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——-blue october-hate me——-

I have to block out thoughts of you so I don’t lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I’m alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home
There’s a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
An ounce of peace is all I want for you. Will you never call again?
And will you never say that you loved me just to put it in my face?
And will you never try to reach me?
It is I that wanted space

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you

I’m sober now for 3 whole months it’s one accomplishment that you helped me with
The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won’t touch again
In a sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night
While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight
You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate
You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take
So I’ll drive so fucking far away that I never cross your mind
And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you

And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave
Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made
And like a baby boy I never was a man
Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand
And then I fell down yelling “Make it go away!”
Just make a smile come back and shine just like it used to be
And then she whispered “How can you do this to me?”

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you
For you
For you
For you

——–

I left him the day Michael Jackson died (that’s the only reason I remember what day it was); I packed some shit and left the house. I ended up going back, six hours later. What is this, baby steps? I guess. That was the first time I’ve made it out of the house. The other time I broke it off, I stayed and sobbed alone. Life is a bitch.

He had been doing really well. Then the ravenous animal that is alcoholism sucked him away from me again. This past weekend was horrendous. We went on a camping trip with some friends. He got plastered and proceeded to pick fights with me, in front of them all, for over two hours straight. The humiliation of it didn’t hit me until yesterday. The waves of anger coming over me made me so sick, I shut down.

The emotional manipulation is rampant. I can’t figure my way out of this. I don’t know if I want to be out of it, yet. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I want. I’m tired of it but I’m scared of life outside of it.

To people outside of this situation, those who have never dealt with an alcoholic – they wonder what it is, wonder what keeps me here. But their anger at the situation and frustration do not help me.

Monday I proceeded to talk to him in a calm manner about his lack of communication skills. Basically what he does is bottle shit up inside and won’t talk to me, then gets really drunk and proceeds to lay it all out. I told him it’s not fair and unacceptable. When he’s drunk I have no way of communicating to him my thoughts on whatever the subject may be. That got me thinking, if he knew how to communicate, would he feel the need to get drunk to drown his issues and stresses away? I don’t know.

I held steady until he walked out the door to go to work. Then I let the breakdown happen. At 3:41 a.m. I couldn’t take it any longer.

“I had already decided to quit drinking,” he said. “I have been hurting all night,” he said. “I love you so much,” he said.

I stayed.

He was hurting all night. Poor thing.

I’ve been hurting for years now. What about ME?

Not only is he an alcoholic, he’s a porn addict as well. Porn sites, find your sex partner now sites, personal sites. What exactly is he looking for? Sex? We have a great sex life, as long as his willie isn’t drunk. A new girlfriend so he can dump me? Can’t you stand to be alone, baby? Tired of my complaining about his drinking? What? WHAT?

He hasn’t had alcohol in the house since Feb. 1st. – Where is he hiding it?

If not hiding it, how long does he plan on “quitting”? How long can his body, his mind, take it?

Next time he starts up again, what will I decide to do? Am I going to put myself through this for the rest of my life? Or until he kills himself with it? Am I so weak I can’t help but stay and watch him slowly die? Can I stand that?

Can I live my life never having children? (He fires blanks.)

Can I accept this life?

If I can…why?

Still, it freaked me out when he said, “I love you” when we were doing something in the bedroom…

I know it’s been a slow departure on the slowest of trains, but it has started picking up momentum and will soon be chugging away, full steam. Things like leaving the home you’ve known for four years take careful planning and saving. Things like these take time.

I will not be with him soon.

When does it come to the point in time where you look around and decide it’s time to just cut your losses, and move on?

I’m not sure. I know the time is upon me. I have reinvested some of myself into this hopeless enterprise, for the past two months or so. I am realizing daily that it is not as I would like it. Who am I to toss aside four years because of something I don’t like? Well, I’m a person – a living, breathing human. Am I being too picky? If I cannot take a stand for what I deserve, no wonder I get less than I hope for…

People come and go, men come and go, dreams come and go, and mine have long since gone the way of the dinosaurs.

I used to do things myself. I used to go out and be a performance poet. I did, really.
I used to go to plays, concerts, readings. I used to read all the time, expanding my intellect.
I used to have girlfriends and did girly things.

Now I’m a quasi/pseudo-mother to several midgets I don’t believe in…it’s not their fault, it’s their parents’ fault. And it’s only every-other weekend, so what do I have to complain about? – I can’t stand it from the moment they tear through the door to the moment they tear out it two days later. I cannot deal with his children for barely 5 days out of a month. Does that make me a bad quasi/pseudo-mother? Nope. They aren’t mine, and he should be doing the bulk of the work with them, not me.

Who helped the 11 year-old with a school project? Her? Him? Nope – me. Am I taking on this role of quasi/pseudo-mother/friend/tutor? Do I get paid for this shit? No.

Household chores, which normally I don’t gripe about — are my responsibility alone. How did that ever come about? He’s responsible for half of it yet he does none of it.

I know this blog will make some people furious – because they say I deserve better.

What about you? What do you think?

“What’s that?”

“oh…a halloween party thing.”

the card read, “Join Us for Our 2nd Anniversary!”

“Whose anniversary?”

“john’s bar.”

oh.

I’m reading a book titled “The Eight Human Talents” and it’s by Gurmukh. In a tiny nutshell, it’s about yoga. But really, it’s about so much more. Nearly 28 years on this planet and I have had my share of issues. This post is turning out to be a post about myself more than anything else, and that’s okay. I have hope in reading this book. I am beginning to take control of myself, after spinning out of control so many times over the span of so many years.

I cannot count all the doctors and therapists and social workers and psychiatrists and psychologists and psychoanalysts, etc. that I have seen in my lifetime. I just found a therapist (read: last week) whom I really am very pleased with, and have an appointment with a new pdoc (that’s mental-speak for psychiatrist aka head doctor who can prescribe you medication) set in two weeks. I hope that goes well.

While I’m thinking on it, I found an online forum that you may find helpful, if you have stumbled across my site via the living with an alcoholic tag. (I know there are quite a few of you; WP provides general stats and I think on average, 1.2 people per day find my blog through that tag.) It’s a recovery site, but also has forums for family and friends of alcoholics. I sometimes find these types of sites helpful, but sometimes it makes me feel worse, but that’s just me. Here it is: http://www.soberrecovery.com/forums/

I have also started back to work, after a four week break. Suffering a type of nervous breakdown requires these things. I have been caught in the mindset that I am stuck where I am, which is not true at all. I seem to need constant reminding that I can change anything at anytime, or get a new job as I’m very capable, or start a business because it’s possible. I’m knocking quite a few ideas around in my head, but half of it is manic when I do and thus not very productive. I lost my train of thought due to a phone call, so I’ll end this post before it becomes completely ridiculous.

Things I have learned (to do or not to do) when living with an alcoholic:

1. As stated in my previous post, don’t let them egg you into fights. It’s easier said than done, and you’ll be swallowing a lot of hurt, but please just don’t do it. Save your hurt for later, when they are sober and can see what they’ve really done by their actions.

2. It is not your fault. It began a long time before you came into the picture. Let me repeat:

IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.

- no one ever told me that. I had to figure that one out myself, too. There’s no Living With An Alcoholic class they place you in when you’re a kid or teen or college age person, or any age for that matter. I’m sure if you’ve found my blog by using the tag “living with an alcoholic” as many of you do, you know this by now.

3. Realize there are reasons why they drink. They are much more complicated than you’ll ever be able to understand – however, the addiction is the simplest part to understand. They. Just. Can’t. STOP.

4. Don’t pick fights with them while they’re drunk. That’s their job. Leave your comments/screaming/shouting/crying to when they are sober. It has more of an impact. Did I say this already? Good.

5. They will not wake up one day and decide, “I’ll quit drinking today!” and manage to do it. It doesn’t happen. Stop hoping for it. Stop hoping; start acting.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve cried because of something he’s said or done while he was drunk. I cannot count the fights, I cannot count the wasted money, I cannot count the cases or bottles. There are too many, there is too much. If he knew about this blog and read it, what might he say? He’d be angry, he’d be upset, he’d say I’m telling lies? I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m done putting forth the effort to react to him anymore. I’m done reacting. He’s going to start acting or I will act my way out the door.

6. Make up your mind if you’re going to either: a) lie down and take it and think that this is all there is – that you are hopelessly stuck loving someone who has such a terrible addiction or b) fight tooth and fucking nail for them to wake up and continually reinforce that their behavior is unacceptable. It’s a hard choice. Thus far I’ve chosen (b). We’ll see if any of it helps/hurts worse…

7. Don’t ever let them scream at you. During said phone conversation mentioned in the previous post, he literally screamed at me, so loudly that I couldn’t understand what he said. I asked him what he said, then he said, “Fuck it, I’m done.” and hung up on me. The next day, I mentioned this and advised him that I will NOT tolerate him behaving like a 2 year-old and will not tolerate him treating me like a little child, and will not tolerate this type of behavior any longer. This is what broke the last straw for me. He literally screamed at me, which he’s never done before. I don’t deserve that; neither do you.

8. You deserve respect and love and to be treated in all aspects of your life as a loved human being. If they cannot manage that, then they are just not worth it.

9. If all else fails, move the fuck out.

two nights before I was to come back, he called me, drunk off his ass. he lied to me, said he only had a six pack. I’m no idiot; I’m no fool. it was much, much more than that. also, there was some JD in the mix, which makes him mean.

he called just prior to going to sleep, so I had no time whatsoever to compose any thoughts. he kept egging me on, trying to get me to argue with him. some days they are just looking for a fight – not about anything, but just to fight with you. don’t let them. it might make them angrier, but in the long run, you’ll thank me, for not having wasted expended energy on it. you can use that for something else, like mustering everything up the next morning, when he knows he was wrong and can’t remember exactly what, but he knows that he was terrible to you. somehow, he knows.

I asked him how much he had had; he said a 6-pack. the next morning I asked him something during my tirade, and he said he didn’t remember. I said, bullshit, because you said you only had 6, therefore you weren’t that drunk. I had more than that he said. then why did you lie? I asked. he had no answer.

I laid the ultimatum out: change your thinking about not ever wanting to go “see someone” about your addiction and your issues, or learn to live without me. I advised him I required evidence of him doing the first choice. he called me back 10 minutes later, having called someone I recommended, left a message, and also located the local addiction center office. I was blown away. let’s see how long his feeble efforts last.

you may think that is a harsh statement, but I’m not getting my hopes up. if he really gives a shit, which I know he does, then he will continue. if he can’t deal with himself by himself, then I will not continue to deal with him. I’m on my last shred of patience and forgiveness. this needs to be worked through and beyond, and if it cannot, then I will leave.