My story fits in nowhere, which kind of makes it fit in everywhere.
That's logical, right?
I don't like so many things about my story tonight. I don't like that triggers have started in places there were no triggers before.
What the hell? It's been a year. That isn't fair!
I got through the aftermath of Pan leaving me so quickly...but I didn't get through it at all. Like at all.
I was used to being single right away...but I'm still not used to being single at all.
It was a plague that started within the tiniest part of my being and eventually consumed me.
It consumed me, friends. It got to the point where I had to physically stop myself from driving to the store on my weekend without kids to buy alcohol. And although I did that very good thing that one time {last week}, I am not healthier now than I was then.
Because all I want to do is buy alcohol on my weekend without kids next week. And my brain says, "It's no big deal. It's one time. And for a few hours, you will not feel the things you are feeling and that will be wonderful." It would be wonderful. For a few hours, it would be wonderful. But the aftermath would be horrible. I already know that.
I can't become an addict like him. I am already wrapped up in my own world of addiction. I cannot use the same supplements he used to rid myself of pain. I just cannot.
But I also cannot keep living without healing. I cannot walk around throughout the day like everything is A-OK and expect that to heal me. It won't heal me!
What will heal me? God? A therapist? Anti-depressants?
The triggers have gotten to a point where I can't shave my legs without feeling some sort of anxiety. Because holy shit, I DIDN'T SHAVE MY LEGS ENOUGH AS A MARRIED WOMAN AND PETER ALWAYS, ALWAYS ASKED ME TO DO A BETTER JOB WITH PERSONAL HYGIENE. And that makes me part of the problem. That makes me the very reason Peter left and looked at pornography and didn't love me anymore.
I should've listened. Not respecting his simple request of shaving my damn legs is part of the reason that I am now a single woman. It has to be. Even if it wasn't the actual act of shaving my legs, the fact that I didn't respect Peter enough to do something that was NOT A HUGE DEAL makes me selfish.
But that only seems logical in my head---not in my heart. Because my heart says I tried and that I am a good person and that I am strong. My head says none of those things.
I kind of feel like vomiting but that is probably impossible since I haven't eaten in a long time. And not making-myself-throw-up-vomiting but holy-hell-my-stomach-is-in-knots-vomiting.
I hate coming on here and complaining. I want to come here and tell you how awesome things are. And the truth is, awesome stuff is still mixed in my life. It isn't all bad. It isn't all triggery and failure and crying. I've been having fun with my kids and laughter with friends but I still have a lot of healing to do.
There is so much that is still one big mess. And I'm sorry if everything seems so negative on my blog. I am genuinely sorry. This isn't me. I know I keep saying that but it isn't. I am a laugher, a smiler, and a helper. I know I am those things.
I know I used to be those things.
Am I still those things? Am I ever going to be the girl I thought I was?
Showing posts with label Alcoholism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alcoholism. Show all posts
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Addiction Tore Our Family Apart
Addiction has been a part of my family ever since I can remember. As a little girl, I would hear stories of my late grandfather who was an alcoholic and did some very hurtful things to my grandmother and my mother. I used to view him as the bad guy because I had no idea what addiction meant; I only knew addicts usually did horrible things to other people.
I've heard the stories of aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins who have had severe depression and how it "runs in our family" and when I was ten years old---yes, you read that right? TEN---I was medicated for depression without really knowing what I was taking. No one ever explained to me that my parents thought I was depressed. All I knew is that I played checkers with a funny guy every week (my therapist) and I started taking a medication every night to help me make better choices. I was 13 or 14 years old when I saw a commercial promoting Zoloft and realized that is the same drug I was taking. I was kind of hurt by it all because let me tell you, I was not a severely depressed 10 year old. I know what severe depression feels like and at the age of 10, I was not that. I was a 10 year old who wasn't getting enough love and attention and got accustomed to anger issues to act out and be noticed. Big difference, friends. Big difference.
I struggled with real addictions as a teenager but nobody took them seriously. Nobody. There was no one around to say, "Hey Wendy, you are killing yourself!" There was no one around to tell me all of the hard truths I needed to hear. You are damagaing your kidneys. You could have a heart attack. You could end up in a treatment center. You could end up dead. I wish I hadn't blocked out so much of my childhood because I like to tell the story of how I just stopped throwing up and starving and how it wasn't too much of a struggle but the truth is, I don't remember. I remember pain. I remember struggle. I don't remember what got me through it all.
Before getting married, I knew my 'then boyfriend' had an addiction to pain medication and to me, it wasn't a red flag because he didn't seek out the drugs. He was given them for an injury. He had me believing the "poor me" story he told. He had me believing a hell of a lot of things.
Seven years later and I'm learning more about addiction than ever before. Not only have I learned that addictions are scary and real, I've learned how much they can harm a family.
My family was ripped in two by addiction. My children will forever be affected because of addiction. Pornography addiction, alcoholism, drug addictions, and even my eating disorder; it's all real and it's all hurting them.
My ex-husband chose addictions over his family. Leaving was easier than facing us; the people who used to be his biggest cheerleaders. For years, he chose pornography or alcohol or drugs over us. He chose not to be present. He chose to manipulate me into believing that there was something wrong with me. He chose to treat me like I wasn't good enough for him. He chose to lie and cheat and degrade me. And then he made the ultimate decision to leave---at a time where I knew nothing about his addictions, not a single one of them. And it's taken 8 months for me to find out some truths and I'm sure more truths will surface in time but for 7 years, I had no idea I was living wit an addict.
I thought I was bad. I thought I must not be a good wife because my own husband couldn't see the potential in me.
He left and I chose an eating disorder to cope. I chose addictions. I hate that I chose to be like him in this way. I don't want to be like him. I don't want to ruin our family.
There is a difference for me now versus my eating disorder as a child. Now I have friends who tell me Im ruining my kidneys, who remind me I could die, who tell me heart attacks are real. Today, as I was holding my precious red headed boy and kissing him on the cheek, my friend said, "If you want to leave that boy for 75 days, keep it up." {Hello, fear of God, Meet Wendy!} and my heart started pounding because she is right. I don't want her to be right this time.
Because the reality is that a treatment center is a future step down the hell path I'm taking. A treatment center is an option I don't want to get to. I have one more counselor to try and if I can't get my crap under control, I'll check myself into a center---you know, on the off chance that I can convince myself this is that big of a deal because I fight with myself about whether it is bad or not.
I would sit here and stare you in the face and tell you that my eating disorder did not tear us apart though. I am not denying the issues. I am not trying to hide what is happening to my body and my brain. But I did not leave my family because of addiction.
As I was sitting on the couch across from Peter Pan on Monday and asking about his addictions and telling him he needed to get help, I asked him why he left. Why would addiction cause him to leave? Why wouldn't he try and confide in his WIFE? Why did he think he couldn't trust me? Or why didn't he want to trust me?
After learning of the pornography addiction, I wanted to scream at him, "WHY WASN'T I GOOD ENOUGH? WHAT DOES A PORN STAR HAVE THAT I DON'T HAVE?" but I didn't. I didn't yell or scream or even cry. I still haven't cried. I have been getting anxiety a lot in the past 2 days but no tears have fallen from my face.
His pornography addiction validated my feelings of inadequacy. Everyone tells me it isn't me. They tell me he would've looked at pornography no matter what I look like or how much I weigh but it is SO HARD to believe them. It is just so hard.
Yesterday was my worst day. I told myself all day that I didn't deserve food. I told myself all day that I wasn't good enough for food. The only thing I was good enough for is hunger. So be hungry, Wendy. Suffer these consequences you didn't place on your own head. Show the world that you can be better and prettier. Show Peter that you can be loveable and gorgeous. And at night, I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle the hunger so I ate. And when I ate, I couldn't handle food in my body and so I threw up. And it was the first time I felt like my body could not take what I was doing. I need to stop explaining right there because it's too much for me to be that real. Even anonymously, I can't be that real. But it was a horrible night.
Have I ever told you when and how I started my eating disorder addiction again after Peter left me? Because it wasn't right away. I'll share that story with you another time. It's a crappy one and you will get angry but that's ok. It's ok to be angry because people say stupid things. Even nice people say stupid things. {That story is now blogged about here.}
All I know today, this very minute, is that addiction is real. Pornography addiction is real. Alcohol addiction is real. They tore my family apart.
My family is now two families because of addiction. My family is forever changed because of addiction.
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