The Strong Hold Of Addiction

When I was a kid there was a bar downtown called "The Colonial", and my mother would cross the street with us so we didn't walk by.  When I got older I learned that my father used to have to "remove" my grandfather from there quite often.  When we visited my uncle on the Cape, there was always the same smell in the house.  When I got older I went to a Rolling Stones concert, and learned what that smell was.  My mother used to say how careful we had to be, that addiction runs right through my family.  So I was a good girl, didn't drink or get high.  But everything was always a secret.  As an adult I realize that's probably how it was when she was growing up, you just don't talk about it.

Addiction is an awful thing.  Some people just think the addict is weak, that they bring it on themselves, that they should just stop.  Addicts are often seen as less of a person.  But addiction knows no age, no gender, no economic status.  Addiction doesn't care if you're a celebrity like Cory Monteith or Robert Downey Jr.  And addiction doesn't care if it takes away someone you love.   

"He said you'd be the one to save him", his friend told me one night.  And I think part of me has spent 20 years trying to do that, whether I realize it or not.  Nothing is an addict.  I can't tell you how many times I've dropped him at the VA for detox or rehab, how many times he's relapsed, how many times I hear that things would be different.  I was still the good girl, and he kept all this hidden from me.  Being as sheltered as I was I didn't know the signs.  I knew he drank and smoked pot, but I had no idea about the crack.  And probably other things I still don't know about.  I didn't recognize the dilated pupils or the jaw grinding.  I believed him when he said he used the crushed beer cans and nip bottles with the holes for smoking pot.  I never saw him do it.  He later told me that he wanted to "protect" me from it.  Unfortunately he didn't protect my heart.

"Why wouldn't you leave?"  I heard that over and over.  And I did, over and over.  But he'd draw me back in with promises.  I never used, so I had no idea what it was doing.  When he'd pick a fight with me and disappear for a few days I thought it was because of something I did.  It wore me down, made me feel like I wasn't enough.  Probably explains part of why I kept taking him back.  He's still the only man I've ever loved.  So I put up with it.  One day he smashed my car window.  So I tried to run him over.  Really.  He jumped on the hood of the car and wasn't hurt.  He got rough with me.  Just once.  I took out a restraining order, pressed charges.  Then refused to testify so the charges were dropped.

It wasn't always bad.  He stayed clean for long periods of time (as far as I know), spent time in long term rehab and in sober houses.  He always had a job of some kind.  Never laid a hand on me again, although he still had a real temper.  During one of those times we weren't together I found myself pregnant.  The father was "rebound man".  By this time Nothing and I were just friends.  But the feelings were always there.  And when things inevitably ended with the "sperm donor" and he'd stopped being part of my daughter's life, Nothing stepped up as a father to her.  He always said that blood didn't matter, that he was her daddy.  I think being "daddy" helped keep him clean for longer than he had been since we'd met. 

There would be times when he was doing great.  He was fun, sweet, and pretty much everything I wanted.  Then there would be other times when he'd be short tempered, angry, quick to fly off the handle.  I used to tell him "bring back nice ****".  After countless trips to rehab a doctor finally got to the bottom of some of his issues...he was bipolar.  The drinking in particular was his part of his way of self medicating. 

I knew I had to work on things myself.  In case you haven't guessed I was pretty co-dependent.  I tried going to Al-Anon meetings, but they just weren't for me.  Then I started to realize that my daughter was getting old enough to really notice what was going on.  And I didn't want her to think this was normal.  So I made the decision to end things. 

But I still checked obituaries to make sure I didn't find him.  I never stopped worrying, never stopped caring.  I had no idea where he was.  And after about 7 years I found him again.  Damn Google.  We've been off and on since then, although I never let him back into my daughter's life.  I still had to protect her from the uncertainty.  I do believe he's always loved me, at least as much as he could.  He still has his demons, and they still get in the way (although I don't think crack is one of them).  But I'm trying to let go.  I don't know what they future will bring but I do know I have to stand on my own two feet.  I have to not let my happiness be affected by what he does or doesn't do.  I'm trying.  But sadly he's almost my addiction.

***People have asked why I call him Nothing.  He's been my boyfriend, my fiancé, my friend, my ex, my daughter's daddy, my "one that got away", my booty call, my enemy...everything but my husband.  He knows that's how I refer to him, although he really doesn't like it.  Plus he'd be really pissed if he read this.