If anything should happen to me anytime soon, I want the world to know: I DIDN'T PROVOKE THIS!
I didn't ask to care for him. It happened. It happened over many years. Call it destiny, but still, it's not the way I expected things to end. I had a premonition, so I write to let someone know that just in case something happens, there is a history, a paper trail, something to make sense of the senseless.
Because this would be senseless. People break up every day, all the time. They break up and life goes on. Only sometimes to things go terribly wrong and people die. That's my premonition. That I'm a goner. That he's so far beyond help that I'll be going with him.
I don't want to die. But if I do, I want the world to know a few things. I want the world to remember me not as a victim, but as someone who lived life fully, deeply, intensely. Someone who wasn't afraid to take risks. Someone who went out the extra mile to live, love and laugh. Enjoy every sunset.
I want you all to remember me every time you see the ocean, feel the breeze. Hear a Bach sonata, every note screams my name. Every time you dance or hear a mambo, I'm there. Every time a plane touches down in a foreign country and you get the first whiff of heat, humidity and the local smells, I'm there. Every time you read a good book, see a great ballet, or eat a meal worth dying for, I'm there. Because I did all these things with gusto. With joy. Everytime like it was the last. And maybe it was.
Scatter me at sunset over the ocean. Make sure there's a breeze, so I go all over the place. Don"t shed a tear, laugh and dance. Play some Bach. I might be gone, but I'm watching over you all. Even if I didn't like you.
Don't blame the perp. He was sick. Nobody could save him. I thought I could, but I reconsidered and tried to get away. If he did what he did, it was destiny, nothing else. Our paths were brought together like that. In the end no one could have saved us
I don't have a death wish. I have a premonition that I'm going. I have ample warning he might be coming after me. I am prepared. I just know that if it's my time, no one can save me. I've lived my life fully and without regrets. I'm only sorry for the poeple I leave behind. My baby. My Bumby. My friends, my family. My community. They will suffer and think it senseless. But life is a part of death, we're closer every day we live.
I love you all. You know who you are. You've provided me with love, friendship, companionship, everything a person could ever want in a lifetime. I can honestly say it has been a great journey, the good times and the bad, but in the end, I don't hate anyone, even the ones who hurt me. I forgive, even if it takes me a little time. I move on. I find joy in other places, other things, other people, in myself.
Don't think of this as a tragedy. I'm free. I'll be the angel looking over you.
RECIPE FOR TRAGEDY
1. Be depressed.
2. Expect everyone else to resolve your problems. And then be angry when they won't, can't, or just let you be because that is easier than dealing with you
3, Self-medicate with all the wrong substances.
4. Not be able to handle any stress or frustration, no matter how small.
5. Refuse any type of professional help.
6. Think of dying a lot. Or think of dying because for once, you can say you WERE happy. With me. Until you screwed it up again.
7. Always take the easy way out.
I'm resigned to losing you. I can't help you. I can't be witness to your self destruction. I'm going to get that phone call one day telling me you're gone and I'll kick myself, blame myself, but realize that you're going to do this to yourself. I didn't do this to you.
You're going to do this to yourself and your friends are going to grieve the loss of a wonderful person, a caring soul, an intelligent man, a good father. But we couldn't help you. Because you didn't want our help. Because you couldn't ask for help. Because you couldn't help yourself.
Because in the end you were going to do whatever you wanted, no matter what the consequences were to yourself or anyone else.
Selfish.
What a waste.
2. Expect everyone else to resolve your problems. And then be angry when they won't, can't, or just let you be because that is easier than dealing with you
3, Self-medicate with all the wrong substances.
4. Not be able to handle any stress or frustration, no matter how small.
5. Refuse any type of professional help.
6. Think of dying a lot. Or think of dying because for once, you can say you WERE happy. With me. Until you screwed it up again.
7. Always take the easy way out.
I'm resigned to losing you. I can't help you. I can't be witness to your self destruction. I'm going to get that phone call one day telling me you're gone and I'll kick myself, blame myself, but realize that you're going to do this to yourself. I didn't do this to you.
You're going to do this to yourself and your friends are going to grieve the loss of a wonderful person, a caring soul, an intelligent man, a good father. But we couldn't help you. Because you didn't want our help. Because you couldn't ask for help. Because you couldn't help yourself.
Because in the end you were going to do whatever you wanted, no matter what the consequences were to yourself or anyone else.
Selfish.
What a waste.
The Phone call I don't want to answer
Signs and symptoms of the depressive phase of bipolar disorder include persistent feelings of sadness, anxiety, guilt, anger, isolation, or hopelessness; disturbances in sleep and appetite; fatigue and loss of interest in usually enjoyable activities; problems concentrating; loneliness, self-loathing, apathy or indifference; depersonalization; loss of interest in sexual activity; shyness or social anxiety; irritability, chronic pain (with or without a known cause); lack of motivation; and morbid suicidal ideation
Mania is generally characterized by a distinct period of an elevated, expansive, or irritable mood state. People commonly experience an increase in energy and a decreased need for sleep. A person's speech may be pressured, with thoughts experienced as racing. Attention span is low and a person in a manic state may be easily distracted. Judgment may become impaired; sufferers may go on spending sprees or engage in behavior that is quite abnormal for them. They may indulge in substance abuse, particularly alcohol or other depressants, cocaine or other stimulants, or sleeping pills. Their behavior may become aggressive, intolerant or intrusive. People may feel out of control or unstoppable. People may feel they have been "chosen," are "on a special mission," or other grandiose or delusional ideas. Sexual drive may increase. At more extreme phases of bipolar I, a person in a manic state can begin to experience psychosis, or a break with reality, where thinking is affected along with mood. Many people in a manic state experience severe anxiety and are very irritable (to the point of rage), while others are euphoric and grandiose.
I think you're cycling. Faster and faster. I'm scared for you. Up and down, up and down at a dizzying speed. With flight of ideas, grandiosity, and all those other things that make the mania come alive. I'm afraid of the crash. I'm afraid of what you may do. I'm afraid of losing you. I'm afraid that this world will lose you over a mountain of beans which you will find overwhelmingly difficult to climb.
I'm afraid. I'm angry. I want to help. You push me away. I get angry. I get scared. I'm afraid of that phone call, unexpected in the middle of the day that informs me that they found your body. I'm INVOLVED, whether I'm in or out of the picture. If I'm IN, I am a witness to your destruction. If I'm OUT, blame will be assigned. Mainly by me.
I can't help you. You need help beyond my capabilities. I try to be there for you but you push me away. Sometimes I think I'm the only one listening to you. The only one who cares about you. But you don't make the job easy. You make it as hard as possible for anyone to like you, much less love you.
Please don't self-destruct. Don't paint yourself into a corner. Your problems aren't all that big that they can't be resolved with time. Don't do this to yourself, to your family, to your son. Don't check out. You are not a failure. You just need to see that you need help beyond what we can offer you. You need to be healthy inside before you can be happy.
You seem resigned to die at an early age. I can't accept that, but I can't stop you either. Because it's bigger than both of us.
So, I wait for the phone call with the awful news.
Mania is generally characterized by a distinct period of an elevated, expansive, or irritable mood state. People commonly experience an increase in energy and a decreased need for sleep. A person's speech may be pressured, with thoughts experienced as racing. Attention span is low and a person in a manic state may be easily distracted. Judgment may become impaired; sufferers may go on spending sprees or engage in behavior that is quite abnormal for them. They may indulge in substance abuse, particularly alcohol or other depressants, cocaine or other stimulants, or sleeping pills. Their behavior may become aggressive, intolerant or intrusive. People may feel out of control or unstoppable. People may feel they have been "chosen," are "on a special mission," or other grandiose or delusional ideas. Sexual drive may increase. At more extreme phases of bipolar I, a person in a manic state can begin to experience psychosis, or a break with reality, where thinking is affected along with mood. Many people in a manic state experience severe anxiety and are very irritable (to the point of rage), while others are euphoric and grandiose.
I think you're cycling. Faster and faster. I'm scared for you. Up and down, up and down at a dizzying speed. With flight of ideas, grandiosity, and all those other things that make the mania come alive. I'm afraid of the crash. I'm afraid of what you may do. I'm afraid of losing you. I'm afraid that this world will lose you over a mountain of beans which you will find overwhelmingly difficult to climb.
I'm afraid. I'm angry. I want to help. You push me away. I get angry. I get scared. I'm afraid of that phone call, unexpected in the middle of the day that informs me that they found your body. I'm INVOLVED, whether I'm in or out of the picture. If I'm IN, I am a witness to your destruction. If I'm OUT, blame will be assigned. Mainly by me.
I can't help you. You need help beyond my capabilities. I try to be there for you but you push me away. Sometimes I think I'm the only one listening to you. The only one who cares about you. But you don't make the job easy. You make it as hard as possible for anyone to like you, much less love you.
Please don't self-destruct. Don't paint yourself into a corner. Your problems aren't all that big that they can't be resolved with time. Don't do this to yourself, to your family, to your son. Don't check out. You are not a failure. You just need to see that you need help beyond what we can offer you. You need to be healthy inside before you can be happy.
You seem resigned to die at an early age. I can't accept that, but I can't stop you either. Because it's bigger than both of us.
So, I wait for the phone call with the awful news.
I've been waiting for your arrival all weekend.
You've been announcing your arrival all weekend.
I'm still waiting. I'm disappointed. The festivities have gone on without you, since you've told me your stuff is in the car and you're coming RIGHT over-that was 2 days ago.
You missed it. My friends from out of town had fun. So did I. We ate, went to the beach, cooked up a storm and engaged in wonderful conversation. All you could do was call and alternately complain about where you were, how busy you were, how much money you were going to make-eventually, and complain I wasn't there with you.
No. I'm not there with you. Because I have no place there. This is my home. My place is here.
So you bitch and moan. And you continue to be arriving "soon".
My life goes on without you.
You've been announcing your arrival all weekend.
I'm still waiting. I'm disappointed. The festivities have gone on without you, since you've told me your stuff is in the car and you're coming RIGHT over-that was 2 days ago.
You missed it. My friends from out of town had fun. So did I. We ate, went to the beach, cooked up a storm and engaged in wonderful conversation. All you could do was call and alternately complain about where you were, how busy you were, how much money you were going to make-eventually, and complain I wasn't there with you.
No. I'm not there with you. Because I have no place there. This is my home. My place is here.
So you bitch and moan. And you continue to be arriving "soon".
My life goes on without you.
They wrote it for you......
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
You been out ridin' fences for so long now.
Oh, you're a hard one,
But I know that you've got your reasons.
These things that are pleasin' you,
Can hurt you somehow.
Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy,
She'll beat you if she's able.
Know the queen of hearts is always your best bet.
Now it seems to me, some fine things,
Have been laid upon your table.
But you only want the things that you can't get.
Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger:
Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home.
And freedom, oh freedom,
Well, that's just some people talkin'
Your prison is walking,
Through this world all alone.
And don't your feet get cold in the winter time?
The sky won't snow, the sun won't shine
It's hard to tell the night time from the day
You're loosin' all your highs and lows
Ain't it funny how the feeling,
Goes away?
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, and open the gate
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you,
You better let somebody love you,
You better let somebody love you,
You better let somebody love you,
Before it's too late.
"Fuck off......it's over between us"
"Fuck off......it's over between us"
HB 8/24/09
Your words. Your wishes. I comply. The time has come to disengage.
I'm slowly becoming an expert over the years at leaving you. At retreating. At loving you from afar. Because it doesn't work when we're together. Can't live with you, can't live without you. With you we all self-destruct. Without you, it's a pit of never-ending sadness. But at least I'm still standing.
Why does it have to be like this? Why can't I forgive your faults? Because they're too big to ignore. Because I can't live on the anger merry-go -round, no matter how much you say you love me. No matter how much you say you need me. And need me, yes, I've suddenly become the last life preserver. The one rescuing the drowning man, only the man feels the need to drown the rescuer also. Is this what you want for the person you say you love?
You push me away. You push everyone away. Where are your friends? Where is your family? According to you, conspiring against you. Marginalizing you. Have you ever given it serious thought that YOU led them to this behavior? That YOU are responsible for the fact that everyone gives you a very WIDE berth? All I ever tried to do was love you. Lead you down a different path. Guide you. Not change you. Make you realize that some of your behaviors are self-destructive.
And the thanks I get is "Fuck off" "It's over....."
Thanks for making my decision very clear and necessary.
I saved up your voice messages, the ones where you screamed at me and said horrible things. Things that you knew about me in intimacy. Things that now you bring up and drag out to be used against me. To me, that's so low and disrespectful. But you're always crowing about how in a relationship you can't afford disrespect. Listen to your own advice, boyfriend. Feeling hurt does not give you the right to such lack of respect towards me or anyone else. I'd like you to listen to yourself rant and then come to your own conclusions. Maybe understand WHY I can't stay with you, despite the fact that I love you. Yeah, get it through your thick skull. I LOVE YOU. I just find it impossible to deal with you, to live with you, to put up with your destructive, toxic behavior.
I'm dreading seeing you again. Because I don't want to fight. Because I don't want you screaming at me again. Because I realize I won't get a word in anyway. It's all about what YOU feel, how YOU have been hurt, how YOU can't trust me, how YOU turn everything around. I have my faults and I am the first to acknowledge them. I have a bad temper, but it takes me EONS to explode. You explode for no reason. You don't handle any stress or frustration well. And I am a strong enough person where I will not be anyone's patsy or doormat, especially when you lash out at me for no reason or for some supposed slight. I will NOT be quiet. I will NOT be ill-treated. I will NOT tolerate this any longer.
Why do I write? Because you don't let me talk. Because I can't get my point across. Because you get mad, interrupt me, don't let me finish my sentence, don't want to listen to me. Because your life is one-sided: and only what YOU say and YOU think carries any weight.
Get a dog, my love. At least he'll love you unconditionally, not answer back, always be at fault and you can kick him when you're angry at him. Perfect solution.
Because I'm not a pet. I'm a human with very real feelings. And you won't treat me badly again. I can guarantee you that.
HB 8/24/09
Your words. Your wishes. I comply. The time has come to disengage.
I'm slowly becoming an expert over the years at leaving you. At retreating. At loving you from afar. Because it doesn't work when we're together. Can't live with you, can't live without you. With you we all self-destruct. Without you, it's a pit of never-ending sadness. But at least I'm still standing.
Why does it have to be like this? Why can't I forgive your faults? Because they're too big to ignore. Because I can't live on the anger merry-go -round, no matter how much you say you love me. No matter how much you say you need me. And need me, yes, I've suddenly become the last life preserver. The one rescuing the drowning man, only the man feels the need to drown the rescuer also. Is this what you want for the person you say you love?
You push me away. You push everyone away. Where are your friends? Where is your family? According to you, conspiring against you. Marginalizing you. Have you ever given it serious thought that YOU led them to this behavior? That YOU are responsible for the fact that everyone gives you a very WIDE berth? All I ever tried to do was love you. Lead you down a different path. Guide you. Not change you. Make you realize that some of your behaviors are self-destructive.
And the thanks I get is "Fuck off" "It's over....."
Thanks for making my decision very clear and necessary.
I saved up your voice messages, the ones where you screamed at me and said horrible things. Things that you knew about me in intimacy. Things that now you bring up and drag out to be used against me. To me, that's so low and disrespectful. But you're always crowing about how in a relationship you can't afford disrespect. Listen to your own advice, boyfriend. Feeling hurt does not give you the right to such lack of respect towards me or anyone else. I'd like you to listen to yourself rant and then come to your own conclusions. Maybe understand WHY I can't stay with you, despite the fact that I love you. Yeah, get it through your thick skull. I LOVE YOU. I just find it impossible to deal with you, to live with you, to put up with your destructive, toxic behavior.
I'm dreading seeing you again. Because I don't want to fight. Because I don't want you screaming at me again. Because I realize I won't get a word in anyway. It's all about what YOU feel, how YOU have been hurt, how YOU can't trust me, how YOU turn everything around. I have my faults and I am the first to acknowledge them. I have a bad temper, but it takes me EONS to explode. You explode for no reason. You don't handle any stress or frustration well. And I am a strong enough person where I will not be anyone's patsy or doormat, especially when you lash out at me for no reason or for some supposed slight. I will NOT be quiet. I will NOT be ill-treated. I will NOT tolerate this any longer.
Why do I write? Because you don't let me talk. Because I can't get my point across. Because you get mad, interrupt me, don't let me finish my sentence, don't want to listen to me. Because your life is one-sided: and only what YOU say and YOU think carries any weight.
Get a dog, my love. At least he'll love you unconditionally, not answer back, always be at fault and you can kick him when you're angry at him. Perfect solution.
Because I'm not a pet. I'm a human with very real feelings. And you won't treat me badly again. I can guarantee you that.
THE HB VIRUS
I've always loved you.
I loved you from the moment I met you so many years ago. We were both married, unhappily. We circled each other, flirted, but that was it. We caught each other's eye. We circled each other like hungry animals, trying to stay within the shadows of the forest so that no one would get spooked. We did that little dance for awhile.
Then came a time when we were both free. We finally got together and it was magic. It was everything that I thought it would be. But I spook easily. And that instant intimacy that we developed spooked me to no end. I ran. Hard and far. Into someone else's waiting trap. But the virus was inside me. That damned HB virus that would live and reproduce in my for a long time. That I wouldn't be able to shake. That I still haven't shaken. That still consumes me in spite of the fact that you will destroy yourself and take me down with you in the process.
I wanted you more than I wanted anything else. So the moment I was free, I looked for you. And there you were. Ready to pick up where we left off. It was so easy. Too easy. It was going so well. Until fate stepped in and threw a wild card on the table.
Your ex-girlfriend was pregnant. She wanted the baby. She didn't want you. You wanted the baby. You wanted the perfect family portrait. There was no place for me. I retreated gracefully. I loved you, but there was no place for me.
I wish you could have seen the storm coming. Everybody saw it coming. It was a storm that irreparably changed your life. You're still feeling the fallout. You're still under the effects of how bad things went. I doubt you'll ever truly get over it because on top of all the punishment you took, you still continue to punish yourself for it. As you say, you're judge, jury and executioner. And you show yourself no mercy.
Yet we were connected. I knew when you were going through rough times. I knew when you were down. I constantly thought of you, knowing that although I was far away, someday we'd be able to sit at the same table and talk again. We had always been friends, even through the worst of times. That never changed. I hope it doesn't change now. I kept in touch only enough for you to know I was still alive and well and thinking of you, if only on your birthday and Christmas. I knew you'd be able to find me if you so desired. I didn't hear from you. It was ok, at least you were alive, and I hoped, happily living your life.
Until my stormy time came. I needed a friend. I needed to reach out to someone who knew me when I was strong, when I didn't feel so defeated. I reached out. I couldn't get to you. I reached out again. I found you. I reached out again. I brought us back together.
You can never imagine the feeling of complete and utter awe and shock at having you come into my life again. But this time it's different. This time you mean it. This time you feel like I've always felt, since the first time I caught the HB virus. You consume me, my life, my time, my essence, my energy. And although I know I'm being bled like a vampire's victim, I am powerless to stop you while you're at my side. You lift me to the heavens, although I'm falling in a great abyss. Your love ruins me and leaves me powerless. It envelopes me and spins me into the tornado you call your life. Yet despite the turbulence, in the quiet times, all I want to do is love you, hold you and tell you that you're going to be ok. That someone loves you and cares for you. That I won't let anything happen to you, despite the fact that it's an impossible task to take care of someone that's hell-bent on self-destruction.
I want to hold the little boy and love all his hurt away. But the little boy lashes back in anger and in pain. He wants a future together, but his present is drowning him and he refuses to swim. He wants it ALL and he wants it NOW but without working for it, sacrificing for it, building a foundation for it. And when things go wrong, he lashes out at the one who loves him the most. No one cares if he's ok, if he ate, if he's depressed, if he's alive or dead, and he's partly to blame for that. He's driven everyone away, like he's trying to drive me away. He lashes out, spewing anger like acid that burns everything it touches. He does horrible things to himself, and then beats himself up for doing it. He's masterful at denial, and fast to cut the conversation if he doesn't like what you're telling him.
He's driving me away. He's trying to tell me he isn't worthy of love. He's going to succeed one day. Because besides himself, he only hurts the ones he loves.
I love him. I want to make him happy. I don't know if anything will make him happy. I don't know if he'll ever be happy, either with me or anyone else.
I just know that I'm afraid I won't be strong enough to stay. Or strong enough to leave. Or he'll commit the ultimate act of self-destruction before my eyes and I'll have to be a witness to it, helpless, just watching it happen. How do you watch someone you love slowly kill themselves? How do you make someone you love watch it while it happens?
You call me indecisive. I just don't know that I want to see you go down. I don't want to see you crash and burn. That would be a horrible waste. You're so intelligent. You're such a good man. You're just so self-destructive that it's painful to watch. When you're happy, you're walking on air. The excitement you exude fills the atmosphere. But when you go down, watch out. Everyone reeks after being around you. You're absolutely toxic in your dealings with others. Toxic and self-defeating. And it's all of your own making.
I've seen you at your best. In the still of the night, next to you, feeling your warmth, I've sensed and seen the best of you. I want to see that again. The memory of your best moments keeps me here with you throughout your worst moments. But you need to realize, I don't want to make a choice between your sanity and mine. I want you in my life. But you need to be alright first. I own my problems and I take care of them. You need to do the same. For your happiness.
For our future.
For the love we've found after so long
For the plans we hope to make together
For the partnership.
For you
For yourself. Don't do it for me.
I loved you from the moment I met you so many years ago. We were both married, unhappily. We circled each other, flirted, but that was it. We caught each other's eye. We circled each other like hungry animals, trying to stay within the shadows of the forest so that no one would get spooked. We did that little dance for awhile.
Then came a time when we were both free. We finally got together and it was magic. It was everything that I thought it would be. But I spook easily. And that instant intimacy that we developed spooked me to no end. I ran. Hard and far. Into someone else's waiting trap. But the virus was inside me. That damned HB virus that would live and reproduce in my for a long time. That I wouldn't be able to shake. That I still haven't shaken. That still consumes me in spite of the fact that you will destroy yourself and take me down with you in the process.
I wanted you more than I wanted anything else. So the moment I was free, I looked for you. And there you were. Ready to pick up where we left off. It was so easy. Too easy. It was going so well. Until fate stepped in and threw a wild card on the table.
Your ex-girlfriend was pregnant. She wanted the baby. She didn't want you. You wanted the baby. You wanted the perfect family portrait. There was no place for me. I retreated gracefully. I loved you, but there was no place for me.
I wish you could have seen the storm coming. Everybody saw it coming. It was a storm that irreparably changed your life. You're still feeling the fallout. You're still under the effects of how bad things went. I doubt you'll ever truly get over it because on top of all the punishment you took, you still continue to punish yourself for it. As you say, you're judge, jury and executioner. And you show yourself no mercy.
Yet we were connected. I knew when you were going through rough times. I knew when you were down. I constantly thought of you, knowing that although I was far away, someday we'd be able to sit at the same table and talk again. We had always been friends, even through the worst of times. That never changed. I hope it doesn't change now. I kept in touch only enough for you to know I was still alive and well and thinking of you, if only on your birthday and Christmas. I knew you'd be able to find me if you so desired. I didn't hear from you. It was ok, at least you were alive, and I hoped, happily living your life.
Until my stormy time came. I needed a friend. I needed to reach out to someone who knew me when I was strong, when I didn't feel so defeated. I reached out. I couldn't get to you. I reached out again. I found you. I reached out again. I brought us back together.
You can never imagine the feeling of complete and utter awe and shock at having you come into my life again. But this time it's different. This time you mean it. This time you feel like I've always felt, since the first time I caught the HB virus. You consume me, my life, my time, my essence, my energy. And although I know I'm being bled like a vampire's victim, I am powerless to stop you while you're at my side. You lift me to the heavens, although I'm falling in a great abyss. Your love ruins me and leaves me powerless. It envelopes me and spins me into the tornado you call your life. Yet despite the turbulence, in the quiet times, all I want to do is love you, hold you and tell you that you're going to be ok. That someone loves you and cares for you. That I won't let anything happen to you, despite the fact that it's an impossible task to take care of someone that's hell-bent on self-destruction.
I want to hold the little boy and love all his hurt away. But the little boy lashes back in anger and in pain. He wants a future together, but his present is drowning him and he refuses to swim. He wants it ALL and he wants it NOW but without working for it, sacrificing for it, building a foundation for it. And when things go wrong, he lashes out at the one who loves him the most. No one cares if he's ok, if he ate, if he's depressed, if he's alive or dead, and he's partly to blame for that. He's driven everyone away, like he's trying to drive me away. He lashes out, spewing anger like acid that burns everything it touches. He does horrible things to himself, and then beats himself up for doing it. He's masterful at denial, and fast to cut the conversation if he doesn't like what you're telling him.
He's driving me away. He's trying to tell me he isn't worthy of love. He's going to succeed one day. Because besides himself, he only hurts the ones he loves.
I love him. I want to make him happy. I don't know if anything will make him happy. I don't know if he'll ever be happy, either with me or anyone else.
I just know that I'm afraid I won't be strong enough to stay. Or strong enough to leave. Or he'll commit the ultimate act of self-destruction before my eyes and I'll have to be a witness to it, helpless, just watching it happen. How do you watch someone you love slowly kill themselves? How do you make someone you love watch it while it happens?
You call me indecisive. I just don't know that I want to see you go down. I don't want to see you crash and burn. That would be a horrible waste. You're so intelligent. You're such a good man. You're just so self-destructive that it's painful to watch. When you're happy, you're walking on air. The excitement you exude fills the atmosphere. But when you go down, watch out. Everyone reeks after being around you. You're absolutely toxic in your dealings with others. Toxic and self-defeating. And it's all of your own making.
I've seen you at your best. In the still of the night, next to you, feeling your warmth, I've sensed and seen the best of you. I want to see that again. The memory of your best moments keeps me here with you throughout your worst moments. But you need to realize, I don't want to make a choice between your sanity and mine. I want you in my life. But you need to be alright first. I own my problems and I take care of them. You need to do the same. For your happiness.
For our future.
For the love we've found after so long
For the plans we hope to make together
For the partnership.
For you
For yourself. Don't do it for me.
Classic progression
The alcoholic's world grows smaller every day. But you can substitute the word "alcoholic" for any addiction. Cocaine, gambling, sex, drugs, pornography, EBay. It's all the same. Eventually leading to this:
So here it is in a nutshell: People leave alcoholics. That's what happens. Alcoholics get left. They get left in bars. They get left on the side of the road. People tire of alcoholics. They wear out their welcomes. They grate. Invitations are not extended. Their subscriptions lapse. It's like, not your fault. It's a natural law. It's not even personal. You can tell him that. You can tell him that it's no hard feelings, it's the nature of the thing.
It's a classic progression. The alcoholic starts out with stuff, things, people, family, job, network, a whole world. One by one they get snipped off. Things and people disconnect. The alcoholic's world shrinks.
But he doesn't know that yet.
He may feel surprised and indignant when those around him first begin to get tough on him. Your leaving, or your visit to Al-Anon, and your putting up of serious boundaries, may be his first inkling that he's sliding down the mountain. Or maybe what happens first is the bar at the golf course becomes less friendly and eventually there is an incident and word reaches him that he's not welcome there anymore. Places he used to go, they say, well, he's not really all that welcome anymore. We kind of got tired of him. The trouble he brings. It's just not worth it.
And so it goes.
The main point is the simplicity and clarity of it: If he's an alcoholic, this is the way it's going to be. And he might not agree that he's an alcoholic. You might be the only who who says it. It doesn't matter. Call it anything you want. Call it chronic unfitness. Call it mental cruelty. What's important is that you are true to yourself now, and that you trust your own reactions. And you recognize that, if indeed it is about alcohol, most likely it's just going to get much worse before it starts getting any better. So you might as well plan now to get out, or, if not to get out, to at least radically shift the terms on which you live with him.
So here it is in a nutshell: People leave alcoholics. That's what happens. Alcoholics get left. They get left in bars. They get left on the side of the road. People tire of alcoholics. They wear out their welcomes. They grate. Invitations are not extended. Their subscriptions lapse. It's like, not your fault. It's a natural law. It's not even personal. You can tell him that. You can tell him that it's no hard feelings, it's the nature of the thing.
It's a classic progression. The alcoholic starts out with stuff, things, people, family, job, network, a whole world. One by one they get snipped off. Things and people disconnect. The alcoholic's world shrinks.
But he doesn't know that yet.
He may feel surprised and indignant when those around him first begin to get tough on him. Your leaving, or your visit to Al-Anon, and your putting up of serious boundaries, may be his first inkling that he's sliding down the mountain. Or maybe what happens first is the bar at the golf course becomes less friendly and eventually there is an incident and word reaches him that he's not welcome there anymore. Places he used to go, they say, well, he's not really all that welcome anymore. We kind of got tired of him. The trouble he brings. It's just not worth it.
And so it goes.
The main point is the simplicity and clarity of it: If he's an alcoholic, this is the way it's going to be. And he might not agree that he's an alcoholic. You might be the only who who says it. It doesn't matter. Call it anything you want. Call it chronic unfitness. Call it mental cruelty. What's important is that you are true to yourself now, and that you trust your own reactions. And you recognize that, if indeed it is about alcohol, most likely it's just going to get much worse before it starts getting any better. So you might as well plan now to get out, or, if not to get out, to at least radically shift the terms on which you live with him.
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