Sifting through the shock, emotion, and numbness has been hard.
It took months to not be knocked over fresh every time I remembered the lies Chris had been living, the actions that now made sense, the horrible choices he made, and the destruction he has brought to our life.
And it wasn’t until after his 90-day sober chip arrived on my desk silently one morning that I realized how absolutely lonely this whole thing.
Being married to an addict is so so lonely.
The one person who is supposed to be your support when life hits the fan is the person who is actually causing all the pain and suffering. The person you’re supposed to trust, respect, and rely on more than anyone else is the exact opposite of those traits.
Being married to an addict is lonely.
I’m not lacking people. That’s not what is lonely. I have friends. I have family. I have social engagements, parties, dinners, invitations. I have texts to respond to, emails to read, phone calls to return.
But my existence right now is still very isolating.
I am surrounded by people and noise, but I am alone.
This would be the part–if I were a shiny Christian–where I would insert encouraging scriptures and promises from God. This would be the part of my story where I find solace and completeness and comfort in my Creator.
That would be such a sweet story change.
But I’m not a shiny Christian. I’m more of a sharp-edges, mostly black-and-blue, covered-in-bruises Jesus follower. I believe with my whole heart the scripture and promise parts, but DAMN IT, TAKE THIS AWAY PLEASE.
I would just like a break, and I’m pretty angry that I can’t get one.
When Chris went through rehab seven years ago, one night a week was family night. The addict’s kids, spouse, parents, or significant other would sit in a circle with the group and we’d do group family counseling. I refused to talk because I’m an introvert and also because I was insanely angry at every person in that room.
As they told stories, answered questions, and shared encouragement, all I could scream in my head was, “SO YOU KNEW YOU WERE LIVING WITH AN ADDICT?! GOOD FOR YOU.”
Because I didn’t and that felt worse than the addiction part. The betrayal is the worst part. Every single time. I was betrayed and betrayed and betrayed.
In one of the first few appointments with my new counselor, I tried to explain the humiliation and shame I felt in not realizing what Chris was doing all these years. Why couldn’t I put all the pieces together? Why couldn’t I connect the dots of slurred speech, erratic driving, and inability to recall conversations? What was wrong with me? How dumb was I? How dumb am I?
I’d already had this conversation with multiple friends who had tried to convince me it wasn’t my fault, and I hadn’t done anything wrong. They too were there–moments that sometimes felt off, conversations that didn’t make complete sense–and didn’t realize it either. But for them it was just a moment here and there, for me it was enough to be on high-alert all the time but I never put all the puzzle pieces together.
I was just so so dumb.
When I shared this with my counselor, she said that somewhere in my subconscious I probably knew. The answer was probably inside somewhere but my brain–which is made to protect me–wouldn’t ever let me process through it all and come to a logical conclusion. My brain was literally keeping me from the truth because its job is to keep me safe. These dangerous thoughts, the chaos that would have ensued, the destruction to my world was being put off because my brain’s purpose is to keep me safe.
I can’t even trust my brain.
Is this what crazy feels like? I can’t even rely on my own thoughts and reasoning because they fail me.
That’s why I feel so alone. That’s why it’s so lonely here. I can’t trust my husband. I can’t trust my brain. I can’t trust the things my eyes see because what if my brain isn’t letting me see all the parts?
Being married to an addict is lonely.
Being married to a liar is lonely.
You trusted Chris and that’s why you couldn’t believe it.
Prayers and hugs
Lots of prayers.and hugs,.I to was married to a alcoholic I love him dearly excel for his drinking!I wll pray !
is it possible to focus on the tiniest of things like an embrace, a kind word from him, looking into his eyes? I have a friend that is an addict, and I focus on the simplest of pleasures with her, because although im worried sick about her relapses, I love her with all my heart, and focus enjoying the little things because thats all there is sometimes. I can understand your pain, and hope things get better!
Except there’s a valid difference if comparing a friend relationship to a marital relationship. The one person in the world you are are expected to be the most vulnerable & trusting, the most intimate with all of yourself, & they are supposed live the same in return & that’s not possible from an addict living in their addiction. The relationship you get married for cannot even exist in the absence of reality & truth – the one living in a marital relationship with the addict is not given enough authentic relationship to have a relationship with. In so many ways, it’s like trying to be married to a cardboard cut-out figure instead of a real person. So it really is a loneliness & pain on a much more intense level than the loss of friendship to addiction. We get to have multiple friends at any given time to share our life with in friendship, but only one spouse.
Jennifer – I wanted to come back & say I don’t mean to diminish your painful experience related to your friend’s addiction & believe it must break your heart & be so hard for you. I apologize if it spoke otherwise. From my experience, being in married shoes similar to Mary’s, my intent was to validate the specific painful experience Mary was writing about due to the unique nature of the marriage relationship. It truly does feel as if you are sliced off from half of your life while being taunted by the reality that it’s just a few inches away reminding you in an excruciatingly painful way what you’re missing. And all the while feeling like “your hands are tied behind your back,” because of the unique commitment & investment involved in a marital relationship, compounded when children are involved.
My addict is my child. My first born, my baby. It was very lonely. I suppose I knew something, but I didn’t know what meth looked like in the face of my child. Oh the heartache. The grief, because my baby had died and someone, something else had taken his place. That was not my baby. And still the fear of his eternal death dances in the back of my brain and I hate it. Yes, it is lonely.
I hear you, Mary. I have not walked in your shoes, but as a retired clinical counselor I listened to many who have and I think your words are incredibly accurate. May God sustain you in ways that you recognize and know to be Him. Thanks for the courage to share so vulnerably the truth of what it is like to be the spouse of an addict. Thanks for not white-washing it all with Christian lingo. Blessings sent in your direction.
May God sustain you in ways that you recognize and know to be Him.
Yes, this.
I’m not a shiny Christian, either. This post feels like it has come from the very center of myself. Thank you for writing the things I think. I was trying to explain to my brother just today what it’s like to live and be in a relationship with an addict. It can’t be explained I guess because even those of us who are in it don’t know.
Makes me sad you suffer so and I understand your anger and I believe God does too! Betrayal is hard thing to swallow. Hugs to you.
I get the loneliness part. When we are grieving and going through such pain, we still feel alone in a room full of people. Although I can’t relate living with an addict and the betrayal, I understand the unimaginable pain of loss. I understand feeling alone. Keep writing and sharing your vulnerability. It will help you work through the pain.
Came across your blog quite randomly last week, but I believe there was a touch of the devine to it.
As the wife of a sex addict I’ve felt intense isolation. Feeling as though I can’t share our struggle with anyone because sex addiction is so poorly understood in society. Even sensing I have to disclaim what it entails when speaking with counselors and mental health providers. Unable to share this struggle with friends and family for the fear it will stigmatize my husband, who, despite all his betrayal and struggles, I still love dearly.
Feeling isolated from the trusting relationship we once shared. Isolated in my misery from friends and family knowing my true struggles.
And with any addiction there’s always the lingering “what if” or “when” will this happen again. I have yet to feel as though sobriety is a permanent state. Attempting to trust yet anticipating heartache. Selecting what parts to allow to heal and mend and what scars to leave open as a reminder of the fire we’ve been through.
I sit with you in the ever isolating presence of addiction. Although not reassuring or encouraging, perhaps it provides a sense of solidarity in our mutual time of struggles.
I am just now reading this and this is me. I honestly thought my husband was suffering from a neurological disease and he let me think it. I was begging him to make an appointment and the whole time he was using drugs. I felt so confused when he announced that he was leaving for rehab. I felt stupid also when he came clean with me and the life I thought I had was just a mirage.