Hopefulness

Tonight's Al-Anon meeting subject was boundaries - and some of our readings distinguished between boundaries and walls.  It's remarkable how so often I feel as though a meeting is directed at me - that somehow the group conscience that figures prominently in our 2nd Tradition* knew what I needed on a given evening. 

So the meeting topic meshed remarkably well with my day yesterday - a day that I spent with Al.  We had a nice, peaceful, fun day going to a local festival.  We enjoyed the same musical acts, and were frustrated by the same inane and rude behaviour of some of our fellow humans.  We talked about a lot, and we talked about a little.  Digestible doses of each. 

At the end of the day - and as I wrote to Al this morning - I felt more hopeful than I had in six months about our future.  Much of the hope sprang from the lovely day; much of it sprang from Al's approximately one month of sobriety, and his commitment to continuing it. 

Back to tonight.  We spoke of, and read about, boundaries.  It made me think about whether at times in my relationship with Al and with others I'd been too inclined to set up walls rather than boundaries.  Walls are rigid; boundaries are flexible.  Doors are open with boundaries - with walls, not so much.  As I read and meet about, and absorb more Al-Anon principles.  I look back and wonder what actions I've taken that perhaps were ill advised; what rules I've made that perhaps aren't helpful, either to Al or to me. 

I need to think more about whether the rules I impose on myself and on others are more in the wall category, or in the boundary category.  My guess is that it's the former, but with seeing the issue, my hope is that my rules will convert themselves. 

In the meantime, I'm pleased about the sense of hopefulness that I'm experiencing now, and pray that it will continue. 

*The 2nd Tradition holds: 

For our group purpose there is but one authority—a loving God as [s]he may express him[her]self in our group conscience. Our leaders are but trusted servants—they do not govern.

Winehouse

Yes, it's the obligatory Winehouse post.  But I'll let someone else do the talking.   

I'm no Russell Brand fan.  I don't appreciate his humour, his actions.  But my opinion of him went up 100-fold with his posting about his friend, Amy Winehouse.  Here are the first two paragraphs:

When you love someone who suffers from the disease of addiction you await the phone call. There will be a phone call. The sincere hope is that the call will be from the addict themselves, telling you they’ve had enough, that they’re ready to stop, ready to try something new. Of course though, you fear the other call, the sad nocturnal chime from a friend or relative telling you it’s too late, she’s gone.

Frustratingly it’s not a call you can ever make it must be received. It is impossible to intervene.

He speaks for legions of us.  

Shower brilliance

Okay, maybe not brilliance, but I think a good thought. 

Yesterday, I met with Al - in fact, we spend the morning together.  It was good, although I think we both felt we were walking on thin ice.  And, near the end, I fell through it.  (Don't I wish this were other than a metaphor!  It's sweltering hot here.)

I do love to give advice.  I've always been a strong personality, although not necessarily the "fixer" so often attributed to alcoholic family members.  But I do have a tendency to take charge, and have to consciously put brakes on myself to prevent myself from taking too much charge in any given situation, be it work, social, family, or other.  But what Al-Anon is teaching me (or trying to, at least) is that the alcoholic in our lives has to make decisions for him/herself.  This, of course, is the old immovable force (Al) meeting the unstoppable object (me).  Example:  Al is out of a job.  I wonder whether his unemployment is his biggest issue, but it's clearly important to him, so I have some (many!) ideas on how to approach his joblessness.  I've given them before.  And yesterday, despite Al-Anon (in fact, prefaced with the "I know I shouldn't give you advice, but . . . .") I gave him employment advice.  Non-critically (at least I don't think I was critical), but he immediately picked up on it, and reminded me I shouldn't be doing it.  He was right. 

But . . . I'm a good advice giver.  I've got good ideas, and my research skills are solid.  I do think I could help him.  If only he'd listen to me.  The Al-Anon conundrum:  I must learn to keep my mouth shut, even though I think that opening it would help us both. 

This morning - in the shower, of course, where I do my best thinking - I thought of a possible solution to this issue.  Rather than telling Al what I think he should be doing, I need to ask Al if he'd like my assistance in the various areas that I think I might be helpful.  And, dammit, I have to listen to and honor his response, regardless of what that might be.

I'm going to try to introduce this approach into our relationship.  I know I'll fall off from time to time - decades of being bossy (indeed, even making a career of it!) don't go away overnight.  But oftentimes acknowledgement and recognition of a problem is the first step to solving it.

Let's hope it works.  Let's hope I can work it.   

Positive 3

Both last evening, while enjoying a beverage with co-workers, and today, while shopping at a used-clothing store (a favorite activity), I heard Moondance by Van Morrison.  Both times my feet started moving my body backwards.  You see, I think Moondance is wonderful song by which to Foxtrot. 

I've mentioned that Al is kind.  At times he's also thoughtful, as well. 

About 10 years ago, for my birthday, Al surprised me - and I mean really surprised me - with dance lessons at Arthur Murray.  I think it may have been the best surprise he's ever given me.  We had several lessons - 6? 10? - but didn't buy the $3,995 special that they tried so desperately to sell after those initial lessons.  Although we declined (wisely) to invest our savings into more lessons, I've never regretted the lessons that we took. 

Were we talented?  Nope.  But I thoroughly enjoyed it - enough that a couple of times we went to dances on Saturday nights at rather odd clubs where Al & I were among the youngest, if not the youngest, in attendance.  I think that at least at first, Al enjoyed it too.  We learned very basic Foxtrot, Rhumba, Tango, Meringue, Cha-cha, Waltz.  We got to point that our dance partnership would impress non-dancers, for example at our company holiday party.   We followed our lessons briefly with lessons at a local community college, but within a year or 2, our dancing had dropped by the wayside.  My subsequent broken leg didn't help. 

Given the opportunity, it's something I'd very much like to re-start, even with my gimpy leg.

How I pray that someday Al and I can recapture what was so good about us as a team - and begin to tackle new challenges!  In the meantime, Moondance is resonating through my head, bringing back wonderful memories. 

He loves me, he loves me not.

Remember that childhood (girlhood might be more appropriate) game where we'd take a flower with petals, and one-by-one pick them off, with each petal alternating "he loves me" "he loves me not"?  That's how I'm feeling about my relationship with Al right now. 

Sometimes when I see him, I get a sense that, amidst all the other noise that's going on in his head, he still cares about me.  Othertimes, it seems that he can't wait to have me out of his sight.  That hurts. 

Today I picked up our cat from the house.  I told him when I would be arriving, and he told me he'd have her in her carrier when I arrived.  I thought that odd, as she is quite complaining when in her carrier.  I honestly thought that he'd reconsider so we'd have a little time to chat when I got there.  It wasn't to be.

I drove the 30 minutes, knocked on the door, and I bet I wasn't in the house for 30 seconds.  It was pretty clear he could not wait until I left.  I said something about talking, and he declined.  I wonder if he saw my eyes well up when I was leaving. 

And I wonder if he has any idea of the effect it has on me - whether it be a 30-second visit (wedged between 30-minute drives), or a one-line response to an e-mail, or no communication unless I initiate it. 

I wish I had an explanation.  Is it him, or is it me?  Does his anger toward me prohibit him from talking with me?  Is he in such a dark place that he's incapable of any kind of relationship, with me, a friend, or anyone?  Does he want to make our separation permanent, and doesn't have the courage to tell me?  Does he fear that I'm going to give him advice?  The questions, the questions.  With no answers. 

I need to return to the basics:  I am powerless over alcohol, and its effects.  I can't control him, but I can control myself. 

It still hurts, though. 

Positive 2

Al is fundamentally a very, very kind man.  A few years ago, I had a very disabled relative, and Al & I, several times a year over the course of several years, would drive hundreds of miles to take him to a place where we could take care of him and give him a respite from an otherwise hugely depressing existence.  Al was so loving to my relative - he'd make up games to play, would change his adult diaper, and would make him laugh - oh, how Al could make him laugh!  

I was reminded of that laughter last week while walking to work.  I was listening to my Ipod Touch, set, as always, to shuffle play, and the selection is, well, eclectic to say the least.  One song that came up in my queue was the Fairfield Four's rendition of "You Gotta Walk that Lonesome Valley."  I know it sounds silly now, but my relative would laugh with utter delight when, late at night when all were in bed, Al would sing/yell out "You", the first word of the song.  We would hear the amazing giggle from the next room, coming from someone who didn't have much to giggle about.  I'll never hear that song without thinking of Al and his kindnesses. 

My relative died in 2007 - a blessing.  But looking back on my own life, an important part were those time we tried to help him.  And Al was key to that help. 

Detachment again

Jeez, I'm having a problem detaching.  Intellectually, I think I understand it, but practicing it is just not part of my learned constitution.  Oh, I've successfully physically detached.  But emotionally, mentally?  Uh uh. 

I don't think I'm alone.  I note that in both of my little Al-Anon books, One Day At a Time in Al-Anon and Courage to Change, "detachment" has more entries in the index than virtually any other subject.  One passage that I found today seemed like it was written directly to and for me:

I will not interfere with the activities of the alcoholic, or watch over him, counsel him, or assume his responsibilities.  He must have the same freedom to make his own decisions as I have, since he must suffer for them if they are wrong. 

One Day At a Time in Al-Anon, p. 250

So much easier said than done. I know we're told that all behaviors are learned - but I I still think at least a little bit of altruism is instinctive.  What human would stand back and take joy watching someone suffer because they made a wrong decision?  Perhaps those who are extraordinarily callous - a tiny minority.  For the rest of us, it's unnatural.  But I get it's necessary.

But if I keep conscious of my need to step back, not counsel, watch or assume responsibilities for Al, I know that it will help the both of us. 

God, grant me the courage to change the things I can (but otherwise help me keep my mouth shut). 

Positive 1

Popping into my mind on a fairly frequent basis are times, situations, that remind me of how much I love, and have loved, Al.  I'm going to recount them here from time to time, one at a time.  Some are simple, some more complex, some dumb, some brilliant, all make me smile. 

Here goes: 

Every morning I have my breakfast of yogurt, blueberries and high-bran cereal on top.  I put it into a container, take it to work, and graze on it mid-morning. 

The cereal is odd looking, little thin strips.  It was Al who named the cereal "worms".  With shopping lists, we'd list "worms", and both knew what we meant.  These days, as I'm making my breakfast and topping it off with cereal, I think to myself:  "It's ready for worms."  I smile and think of Al. 

Navigation challenges

One of the most difficult challenges I face is how to navigate the minefield of having (1) an active alcoholic husband who (2) remains in the home we own and (3) is letting it get quite run-down but (4) won't discuss how to approach the situation because (5) there's always an excuse (no sleep, fell down, etc.) because of (1).  As for my own excuses, I work a 50-60-70+ hour a week job, the marital home is about 20 miles from where I live and work, and I just don't have the energy to tackle the cleanup that's needed. 

But I want resolution of the housing issue.  I'm still hopeful that Al & I will resume our lives together (although that date is now pushed off until at least July 1, 2012, as he'd been drinking when I saw him on July 1, 2011), it's unlikely that it will be in the home in which he's now residing.  It's just too much of a house for me, too far from work, too much upkeep.  And too full of sad memories. 

Al says he doesn't know where to begin.  He has no answers, he tells me.  Consistent with my personality, I have a lot of answers:  Start weeding, start trimming the overgrown outside bushes.  Start cleaning up.  Start brushing the dogs.  Clean out the bird cage.  Look around from the standpoint of a buyer, and do what needs to be done to sell or rent the place. 

Al's paralyzed to do the simple (but admittedly tedious) tasks required.  I accompanied Al to an AA-Al-Anon picnic on Friday.  A softball game ensued, Al playing 3rd base.  During one play, a runner was running to 3rd, and someone else threw Al the ball.  It was a short throw; Al didn't catch it, but he also made little effort to retrieve it 5-10 feet away.  The runner was safe on 3rd, and another team member retrieved the ball.  It was the first inning, and Al played no more.  Yes, he'd been drinking. 

That game is sort of a metaphor for how he's acting now.  He misses easy balls lobbed in his direction; he has no enthusiasm or energy to chase them down, however close.  It's all well and good for me to accept the things I cannot change, but our current situation puts me in an awkward predicament, especially when I want to move on getting my own place, etc. 

And he thinks he's the one with no answers. 

The mystery of alcoholism

I don't get it.  Al is way smart (former Mensa member), a whiz at math, science, computers, the best writer I've ever met, but he's not able to quit alcohol.

A rational person (that would be me) says: Al, you're smart, funny, nice.  Why do you insist on destroying your health and life and hurting those around you by constant drinking?  Why is it so terribly difficult to stop?  Why do you go to meetings, admit you're an alcoholic, read the 12 steps, speak and listen, and still drink?  Why do you drink before you go to a meeting?  Why do you try to hide it?  Do you think you're fooling anyone - your AA colleagues, your neighbors, me?"  So many "whys" and no answers.  Why?

I think it's the disconnect between the rational, non-addictive personality and the addictive personality.   Rational people - and alcoholics when the thought process is unrelated to alcohol - typically act in a rational manner.  We stop (or at least slow way down) at stop signs.  We try to stay on top of our finances.  We act in a manner that protects us, at a minimum, and furthers us, as we progress.  But alcoholics don't act rationally when they've not yet truly committed to recovery.  It's a vicious cycle. 

Sometimes I wonder if the "one day at a time" motto may, for some, be self defeating.  How many active alcoholics make that little saying the crutch on which they rely to continue to drink?  Might the thought process go something like "tomorrow I'll quit"? 

I don't pretend to know the answers.  I'm not sure anyone does.  All I know is that - despite all my readings, despite my academic knowledge - it's so sad to watch someone you love and care for sink deeper and deeper into a disease.  It's a disease that, while there's no cure, there certainly is a work-around to avoid the disastrous effects. 

Al said to me yesterday it's not like a light switch, on-and-off.  But I sure wish it were. 

A difficult weekend

I took actions Saturday that I believed I needed to take for a variety of reasons.  Although I acknowledge there is nothing I can do to make Al stop drinking and embrace recovery, I won't enable him to drink.  As a result, the actions I took made Al quite angry with me. 

The disease is so insidious that Al needs to blame everything and everyone for his quandary.  These days, I think I'm his main target; in his mind, much of his predicament is my fault. 

As I've mentioned before, Al has never been abusive, not close.  But he does belittle me - or so it seems to me.  He belittles my faith, my struggles, my opinions, the feelings that I've shared with him, even my job.  Family members and friends have mentioned to me for years that Al's not very nice to me.  But each time, I brushed it aside, making excuses for him.  Finally, after years, recent communications from Al have driven home to me that he does indeed disparage me and what I hold dear.  It hurts.  I used to take it, and only request that he keep his voice down if we were in company.  Now I realize that his conduct is not justified.   

Sometimes I think when one is very low, a natural reaction is to bring another down as low - there's something about that, clearly, that makes a person feel better on some level.  I think that's what Al's doing, unconsciously.  But I won't make excuses for him anymore.  I won't tell myself it doesn't bother me anymore.  There is no excuse for belittling another, disparaging another.  It hurts, pure and simple. 

I know why Al is angry over my actions.  If I were in his shoes, I'd be angry too - that's no surprise.  I wish we could talk about why I took them, and talk about his anger, rather than have the conversation deteriorate into hurling hurtful insults. 

This is just another issue that we'll have to deal with.  I hope we'll be given that chance. 

Hindsight only sometimes 20/20

A common expression is that hindsight is 20/20 - we can look back and clearly see our errors and how we might have avoided issues.  That's true for some situations, but not all. 

Looking back over the past 15 years during which Al & I have had some kind of relationship, I don't know what I should have / could have / would have done differently.  Would I have hooked up with him?  Would I have been the instigator to buy a home (and then another), to merge our investments and assets?  Would I have distanced myself from him long ago, at the first hint of a problem?  Would I have tried to provide more support?  Less support? 

None of the questions have obvious answers.  The one thing that I can say for certain, though, is that if I could do it all over again, I wouldn't be so Al-focused.  Instead, I'd be more me-focused. 

It's difficult for me to accept that I can't stop Al from drinking.  I can't cure his depression.  I can't get him a job.  I can't make friends for him.  As much as I'd like to, I can't do any of those things.  What I can do is take care of myself.  Historically, I've been very good about taking care of my external needs - food (too much!), shelter, clothing.  I've not been nearly as good at looking inside. 

Overall, I've been rather dismissive of such pursuits, not wanting to partake in navel contemplating. But I was wrong on that count.  I should have been looking inside - not just over the last 15 years, but my whole life.  This is a practice that shouldn't be limited to addiction and those of us struggling with it and its related effects.  90% of my short daily readings are unrelated to addiction, but instead are related to my life and my personal power to influence ourselves, my outlook, my own inner peace, my ability to address personal challenges.  The readings aren't how to influence others.  While there may be a possible and indirect influence on others, it's not expected or required.

I'm grateful that through a difficult situation, I've been blessed with learning about myself and my abilities in a way I would have never considered.   

My dream.

It's a mistake to try to mold one's partner into the image that one would like. Last week, one of my Al-Anon readings ended with:

The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.

Thomas Merton, No Man Is An Island

But I think there's a different between trying to twist a person into another's image, and dreaming about what she'd like to happen. I need to indulge in that dream.

Here's where I'd like to see Al and me on 1 November 2012:

We're back together, living in a modest but cool condo, perhaps overlooking the city.  Al has been off alcohol for well over a year, and is becoming more comfortable with his sobriety.  He's no longer embarrassed that he has the disease of alcoholism.  No more lying.  He's not afraid to talk with others about anything, including his struggles with addiction and depression.  In fact, he's spending a fair amount of time volunteering to help others who are having problems dealing with addiction.  Between his work and his volunteering, he's styaing more than busy, but still manages to go to his meetings several times a week (and I'm at Al-Anon at least once a week, as well).  He's reconnected with old friends, and has made new ones.  He's smiling a lot.  We're laughing together a lot. 

A healthy lifestyle has long eluded us (with a nasty resulting effect on my waistline), but we've finally decided - as a couple - to get serious about it.  As we've learning through, for example, scuba diving, we're better working together on a project than working separately.  So we're taking time to plan menus, we're doing a lot of walking around town, and we have a steady weekend date at the local market.  (Truth be told, though, we still have an occasional DQ Blizzard.)  We've started to entertain again, having folks over, and Al's okay with that.

Life isn't perfect.  Old behaviors, old blaming habits, creep back into our relationship, but when it happens, we'll call each other on it - and the other will listen.  We've learned that while we were - and are - powerless over alcohol, our lives had again become manageable.

I have hope.  We have a future.

There will be nightmares getting to it, but I still have a dream.  

Sarcasm

I'm beginning to understand what long-time AA and Al-Anon members say about needing to "work the program."  It's tough.

Detachment - the subject of my last post - is certainly part of it, but detaching isn't like an on-and-off switch.  Some readings emphasize the need for basic courtesy, which can also help.  But I struggle, struggle, struggle with the urge to be snarky, be sarcastic.  If something goes awry with Al, my first thought is "what a surprise, he's been drinking."  What my first thought should be, though, is "it's sad that his disease led him to suffer like that."   It's hard for me to bite my tongue (or fingers, if writing to him), but I'm really trying to work on it.

Sadly, sarcasm comes so easily to me.  I'm not talking humorous sarcasm - I'm talking the cruel variety.  Like jealousy, at best, cruel sarcasm is a most un-useful emotion; at worst, it's hurtful and destructive.  Why, then, is it so difficult to let it go?  What do I get out of it?  Am I holier-than-thou?

I need to reflect on moving toward balance in my life.  I must acknowledge that sarcasm is not helpful, either to Al or to myself.  Snarkiness is not going to prod Al into meaningful recovery - I'm not sure what will prod him, but I need to understand what for sure won't.

Al wrote to me this a.m. telling me that he had a bad fall last night, has a black eye, lacerations, and is hurting.  Yes, my first thought was "what a surprise . . . he's been drinking."  But I reflected on my initial thought, steered my mind into a different direction, and revised my thought to feel sorry for him, for his physical injuries and pain, and for what might (after all, I don't know if he'd been drinking) have led him to the injury.

I long for the day that I will have worked the program well enough to subdue those initial thoughts.  

  

Detachment

One of the strong recommendations of Al-Anon is to "detach" from your loved one with the addiction to alcohol.  The notion of detachment applies regardless of whether one decides to stay with the addicted person, or leave him/her.

I am struggling to understand detachment.  One would think it would be easier for me, as I've decided to leave the home situation, than it would be for others who decided to stay for whatever reason.  I'm at a loss to figure out how one can stay and detach at the same time.  Perhaps as I continue to learn from others' experiences I'll understand.  But - as I've blogged about before in a round about way - I'm not having an easy time detaching.  It's easier said than done.

I love giving advice.  I'm pretty good at it, as well.  There are so many aspects of Al's life over the past several years about which I've given him advice liberally.  It might be how to quit drinking, how to follow recommendations from others, how to deal with others, how to write a resume, how to search for a job, where to search for a job.  Al listens politely, then wholly ignores me, regardless of the subject.  So why would I want to continue to share advice when it's all fallen on deaf ears?   Might it be the need to attempt to control a situation, even if I can't?

Even since I've been away, I still want to be advice-giver.  I'm doing much better now, though, in not doing so.  But it's so frustrating, especially when many decisions (in my mind) are so black-and-white, even while I acknowledge that life is full of shades of grey.

I pledge, though, to continue my readings, continue going to meetings, continue to try to understand the concept of not only physical detachment (that's easy), but also mental detachment.  Maybe some day I'll better understand, and thus be able to practice detachment.

Al-Anon Daily Reads

I have a little book titled One Day At A Time In Al-Anon.  It's a small hard-cover book, and each page has a little reading and a reminder for that day.  I've had the book for quite a while, but only recently started reading it faithfully every day.

It's surprising how much I glean from the readings.  Recently there was a reading about resentment - how destructive it is.  Another warned of overly dramatizing our grievances.  Yet another spoke of the need for courtesy - simple, everyday courtesy.  These subject are but a sample - taken from just the past week - which speak directly, simply, and powerfully to issues and emotions with which I struggle.  I'm not typically into self-help books, but this one is different.  Oh, sure, some of it is hokey, and some of it seems to be directed at the (hopefully) outmoded thought of standing by your man regardless of the circumstances, but 90-95% of the content is relevant to anyone touched by addiction.  The fundamental message is that all of us have the power to control our own destiny with respect to the addict in our lives, regardless of our circumstances.  We may be powerless over alcohol, and over our family member's addiction, but that doesn't mean we our powerless over our emotions and how we choose to live our lives.

Without question, I recommend this little book.  It won't lead to a cure, but it sure will help regain sanity if one pays attention to the short thoughts. 

   

Roller Coaster

I love roller coasters, just not emotional ones.  The ups and downs were simply too much for me.  Someone who has not experienced alcoholism up close and personal probably cannot comprehend the range of emotions that I have experienced and in fairly short periods of time:

concerned
disappointed
angry
bitter
annoyed
vulnerable
paralyzed
embarrassed
useless
distrustful
indignant
heartbroken
sad
worried
suspicious
rejected
scared
resentful
unhappy

Just to name a few.  As time progressed, I found that the more positive type of emotions - sympathetic, helpful, optimistic - were being buried by the negative ones.  I was being suffocated - or, more accurately, I was suffocating myself, because I should be capable of controlling and influencing my own emotions.

But habits take a long time to modify.  Even on my own, in a moment of calmness or peace, I can find one of those negatives creeping into wherever emotions creep into.  I have to consciously tell myself "no!".  After all, negative emotions do neither Al nor me any good.  I thought I'd gotten off the emotional roller coaster.  I'm surprised I haven't.  Another thing on which I'll have to work . . . I'll be busy.

Whence the name?

I named this blog "Diary of an Alcoholic Spouse."  Not Alcoholic's Spouse.  That naming was intentional.  I'm pretty good at grammar.

An alcoholic spouse could mean that the spouse (moi) is an alcoholic.  For example, "Diary of a white man" would rather clearly suggest that the man writing the diary was white.  But I'm not an alcoholic, in the sense that I do not have an addiction to alcohol.  But alcoholism is a disease that not only affects the person with the physical/mental/emotional addiction, but all of those around that person who care for and about him or her.  I'm party of that family unit deeply affected by Al's addiction, so I view myself as not only an alcoholic's spouse, but an alcoholic spouse, as I too experience the disease.  I know that I'll never be fully recovered, either.  Recovery is a process, one that I'm not sure I've truly started yet.  Of one thing I'm certain, though:  about the best I'll ever be able to do - just like the addicted alcoholic - will be to continue the process of recovering, a process that won't be complete until I meet my maker.


  

. . . And I'm angry.

Yesterday, I wrote about how blessed I am.  In contrast, today I'm going to talk about my anger.  And angry I am, on several levels. One way to categorize anger is to separate it into the singular versus the universal.  I can be angry about a single event, or angry about the totality of my circumstance.  I'm not sure either is emotionally healthy, but both are powerful emotions that I need to address and deal with.

Today I'm writing about a singular anger, from this past weekend.  Al & I have been physically separated for a bit over a month.  But for a year, Al's family had been planning a family reunion.  For reasons not apparent to me, Al really wanted me to attend, despite our separation.  And for reasons not apparent to me, I agreed.

We departed for our 600-mile road trip.  I drove, as Al lost his license last year (DUI) and won't get it back until August.  We crossed the border, with my answering the standard questions:  "what are you bringing in? - any alcohol, tobacco?" with my standard answer:  "no, nothing."  I lied.  Inadvertently.

What I didn't know is that Al had at least one bottle of alcohol (likely vodka) with him.  I wondered at one point of our journey when he held back when I went to use a washroom, and looked like he was going into something in his suitcase.  I dismissed the thought.  Then we got to our destination, met up with the (very, very nice) family.  I noticed that Al would disappear from time to time.  And I wondered.

Some time ago, I vowed not to go looking for booze.  I kept that vow.  But when Al fell asleep late Saturday afternoon - I knew.  I suspect he would have slept through the evening meal - the main event of the weekend - had I not suggested to his sister that she go awaken him.

The next morning we were both packing.  When I was near Al's suitcase I glanced in, and saw the unmistakable bottle neck.

It wasn't until we were in the car driving back that it dawned on me:  I had lied to the border agent - a criminal offense - and Al fully intended that I lie again.  He didn't care.  I called him out on it.  He was initially dismissive, then became angry with me for bringing it up.

Yep, I'm angry.  I'm angry that not once, but twice in 72 hours Al was fine to put my ability to cross the border in jeopardy and exposed me to personal liability.  I'm angry that he pre-planned buy booze to bring with him.  I'm angry that I gave up vacation days and a weekend to drive him 1200 miles, and that he couldn't even lay off the vodka for 72 hours.  I'm angry that Al cannot tell me - or anyone, near as I can tell - the truth.

And now, I have to figure out a way to let that anger go.

I'm blessed . . .

Overall, it's possible (if not likely) that a reader of this blog might find it pretty depressing.  Those who don't know me might get the impression I'm wallowing in my current situation.  Not so.  While I'm at times depressed, at times discouraged, overall I am a very fortunate woman.

Unlike many similarly-situated women in a relationship with an active alcoholic, I'm financially independent, and have never, ever been physically abused by Al - nothing even near a threat.  He's not a boisterous drunk - the more he drinks, the more reclusive he becomes.  I've never had to put up with the financial deprivations or serious behavioral challenges with which many alcoholic family members have to contend.

Mamma and babies greeting me as I walked to work. 

I have a good job, one that's both challenging and satisfying (most of the time at least).  I'm generally respected at work, and have good, lifelong friends on whom I can count for solid advice or a virtual shoulder ("virtual" because sadly, none of them are close by).  I love to laugh, and love to make others laugh.  I walked to work yesterday, and got to take some time out to see some tiny baby ducks.

I'm grateful that I have faith - not (hopefully) an in-your-face kind of faith, but faith that gives me comfort that something is out there bigger than all of us.  My church community is caring, both towards me and towards Al, who doesn't exactly take to organized religion.  (In fairness, he's been pretty good to them, too, when he's able.)

My mother and father were loving parents, and my mother and I grew very close after my father died 30 years ago; although they're both gone, I celebrate the years I had with them, and feel that on some incomprehensible level, they're still with me, still loving me.  I have my health.

The list could continue for pages, but you get the picture.  Regardless of what has happened in the past, what's happening now, or what the future may hold, I am blessed.            

Losing my best friend

I think one of the toughest things about separation is that I've lost my best friend.  So often during the day I think to myself: "I have to tell Al about . . . " then I stop, and realize I'm not going to be telling him anything.  That hurts.  It could be work related, something about a friend, or something interesting I saw on the way to work.  No más.

A wise friend recently quizzed me about what was in it for me to stay in the relationship.  After all, we all act out of self interest, or what we perceive to be our own self interest.  I couldn't answer her then, but I think that the best-friend angle was probably my biggest benefit in our relationship.  I've always had good friends, close friends, wherever I've lived, and regardless of whether I was in a relationship.  I'm so grateful for those old friends - but realize that in the past several years, I've added almost no friends to my arsenal.  Might that be another effect of alcoholism?  Perhaps not, but it's certainly possible.  I know I've not explored fully the wide-ranging consequences of the family disease of alcoholism.  In any event, it likely exacerbates the pain of losing Al. 

While the loss of my best friend is painful, it's also a reminder that I need to live, as well - in fact, I just wrote earlier about living and letting live.  I thought I was pretty good at living, but now I'm questioning that proposition.  I need to develop a network of support, local support.  It's not going to happen overnight, but with attention and direction, I know I can do it.

But I still grieve my loss.

Live and let live?

A popular saying in AA & Al-Anon circles is "live and let live."  I personally have a whole lot more problems with letting live than with living.  

I left Al in early May.  I'd been threatening (don't we all know about those empty threats?) for some time, and indeed took a 5-week sabbatical from him and home in March/April.  I'm fortunate to have a family home to which I can retreat several hundred miles away.  (It does create challenges for my work, for my staff, for my boss, but in March it was I escape or my sanity would have escaped.)

When I left in mid-March, I truly thought that when I came home, Al would have taken the cure, and all would be well with the world.  'Twasn't to be.  The night I left, I told him my hopes, although I had to awaken him to tell him, as he was passed out.  I hugged him and departed tearfully.  When I returned, my hope vanished in 3 days.  No cure, and my world was falling in around me.  I stayed at hotel one night - he was drunk and I didn't care to share the bed, and he refused to move.  The next day I found a condo/apartment for sale, talked to the owners, and they agreed to let me rent it for a year.  Fewer than two weeks had passed since my return from my self-imposed sabbatical when I signed the lease.  He was considerate enough to stay in the spare bedroom, but he was anxious for me to leave (mainly, I think, because the spare bed is horribly uncomfortable).

But since I've been gone, I find myself wondering about him - and not just his major struggles with depression & alcohol.  I wonder if he's changed the sheets, washed the towels?  I wonder if he's taking adequate care of the many animals we have - mammal and avian?  I wonder if he's brushing his teeth, washing his clothes?  I wonder, wonder, wonder about all those things that I would have either done myself or would have reminded him to do.

And then I remember that the corollary to "live" is to "let live."  I have to let him live - let him make his own decisions, bear his own consequences.  I have to learn that distasteful consequences for me may not be distasteful to him - he may not care about dirty sheets.  I have to remind myself - repeatedly - it's no reflection on me if he's sleeping on dirty sheets, or if the litter box hasn't been clean in weeks.  I'm not his mother, and he's not 8 years old.  He makes his own choices, and those choices - good and bad - reflect on him and him alone.

Blessings to my higher power for allowing, encouraging me to live.  Now may my higher power give me the strength to let live.

Meditation

(First, a note:  I don't expect to be making 3+ postings a day typically, but day 1 is a bit unusual, so please bear with me.) 

Delivered to my mailbox daily is a meditation from a site called In The Rooms.  The site itself is good - I think the registration is worth it - but I especially like the daily meditations.  Today's is especially relevant given my state of mind right now: 

A Course Toward Soul

I will set my course toward soul today. I am not looking for a quick fix or a spiritual awakening that will change my life in the length of an hour. I am not hoping to be reborn by midnight. Rather, I am altering my course to tack toward soul. When I learn to navigate the changing waters of my life, to ride out the storms and relish the calm, I will be naturally moving toward my goal just through the act of living. The trick is to head in the right direction. When I do that, my focus allows the solving of day-to-day situations and issues to bring me closer to where I am ultimately aimed. Time is just the illusion of heading in the direction of soul. Soul is a direction, an experience, not a place. It allows me to resolve all that is in the way, as long as I hold a steady course, as long as I stay in the boat.

This is the soul moment.

 If I lose my direction. I have to look for the North Star, and I go to the north. That does not mean I expect to arrive at the North Star. I just want to go in that direction.

Thich Nhat Hanh

I looked for a copyright (c) symbol, but could not find one, so I hope I'm honoring the authors and the site by attribution.

It's pretty clear there are no quick fixes, for either the person having that awful disease known as alcoholism, or those around him who are also affected.  But focus I must, for my own sanity.

Warning signs - part 1

We met online.  It was an accidental meeting - it wasn't a matchmaking site.  From the beginning, I knew he liked alcohol - in those days, Scotch was his drink of choice.  When we first met in person, I brought him a bottle of single malt (I don't remember what it was, but it was expensive).  Initially, Al was in another relationship, but he assured me that for all practical purposes it was over (I believed him, and it was true).  And we were geographically separated by over 1,000 miles.  In 1998 or 1999, shortly before we decided to make a go of it together, he was arrested for driving under the influence (DUI).  

I'm far from a teetotaler - indeed, 20 years ago or so I drank too much too often, and looking back, I'm appalled at the condition I was in at times behind the wheel.  I still enjoy a drink now and then, but can honestly say that I've not been at risk for a DUI in probably 15 years or more.  

But when Al was arrested for his DUI, I thought it was one-off.  And it may have been.  After all, as I often reminded myself, "there but for the grace of God go I."  I know a lot of non-alcoholics that, on a given day, may have been arrested for DUI.  So I gave him the benefit of the doubt, although I did warn him at the time that it may affect his moving to be with me, as I had moved to a country that takes DUI very seriously - much more so than the US.  His lawyer blew off my concerns, saying that immigration only cares about crimes of "moral turpitude."  His lawyer knew nothing of foreign law, and was wrong.

As a result of Al's DUI, his license was suspended for 90 days, he had to take a class, and his license was restored.  A few years later, though, he faced even greater consequences:  when we applied for permanent residence status in the country to which we'd moved, his application was denied because he was deemed criminally inadmissible.  His work permit was immediately revoked, and he had to leave the country in which he had joined me several years previously.  

While our lawyer worked on petitions, etc., in 2004, Al was banished back to the US.  I was left alone with our pets, in our home on a large property that we'd recently purchased.  Our separation lasted for 4 months.  But I didn't see a problem - indeed, on Al's return, we celebrated with neighbors by consuming champagne. 

I wonder why I ignored this warning sign - it's not like I'm unfamiliar with alcohol.  My first husband was alcoholic - I'd come home at times finding him hiding his bottle; he was in a constant state of inebriation.  It caused job loss(es), and caused me to leave him.  That separation, though, wasn't nearly as difficult as my current situation, because I'd long fallen out of love with my first husband.  In addition, my sister is alcoholic.  I orchestrated her first intervention in 1987.  I'd been to AlAnon long before meeting Al. 

Would I have done anything differently had I known, had I internalized that Al had a problem?  I don't know.

The Unwilling Dump-or

Way back when, I dumped my then-boyfriend for Al*. At the time, Al & I joked often about how he was always the dump-ee, and (generally, at least) I was the dump-or. That was nearly 15 years ago. Now I find myself again in the role of dump-or, but this time I'm really reluctant. I don't want to dump Al. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. But I can't do that.  I've never been an unwilling dump-or, but I guess there's a first for everything. 

This will be my journey.  I've blogged before, and it was cathartic during a difficult time in my life, and afterwards.  I hope this will be too.

A little about Al.  He's a good man.  He's incredibly depressed, and strongly addicted to alcohol.  He's tried to address both.  He's been to rehab twice, once as an outpatient, once inpatient.  I used to think that both "took" for awhile, but now I'm not sure.  As a matter of fact, I'm not sure of anything.  Al has lied to me so often I don't know what's real anymore.  The lot of an alcoholic spouse, I guess.

I want to document my journey; some of my posts will be reflective, some factual (or at least my perception of fact).  Many will be self-revealing, but I suspect they're not unusual.  Many have traveled the path I'm now traveling.  Many are perhaps only starting the journey, like I am.  All are welcome, to read, and, if moved, to comment.

But please respect my need for anonymity, in the traditions of AA and AlAnon.

*By the way (doh) Al is not his real name.