, the sadness that he isn't coming "to fight for me" by being in contact, worry that it means he doesn't care, or has moved on with his life already, and an awareness and anger that if he could cut off his contact with me, then why couldn't he cut off his contact with her? But I may never know. It doesn't matter. I keep remembering that I'm the one who chose this --he would have stayed indefinitely. Maybe forever.

I feel that, in many ways, I'm detoxing right now. Trying to wait out the physical withdrawal symptoms of addiction while it leaves my system and then continue on through maintenance of the psychological aspects of my addiction. I am definitely very strung out and sick over him. But rather than bury myself back into the alluring and warm haze of being with him, I'm going to sit on my hands and practice what my sponsor calls "waiting for the second marshmallow." (A study gave children a choice between being given one marshmallow to be eaten NOW, or receive two marshmallows if they waited 15 minutes. Noting which children would choose the immediate gratification versus the ones who waited, the study then followed the children as they grew up. Not surprisingly, the ones who chose to wait for the second marshmallow did considerably better in life than the ones who chose the instant gratification.)

And I am going to try to write. I'm reopening my diary, and making private most of the entries from the last year because they are very painful and very personal. But I miss this little forum, my relative anonymity, and the ability to put something out into the world.

Today was a hard day. I'm hopeful tomorrow will be better.

xo -L