Why I Love Being Married to an Addict
Addicts are self-centered to the core, driven by one hundred forms of fear — it says so in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous — and, oftentimes, are incredibly charismatic, fun and gregarious.
My addict, Preston, fits this description perfectly.
When I met my husband, 14 years ago, I was 22 years old.
I didn’t know a thing about addiction.
I knew nothing, yet, during a two-hour car ride where he was held captive, I determinedly proclaimed that he was crazy and wrong for thinking he could possibly be one of those people.
“Why do you insist on degrading yourself by calling yourself an addict? You’ve been clean for 5 years. Why do you still think you’re an addict?”
His response?
“I don’t have a problem calling myself that. You do.”
I was infuriated and disappointed in him.
If only he could see I was right.
I continued to berate him, genuinely believing he would see the light.In my mind, alcoholics were waste-of-space, couldn’t-get-it-together, had-themselves-to-blame drunks who were homeless and drank out of brown paper bags.
What I know today is something quite different. I wish to live in a society where addiction is supported, not scorned.
The first 12 step meeting I went to, in a small Texas town, confirmed all my “knowings.” I had come face to face with the underlings of society. About 80% of the men and women at this meeting were getting papers signed. When I found out these papers were for their Parole Officers and halfway houses I felt scared, and utterly curious.
I’d never met anyone who had been arrested, let alone gone to jail.
My thoughts turned to this new man I was falling in love with.
How could I be attracted to someone who felt so at home here?
I was scared of what I didn’t know.
Have you ever heard that when you point your finger at someone, you have three fingers pointing back at yourself?
Let me change him so I can feel better is not a 12 step principle.
As I learned more about addiction I learned that I had been surrounded by the disease my whole life. This came as a complete surprise because what I knew was normal.
If people didn’t drink and party I thought they were losers, and weird.
Conversely, I didn’t know the emotional pain and suffering I was feeling as a 22-year-old was a direct result of the alcoholism in my family.
What do I mean by emotional pain and suffering? I didn’t feel quite right in myself. I didn’t have long-lasting friendships that I desperately wanted. I would argue with Preston for what seemed like an eternity. Just as arguments were finishing they’d start-up again. I often wound-up saying, “If you’d just do it this way, then everything would be ok.”
When you are surrounded by the disease of addiction you live in chaos. Family members tend to control everything — to be controlling — in order to feel a sense of normalcy. Addiction brings chaos. As a result, family members become just as sick as the addict. That’s why addiction is a family disease. The most undiagnosed part of addiction is the family.
It’s absolutely no coincidence that I attracted an addict because I grew up around many. After all, we attract who we are.
I feel so grateful that I attracted one in recovery. That, my friends, is a miracle by itself.
Preston was kind and patient. He loved me for who I was and he trusted that I would find my own way.
Recognizing that I was sick, too, after thinking I was a “normie,” he encouraged me to find my own outlet.
Over time, with Preston’s help and a 12 step program of my own for friends and families affected by the disease, I came to realize that my self-righteousness was fear. Fear that the man I had fallen in love with didn’t have the perfect story; didn’t look and sound exactly the way I had pictured in my dreams. Fear of what other people would think of him, and of me for choosing him; of how to handle this recovery thing I knew nothing about, and that seemed so shunned by society.
I wanted to make his addiction nice and perfect.
Though I didn’t know it at the time, finding my own recovery was one of the best decisions I have ever made because I started learning about me.
My addiction to pleasing, performing and perfecting was just as sick as the alcoholic reaching for the bottle. Worse, I didn’t need a drink or drug in me to act crazily!
I wanted to be more open and free with myself and others, rather than judgmental and closed-off.
On the outside I seemed confident, ballsy, and fun.
I was.
On the inside I felt like nothing was ever enough to make me happy. I also felt tight and scared.
I learned that addiction is absolutely not a choice. It is a disease just like diabetes. You may find yourself rejecting that idea immediately. There is no rejecting it. It’s a fact as outlined by the American Medical Association in 1956. Addicts are not hopeless idiots who have no willpower and should make better choices.
Today, as a full time Life Coach and dedicated 12 step member, personal development and a spiritual way of being are the cornerstones of who I am.
I strongly believe the world would be a drastically different place, for the better, if everyone was in a 12 step program.
As of the writing of this article, my husband celebrates 18 years and 7 months clean and sober. He is 39.
I celebrate 11 years and 7 months of a daily commitment to emotional sobriety. I am 36.
Today, my husband does not crave a drink or a drug, and hasn’t for many, many years, but he does crave escape, freedom and a feeling of no responsibility. This shows up in many obsessive and selfish behaviors, which left un-checked could be dangerous to his sobriety. That’s why he continues to go to meetings.
I crave being understood, a form of people pleasing, and recently it’s getting me into trouble. Practice makes progress. I continually use the tools of the program to grow, and to give myself grace when I stumble.
Recovery, and its’ principles, create a common language and foundation in our relationship. As does a commitment to couple’s counseling, which we advocate for all the time.
Addicts are beautiful human beings who are struggling. They require our compassion not our judgment. The vast majority are men and women that live next door to you, who go to work and have families. They aren’t the can’t-get-it-together, homeless, brown-paper-bag-drinking-underlings I thought they were. It’s hard to believe I ever thought that was the case. Thank God I have evolved.
Due to judgment, many recovering addicts, I know, are afraid to be open about their sobriety. They are scared of how it might damage their professional reputation; of what people might think.
I understand, because we have a long way to go as a society to reduce the stigma of addiction. Check out Preston’s podcast, The High Cost of Anonymity, as a great resource.
My husband and I choose to be open about, and proud of, our respective programs. We believe that, in sharing our stories, we literally may save someone’s life. We may be the only example of recovery that person, that family, ever sees. The number of times our honesty has lead to a stranger being able to reach out for help is countless.
Anonymity is a key component of the 12 step world. While we respect that tradition and would never tell anyone to break it, we have found that being open works for us.
Today, I am grateful for my fun, fearful and charismatic addict. He has taught me so much and I wouldn’t be half the woman I am today without him. Other days I want to stab him between the eyes and that seems perfectly normal.
Addiction has changed my life immeasurably, changed my family of origin, and will set a tone that I am proud and excited to have our child understand.
If you or a loved one is struggling with addiction, or its’ effects, there is help and hope.
Do I want to be right or happy? Do I want to be perfect or human?
Sometimes I still want to be right and perfect.
As we say in the program, That’s why I keep coming back.
How did this blog help you today? Leave a comment over on the blog.
With Love,
Sarah xxx
p.s. know someone who is struggling with addiction? share this with them.
