Sleeping With Addiction
Hi, I’m Treat. (Hi Treat.)
I’ve loved and lived with my partner for over four years now. We like to employ a certain open-door policy, insist that all are welcome, nuestra casa es su casa, etc. I’m accustomed to hosting and managing all the different personalities that enter, ensuring that everyone is comfortable and enjoying themselves. Love and happiness are bountiful here and we’ve had a multitude of houseguests — visitors, cats, dogs, reptiles, randos, family, friends. The one guest I never anticipated hosting was addiction.
While the presence of the disease took me by surprise (the rug-pulled-out-from-under-me kind of surprise), it shocked my partner even more. After so many years of private, casual use under what he thought was full control, he just couldn’t believe that he identified as an addict. He still struggles with that identification today, as many addicts do when things are going particularly well.
Moving right along past my pain, the daily tears and destroyed trust to your left, the concerned looks, “How aaare you’s” and stigmatic questions to your right, the overall ride is actually a blessing. It didn’t take long for me to see that. While he was 1,500 miles away in treatment, we both re-discovered our individuality, defined our faith and were able to test our collective strength in the face of some serious hardships. I found that I was willfully strong, with or without him. Choosing to stay in the relationship never feels like a burden or an obligation, as much as an opportunity to continue growing together. We’ve already come so far from where we started and for now I’m curious enough to see what might come next.
As I continue to attend Al-Anon, I hear all-too-familiar accounts that bring me right back to my suffering at the height of someone else’s addiction. I still replay the worst nights in my head. The paranoia creeps back into my thoughts when he comes home late from work. We, powerless against addiction, crave the truth of the situation and have to rewire our brains to understand that the only truth that matters is our own. Hearing others’ stories and listening to their feelings that I have felt myself, makes it seem like everyone in those rooms has been haunted by the same ghost. But at least we all get a good belly laugh from the same jokes, and can be there for each other when it is needed most. They may all be strangers, but the warmth is so real.
There’s the person we love and adore, and then there’s the shadow of addiction prowling along behind. When the light hits at different angles, the shadow turns our loved one into a series of strangers. Your boyfriend becomes the teenager who bold-faced lies to get what he wants. The sickly, whining child who refuses to cooperate or get out of bed. The erratic psycho ex who brings up past misdeeds and nonsensical accusations. The faithless father who agreed to show up to the SINGLE most important game of the season and then doesn’t even apologize for forgetting. I remember times when I would wake up and look into his pinpoint pupil’d eyes and not know who was staring back, which version of him I would be living with that day. I imagine I’ll be unconsciously (or hyper-consciously) assessing his pupils for the rest of our time together, however long or short that may be. I don’t pretend to assume anything anymore.
I consider it a hallmark of my character, that I can look at this past year as a blessing. It would be just as easy to label it as the worst year of my (otherwise blessedly wonderful) life, but that would be a choice and I relish the power to choose happiness over misery. I was lucky enough to have an amazing network of support, including my parents, his parents, my best friends, his recovery coaches, countless therapy sessions, Al-Anon, even extended family and understanding employers. I also found and continue to find comfort within the pages of the Big Book of AA. It truly is a fantastic read and a major source of my understanding and compassion. If you ever find yourself in such a situation, do not let yourself or your life spiral. Help is out there, and you’re never alone.
