Thursday, March 20, 2014

You Are Not Alone


One of the benefits of having a blog are the nifty gadgets that come along with it, analysis sputtered out to me by Google that shows me what people search for that leads them here.  (Hello whoever is reading this!  You are welcome here.  Don't worry - I don't know who you are.)

Some examples:

"How to stay married to an alcoholic"
"How to live with a functional alcoholic husband"
"Secret drinking"
"Help my husband is an alcoholic"
"How to help keep a family functioning with alcoholism."
"Successful wife alcoholic."
"He hides his drinking"
"Alcoholic husband won't have sex with me"
"What to do I hate my alcoholic husband"
"High functional alcoholic help"
"Signs of a secret alcoholic"
"My wife is a functioning alcoholic"
"Arguing with alcoholic"
"What it's like to be married to an alcoholic"
"How to hide drinking at work"
"How to help high functioning alcoholics"
"Is my husband a functioning alcoholic how to tell"

So, if it makes you feel any better to know this - there are literally hundreds, thousands of people searching for information on being married to a "functional" alcoholic.  And these are just the people that happen to click on my humble little online rag here.  They are all over the world, too:  Norway, United Kingdom, USA, Australia, Japan, United Arab Emirates, Malaysia, South Africa, China, Switzerland, Nicaragua, Belgium, Uganda (Uganda!), Russia, Ireland, Spain, India, Philippines...

There are so many of us wondering what's going on, why we are so maddened by our loved one's drinking, even though "it's not a problem."  Why we feel so alone and confused, frustrated and angry.  And it's so easy to feel alone - after all, we can't point to any outside sign as justification.  We have roofs over our head.  We have money or enough of it anyway, no DUI troubles (yet? hard to when we don't go out!), no job losses.  To the outside world things seem calm and settled, and around others perhaps our spouses even seem charming and friendly, and so we end up doubting ourselves thinking that maybe everyone else is right, maybe our alcoholic is right - there's nothing wrong.  Maybe we're just imagining things.

Swimming in my own doubts (and a little bit of denial), I wondered if I would belong when I first came into Al Anon.  Someone had told me before going, "Eventually you will hear your story in those rooms."  Sure enough my stereotypes of alcoholism were quickly shattered - the woman who handled my newcomer meeting was married to a prominent surgeon who couldn't understand why she had still felt like something was wrong.

We who live with active alcoholism know the problem as it manifests in our marriages, relationships with significant others, children or siblings.  There can be "nothing" fights, accusations, blame, isolation, provocations, distractions, drama, secrecy, a lack of intimacy.  We struggle with our want to control or fix, and our reactions to the alcoholic's behavior and our pain.  Some of us blame, lecture, scold, condescend, insult, berate, sarcastically attack.  Some of us have tried to rationalize with, inform, manipulate, scold, nag or beg them.

When I realized that yes, this is a problem, my husband could be an alcoholic and this is a contributing factor in our troubles, at first I was relieved.  But then I was heavy with the somber reality of my situation; because the hardest part for me was finding out that I cannot make my husband stop drinking or get into recovery.  I cannot make him behave or think in a way that I desire, nor is it appropriate or healthy for me to do so, because obsessing about that is a good way for me to lose myself.

Now that I have fully accepted this, it has been a tough time.  In addition to having a more realistic view of our marriage and my husband's behavior, I'm stuck looking at myself now.  I personally have my own ups and downs, my own problems to deal with on top of (and that stem from) our relationship issues.  It would be really easy to abandon all that and focus on my husband's problems - in fact I've done that for a long time.  But instead, the more I focus on how they've affected me, and how I deal with stress, pain, and my environment, I feel like I'm taking my power back a bit at a time.  It's not easy, and some days are harder than others.  But it's real, honest and true.

So, now when I attend a meeting, look at my blog stats here or talk to a program friend, I am comforted by the fact that I truly am not alone.  There are so many others in my shoes - and yours.

Hope you are all hanging in and changing the things you can.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Update: New Year, Another Move.

So apparently the fastest way to break a New Year's Resolution is to make one, and mine was to post more often.  Whoops.

Thank you for your comments and e-mails inquiring about me and expressing your concern.  It reminds me that oh yeah, people read this thing - and strangers I have never met actually care about me!  The world is a crazy and awesome place.  

I promise there's a good reason I've been so silent.  Well, a good enough reason, I think - we have moved again.  And because of the backlog of posts I have collected in my draft folder, the announcement was never made.  But all the while, between schlepping and hotel stays and all the gas stops and all the unpacking I kept telling myself, 

You have to post.
Post already. 
Blog won't post itself.
See?  People are asking about you.
You have a blog.
Just wanted to remind you of that.
You should probably post now.
Okay...how about tonight?
Tomorrow?
Next week?
Ugh. You win.

Our new "Anytown, USA" is actually great, and I was excited at the prospect of living here, despite being upset that we were moving.  You know, again.  And doing the math causes a longer than ever delay when I stop to count how many moves in how many years, but I think this makes...four times in a little over three years.  Somewhere there's a really crappy award for that with our names on it.  I don't even want to tell you how amazing I am at packing boxes now.  But I'm pretty amazing.

It is late here so I will wrap this up but, dare I say (*wincing*), posts are forthcoming.  Seriously! 

Goodnight, and I hope you are all getting the help you need, one day at a time.

Monday, January 13, 2014

Happy Bloggiversary

Wow. It's been a full year since I started this little recovery/online journal/dark comedy experiment, and 44 posts later I am not surprised by how much more there is to explore, discuss and share. I am as ever humbled by the community of readers and sharers here, and I look forward to fleshing out and publishing the 29 drafts that have been waiting in the wings.

A lot has happened over the last 12 months. You know, I remember exactly where I was that night, literally and figuratively, as I sat in our dining room and signed up with Blogger, then typed and emoted and edited away and clicked "publish" on my introductory post. I remember the fear, the frustration, the feeling of emotionally throwing my hands in the air and wondering "What else can I do?!" My husband's behavior was completely irrational and unacceptable, and my own obsession with his drinking and behavior was unacceptable. When I found bottles I was compelled to look for more. I spent hours analyzing what he said, what he looked like when he came hone, trying to smell his breath and seeing if I could "catch him in the act."

But more than anything else, I spent even more time forming the story in my head that, summarized, is "Husband bad, me good." I replayed every outburst, recalled every insult, and fantasized about smarter, wittier and at times just plain dramatic responses and reactions. Soon my imagined life was worthy of silent-era fainting, villain-hissing and damsel-rescuing. Sure, things could get pretty crazy. And there is a lot of real pain and legitimate damage. But.

It was just a bit much.

And if my mind wasn't wrapped up in a self-righteous, codependent revenge scenario, it was worrying about the future. What would he do next, how will I respond, should I leave him? But then what? Where will I go, what will I do? What would my friends and family think? Would some of them come back and respect me more? Would they judge and abandon me? How would my husband and I divide up our things, decide on the pets? Could I sneak the espresso machine without him noticing?

It is still my first impulse to cast myself as the heroine, the victim; to worry and panic and shake from fear, to mentally pack and unpack several times a day. Thankfully, after a little recovery and a ton of Al Anon meetings, the alarm sounds sooner now and I can rescue myself from myself - often my own worse enemy.

There is so much to catch up on. A resolution of mine this new year is to post more often to prevent these backlogs and to offer up more of everything, especially the honest and fearless analysis of my own shortcomings, to further my own recovery and possibly shed light on a path for any of you who are sitting where I was that night. Thank you so much to everyone who reads here. There really is hope.

xoxo