It was after reading this article that I finally made up my mind to tell my partner I did not want to see him again until he decided to stop drinking. Four months ago, I asked him to move out, because he had been using a private credit card to run up a debt in excess of $4000, mostly on alcohol. He would drink spirits in secret, hide bottles and pretend he didn’t know what I was talking about. I used to question myself relentlessly, wondering if I was going mad, being overly paranoid, etc. I should mention here that he is a highly functional alcoholic – if I didn’t see the train wreck he is in private, I would find it very hard to believe that he had a problem. He has a high position in the company where he works, and is very personable and likeable. I used to blame myself for his drinking but that was some time ago – yet I think I still blame myself for his bad moods and erratic behaviour that go with the drinking. I thought I could help him. I couldn’t bear the idea of something happening to him, so I tried for years to be compassionate and understanding. I would make doctor’s appointments for him, I sought advice from my counsellor (who would always be quite concerned and tell me I needed to look after myself first, that I couldn’t make an alcoholic give up alcohol), I would take him out into the country for walks to clear his head, I would try and make home as relaxing and restful as possible for him, I wrote him letters telling him how much his children and I loved him, I bought him things I thought would help him relax, books mostly, or a CD by a band he liked, and always I would give him information on CBT and mindfulness techniques and basically anything I thought might be of use to him. In return I received a lot of emotional abuse. Never physical, but the words hurt just as much. The credit card was the last straw; I’d asked him for months to get rid of it, but he said that he needed it because I was an unreliable person – he also said that he would not need to drink if he were not around me. We have two children; I’d been trying to keep the alcohol abuse away from them, but a credit card debt could’ve ruined us all, and I could see it spiralling out of control. He could spend thousands on alcohol and we simply wouldn’t know, and I thought he might be dead within a few years if he kept going like that. I asked him to leave after finding a stash of bottles and realising that I couldn’t keep making excuses for him. In one way it was a relief when he moved out, because I did not have to walk on eggshells any more, but at the same time I missed him terribly – at least, I missed the person he was when he was sober. I had very little support, because his family, some who have drinking problems themselves, have never believed me when I’ve tried to tell them about his alcoholism, and indeed continue to enable his behaviour by offering him a drink or giving him alcohol as a gift, etc. (I think I resent them far more than I do him – I think there’s no excuse for their wilful blindness.) Still, I was able to make a life for my boys and me, although we hadn’t much money and I was permanently tired because I had the kids full-time and also worked from home – I’d often work after the kids went to bed, so I wouldn’t get to sleep until late. Anyway, my partner spent two months on his own, drinking heavily – he was an absolute wreck. Finally he claimed to have seen the light – he said that he understood that I had been trying to help and support him for years, that he did have a drinking problem, and that he had deliberately treated me badly because he didn’t want to love me any more – I had made him face things he wasn’t ready to face, he said. So he gave up drinking and we started working on our relationship – only he didn’t really want to work on it. He was evasive about what treatment he was getting for his drinking and depression, and would turn on me if I asked questions about it. At some point, he resumed drinking again. I never saw him drunk but I could tell over the phone or I might simply receive a weird text or email from him. I was beginning to despise myself; I thought that our children would resent me when they were older and realised the situation. Basically, he still had access to us. He would come around for dinner. We would sleep together after the kids were in bed. I never asked anything of him. He would say that he wanted to come home, be a family with us again – but he would never say when. Instead, he would say that we still needed to work on things, then not explain what things or how to work on them. He had us, his family – but he also had his own house in which to drink, his own money bar $100 a week that I took for child support, and no responsibilities. I don’t know why I let things end up that way. I loved him very much… and I suppose I wanted to believe that he was trying to get well. I had always been advised against giving him an ultimatum, by various counsellors, but after I read your article I determined that I would do it. It was another week before I did, though – things had been going well, and I guess I was fooling myself into thinking he was going to be OK this time, because he’d just started footy training for the year (he’s an amateur footballer) and I knew that the physical exercise would help him feel better. (Any time he’s been able to keep sober for any length of time, it’s always been when he’s physically active. I think that it must help his moods a lot.) Anyway, today I dropped around his house with the kids – we’d gone to the sweet shop and picked him up something too. I didn’t expect him to be home; I thought he’d be at work. I was going to leave the sweets on the doorstep. He was home, though, and he was incredibly agitated to see us, probably because there were beer bottles in the kitchen – he would usually have any alcohol out of sight. I didn’t give a s*** about the beer bottles, really – I’d been accustomed to finding three or four empty vodka bottles in as many days, so I wasn’t shocked. But he behaved horribly to me – it was frightening how much anger and hatred was there. I’ve said that he would turn on me if I asked him questions about his treatment – this was similar, only more so. I had seen this sort of behaviour two or three times before, usually when he’d stopped his antidepressants abruptly. I took the kids and left, and later sent him a text message telling him that I cared about him very much, but that I did not want to see or speak to him until he decided to stop drinking and take control of his life. He said that he did not want to see me either. I was shaking when I got home, and only wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and not come out, but for some mad reason I instead got out about thirty metres of Christmas lights and spent the next two hours stringing them up out the front of the house. It somehow made me feel much better, stronger even, and the kids were thrilled with the sparkly lights. I don’t know why I’m not a crying wreck – usually I would be, but instead I just feel relieved that I’m off the rollercoaster. I love him very much but I have tried everything, for nearly eight years now… and if I could have helped him stop drinking, he would have stopped. I can’t change him, I know that now. I am sad and worried about how it’s going to be over Christmas, but all I can do is hug my kids a bit tighter and make things as happy for us as possible. And I’m going to order your book as well, because despite growing up with a father who had a drinking problem, I still don’t know how to live with an alcoholic partner. I know most of my friends don’t understand why I still love him so much, or they think I’m exaggerating his problems. I don’t know how to live and not worry about him all the time; I can’t remember the last time I relaxed. I’m often rundown and snap at the kids a lot. I hate to think of how they must see me, and I don’t want to be that person any more. Anyway, I’m so sorry for writing this thesis, when what I really wanted to do was thank you. Looking forward to reading your book too. 🙂
Dear Kate,
Thank you so much for telling me your story and apologies for not replying sooner. I have sent you an email as a proper reply and I do hope this was not inappropriate as it may be your work email. Let me know in case it went into spam. Very best wishes Anne
Kate
December 17, 2014 at 12:38 pmIt was after reading this article that I finally made up my mind to tell my partner I did not want to see him again until he decided to stop drinking. Four months ago, I asked him to move out, because he had been using a private credit card to run up a debt in excess of $4000, mostly on alcohol. He would drink spirits in secret, hide bottles and pretend he didn’t know what I was talking about. I used to question myself relentlessly, wondering if I was going mad, being overly paranoid, etc. I should mention here that he is a highly functional alcoholic – if I didn’t see the train wreck he is in private, I would find it very hard to believe that he had a problem. He has a high position in the company where he works, and is very personable and likeable. I used to blame myself for his drinking but that was some time ago – yet I think I still blame myself for his bad moods and erratic behaviour that go with the drinking. I thought I could help him. I couldn’t bear the idea of something happening to him, so I tried for years to be compassionate and understanding. I would make doctor’s appointments for him, I sought advice from my counsellor (who would always be quite concerned and tell me I needed to look after myself first, that I couldn’t make an alcoholic give up alcohol), I would take him out into the country for walks to clear his head, I would try and make home as relaxing and restful as possible for him, I wrote him letters telling him how much his children and I loved him, I bought him things I thought would help him relax, books mostly, or a CD by a band he liked, and always I would give him information on CBT and mindfulness techniques and basically anything I thought might be of use to him. In return I received a lot of emotional abuse. Never physical, but the words hurt just as much. The credit card was the last straw; I’d asked him for months to get rid of it, but he said that he needed it because I was an unreliable person – he also said that he would not need to drink if he were not around me. We have two children; I’d been trying to keep the alcohol abuse away from them, but a credit card debt could’ve ruined us all, and I could see it spiralling out of control. He could spend thousands on alcohol and we simply wouldn’t know, and I thought he might be dead within a few years if he kept going like that. I asked him to leave after finding a stash of bottles and realising that I couldn’t keep making excuses for him. In one way it was a relief when he moved out, because I did not have to walk on eggshells any more, but at the same time I missed him terribly – at least, I missed the person he was when he was sober. I had very little support, because his family, some who have drinking problems themselves, have never believed me when I’ve tried to tell them about his alcoholism, and indeed continue to enable his behaviour by offering him a drink or giving him alcohol as a gift, etc. (I think I resent them far more than I do him – I think there’s no excuse for their wilful blindness.) Still, I was able to make a life for my boys and me, although we hadn’t much money and I was permanently tired because I had the kids full-time and also worked from home – I’d often work after the kids went to bed, so I wouldn’t get to sleep until late. Anyway, my partner spent two months on his own, drinking heavily – he was an absolute wreck. Finally he claimed to have seen the light – he said that he understood that I had been trying to help and support him for years, that he did have a drinking problem, and that he had deliberately treated me badly because he didn’t want to love me any more – I had made him face things he wasn’t ready to face, he said. So he gave up drinking and we started working on our relationship – only he didn’t really want to work on it. He was evasive about what treatment he was getting for his drinking and depression, and would turn on me if I asked questions about it. At some point, he resumed drinking again. I never saw him drunk but I could tell over the phone or I might simply receive a weird text or email from him. I was beginning to despise myself; I thought that our children would resent me when they were older and realised the situation. Basically, he still had access to us. He would come around for dinner. We would sleep together after the kids were in bed. I never asked anything of him. He would say that he wanted to come home, be a family with us again – but he would never say when. Instead, he would say that we still needed to work on things, then not explain what things or how to work on them. He had us, his family – but he also had his own house in which to drink, his own money bar $100 a week that I took for child support, and no responsibilities. I don’t know why I let things end up that way. I loved him very much… and I suppose I wanted to believe that he was trying to get well. I had always been advised against giving him an ultimatum, by various counsellors, but after I read your article I determined that I would do it. It was another week before I did, though – things had been going well, and I guess I was fooling myself into thinking he was going to be OK this time, because he’d just started footy training for the year (he’s an amateur footballer) and I knew that the physical exercise would help him feel better. (Any time he’s been able to keep sober for any length of time, it’s always been when he’s physically active. I think that it must help his moods a lot.) Anyway, today I dropped around his house with the kids – we’d gone to the sweet shop and picked him up something too. I didn’t expect him to be home; I thought he’d be at work. I was going to leave the sweets on the doorstep. He was home, though, and he was incredibly agitated to see us, probably because there were beer bottles in the kitchen – he would usually have any alcohol out of sight. I didn’t give a s*** about the beer bottles, really – I’d been accustomed to finding three or four empty vodka bottles in as many days, so I wasn’t shocked. But he behaved horribly to me – it was frightening how much anger and hatred was there. I’ve said that he would turn on me if I asked him questions about his treatment – this was similar, only more so. I had seen this sort of behaviour two or three times before, usually when he’d stopped his antidepressants abruptly. I took the kids and left, and later sent him a text message telling him that I cared about him very much, but that I did not want to see or speak to him until he decided to stop drinking and take control of his life. He said that he did not want to see me either. I was shaking when I got home, and only wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and not come out, but for some mad reason I instead got out about thirty metres of Christmas lights and spent the next two hours stringing them up out the front of the house. It somehow made me feel much better, stronger even, and the kids were thrilled with the sparkly lights. I don’t know why I’m not a crying wreck – usually I would be, but instead I just feel relieved that I’m off the rollercoaster. I love him very much but I have tried everything, for nearly eight years now… and if I could have helped him stop drinking, he would have stopped. I can’t change him, I know that now. I am sad and worried about how it’s going to be over Christmas, but all I can do is hug my kids a bit tighter and make things as happy for us as possible. And I’m going to order your book as well, because despite growing up with a father who had a drinking problem, I still don’t know how to live with an alcoholic partner. I know most of my friends don’t understand why I still love him so much, or they think I’m exaggerating his problems. I don’t know how to live and not worry about him all the time; I can’t remember the last time I relaxed. I’m often rundown and snap at the kids a lot. I hate to think of how they must see me, and I don’t want to be that person any more. Anyway, I’m so sorry for writing this thesis, when what I really wanted to do was thank you. Looking forward to reading your book too. 🙂
amorshead
December 23, 2014 at 12:41 pmDear Kate,
Thank you so much for telling me your story and apologies for not replying sooner. I have sent you an email as a proper reply and I do hope this was not inappropriate as it may be your work email. Let me know in case it went into spam. Very best wishes Anne