When Helping Isn't Helping

Living with an addict is like riding a wild rollercoaster, only it isn't fun. Sometimes things "coast" along smoothly and you settle in, enjoying it like a ride in the country on a beautiful Spring morning. You begin to feel happy again, loving again, and your hopes and dreams about the future resurface. You may even stop anticipating that next "drop," believing in your heart that it was all just a bad dream.

Inevitably the drop hits and you feel that gut wrenching adrenaline in your stomach once again. The fear is back, the enveloping sadness and overwhelming dissapointment returns and you wonder how you ever could have believed that it was over, that they were "cured."

It's so easy for concerned friends and family to say, "Why don't you just leave?" Sounds like great adivce, if only it were that easy. Especially if we have children, whom we know should't be exposed to the chaos created by our addicted loved ones. But how do you stop loving the person you know is burried beneath the avalanche of addiction? It's like they've fallen into a deep hole. You're standing at the mouth of it looking down. You know they're in there. You can still hear the faint but familliar sound of their voice. You can barely make them out way down there and you're filled with compassion and empathy and fear for them. To "just leave" is to walk away from the hole, leaving that person that you love more than your own life trapped in that hole - leaving them to die in there. How can you do that? How do you just give up on them, even when you know their illness is killing you too? Some people can, in a very matter-of-fact fashion, assay a situation, determine it's value for their own welfare and, if it does not suit them, simply walk away and move on. Is there a shut off valve that the rest of us are not aware of? Where is the spiggot? Why can't we just shut love off, forget it and move on?

My next "disspoinment" returned with my husband's return to work just yesterday. I thank God that he's back at work because we were almost out of money. But it gives my husband the "opportunity" that he is, apparently, unable to resist. It's is a pretty sure bet that, if he is out of my sight for more than 15 minutes, he's going to go pick up his crack. He did it yesterday. I'm certain of it. I saw the dealer's phone numbers on the cell bill online. I saw that look in his eyes and saw it in his behavior when he wouldn't eat and wouldn't sit still for more than 2 minutes. I'm really getting good at this. He knows I know, but he lies anyway. Now I'm back to checking the bank account and cell bill, checking his pockets and the trash can... back to being sick to my stomach and wondering how I ever could have believed...

That's a pretty typical scenario for most people involved in a long-term relationship with a self-destructing addict. What seems to escape us is that, while thinking we are "helping" by sticking it out with them, we are in actuality "enabling" them to continue self-destructing. It seems that hitting bottom is paramount in recovery from addiction. Maybe not for everybody, but I know it was for me.

"Just leaving" sounds simplistic and rather cruel, but strength can come from the realization that it may just be the best thing for them. So perhaps, as it was in my own case, without the loss of something important to him, my husband may never change. Maybe walking away is, instead, truly putting our loved ones first and our needs, wants, hopes and dreams second.

But I'm so afraid. I don't know where I'll go, don't know what I'll do, how I'll live, where I'll live. What about my animals? What about my stuff? What about me, me, me? Everything I do, I do for him, right? Then why isn't it working? I stay and suffer and cry and pray and all the while, all this time I'm trying so hard to help him, he's still down there, way down deep in that hole and I realize I not helping him at all.

God's Words of strength and encouragement:

2 Timothy 1:7
"For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline."

2 Corinthians 4:8,9
"We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed and broken. We are preplexed, but we don't give up and quit. We are hunted down, but God never abandons us. We get knocked down, but we get up again and keep going."

Philippians 4:7
"And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."


A Prayer for Strength and Serenity:

Father God, help us to be fearless, Lord. Fill us with a true Spirit of Love. Help us to know your Will in this situation, God, and help us to take the necessary steps. Give us your strength, oh God. Lift us up and help us to move forward toward your truth, your light and your everlasting peace. In the Holy name of your precious Son, Jesus, Amen.

Regretting the Past

From the time I was 15 or so, I have been into one "substance" or another. Out of 4 kids, I was the only one who ended up with a substance abuse problem. Those were great odds for my family, since my mother was a raging alcoholic. She did her best, but when I think back on my chidhood and young adulthood I only see darkness and chaos, much like a creepy nightmare. Looking back, I wish I knew back then what I know now. I wish I could have helped her. I wish somebody had. Things would have been so much different. Maybe I wouldn't have wasted my whole life.

When I was 14, mom would let us "party" with our friends in the livingroom. I guess she figured, if we were gonna drink, better we drank right there at home rather than who knows where. By 16 I was a smoking pot, dropping acid, popping those little cross-top "whites" (I don't even know what they were, only that they got me really wired), snorting coke and drinking, always drinking. I was raped once at a "mountain jam" in Malibu at 17 when some guy popped 3 10 milligram Valiums in my mouth and I swallowed them. I remember being awake off and on, but I couldn't move. I know what he did. I've lived with the shame of that ever since. The utter stupidity. I didn't deserve to be raped, but if had known better, I could have prevented it.

I think the years that I was having babies were probably the best years of my life. I was sober during those years and happily married and proud of my family. I wasn't a Christian yet though, and when my husband moved our family, unknowingly to a party neighborhood up in the Antelope Valley, everything changed. I started drinking again and started snorting coke. "The Devil dwelleth in a desert," I heard somebody say once. That might be true. But more the truth is the fact that the devil dwells in the hearts of men, if we let him. He hates marriage because it is "of God." He'll do anything to destroy it. And so it was with us. That was the beginning of my downward spiral. For the next 14 years I have paid and paid and paid for my sins. But there was no forgivness because I didn't know who to ask for it. I just kept on making the same mistakes over and over and over again. Not until I had sunk to the very bottom in 2005, homeless, addicted, alone and afraid, did I begin to feel that I wasn't really alone at all. Yes, "feel." When I finally cried out to God for forgivness, when I asked Him to take me and do whatever he wanted with me, when I admitted to Him what a mess I had made of my life, I began to feel his presense there - in the cold, darkness of that broken down van, in the filth of that heartless city, something came over me: a strengh? A will to fight? I don't know what it was, but change began that night.

At the end of the movie "Shawshank Redemption," Morgan Freeman's character, "Red" is up before the parole board (again). They ask him if he feels he is rehabilitated. He wonders what they mean by that. Did they mean is he sorry? He conveys that there is not a day goes by that he doesn't feel regret. Not because he has been in prison for 40 years or because the Board feels he should. He looks back on the way he was then: a young, stupid kid. He wishes he could talk to him. Try to talk some sense into him. Tell him the way things are. But he can't. That kid is long gone and all that's left is this old man. He has to live with that.

That is how I feel every day of my life. There is a scripture in the bible that goes, "Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." (Phillipians 3:13-14). This passage helps me when I focus too much on the regrets of my past. I can't change it. Oh God how I wish I could, but I can't. The consolation for my children is that they have their mother back, whole and complete. They can rest in the knowlege that I'm here for them, sober, at any time of the day or night. My faith is my consolation. I have to have faith that, no matter what God's will is for my life, it's better than anything I could dream of on my own. Look where my will got me.

After Years of Foolish Choices - Finally 1 Really Good One

Emmanuel Reformed Church
I have a very poor track record with men as far back as I can remember. I will, however, begin with my first marriage in 1977: What can I say about him. He never loved me (or any other "woman" since, except our daughter). I have no idea why he married me at all, except maybe to prove to his father and brother that he isn't gay. It didn't work.

The second husband was really the one I should have stayed with. He was really a pretty decent guy. We had 3 great kids together. But I turned into an alcoholic, had an affair with my next door neighbor and ruined the whole thing. From that time on, for the last 17 years, this dysfunctional woman has managed to attract one dysfunctional man after another. Well, four to be exact. But then, what other kind of woman can a dysfunctional man get? They all seemed so "normal" at first. All I saw was the "night in shining armor" "I'm gonna make all your dreams come true" foot which each of them so flawlessly put forward.

After I wrecked the good marriage, I spent 4 years shamlessly chasing after the next door neighbor I had the affair with, a fellow alcoholic who never loved me either. We'll call him "Harley." He didn't even profess to love me. I knew, however, that my dilligence would pay off, or so I thought. It never did. Thank you Jesus!

When that finally subsided, I met "prince charming," another alcoholic with a great job in the motion picture industry. We'll call him "Tahoe." He took me places I had never been. Laughlin, Tahoe, Maui, New York. He gave me private tours of the studios around L.A., and took me on location from time to time. But over the 7 years I was with him, things were, from time to time, really wierd. Things didn't add up, time was missing, money spent, hotel charges on the credit card, excuses too perposterous to believe. He had secrets. Lots of dirty secrets that no one could know. You see, alcohol was not his only addiction. I became an expert private eye. I found out things about him that I will not divuldge here, but he finally decided I knew too much and dumped me.

Two months after that finally ended, I met a bum. But he was a beautiful bum. I mean he didn't have two pennies to rub together. But I did, so I didn't care. The first thing he did was borrow $20 from me so he could buy me a drink. Ah, Drew. Sexy, handsome, penniless Drew. He was such a breath of fresh air after the misery Harley and Tahoe put me through. A real friend and so sweet and an absolute comedian! We would talk and laugh all night long, aside from the other things we did all night long. He was beautiful! Six months into the relationship, I discoverd his "outfits" (needles) in a tissue box in my hall bathroom. He was a herion addict. One night when I came home from work I found him sitting in an armless chair - to all appearances sleeping sitting up - with a two inch long cigarette burn in my carpet. This was my first experience with the effects of herion. He ws nodding. I was devestated. But it's funny how desensitized you get. I didn't give up on him. Couldn't. No! Not me! I didn't run like I should have. I had a real purpose now. A job to do! My love would change him! I spent five years in that hell. And during those five years, he introduced me to crack cocaine. Wow! I thought it was fun - for a minute! I went from being a fairly affluent and successful legal secretary with my own home and a lovely car to a homeless bag lady in the span of 3 years. During the last 2 years he was in jail more than he was out of it and I was alone, living in a broken down van in a parking lot on general relief and food stamps.

Toward the end, when I could take no more of the unbearable shame and lonliness, not to mention how sick I was of literally not having a pot to pee in, I went to a local church, recommended by a fellow addict. This church had an unbelievable gospel choir. I really loved it there! It was something different and new and everybody there was friendly and loving and they didn't care that I was homeless. Instead, they let me join the choir, which gave me something to look forward to every week! I was at church almost every day! And I started going to school and got a job and things were really turning around for me. Thank you again, Jesus! I was really doing great and loving being sober. I started attending the Celebrate Recovery program through the church.

That's where I met him!! A charming, deadly handsome, southerner from Alabama. EeeeHaaaa!! Now, let me explain: It wasn't perfect either, at least not at first. He had just gotten out of prison after having been busted for his fourth DUI in 10 years. He was open and honest about his rocky history with women (married 4 times) and about his sexual addiction (he cheated on all of them). But he was a believer, like me. A Godly Christian man - something I had never in my life experienced. This one was different! This man was God's will for my life. I knew it!! Okay, so he had a history. I had a history too - a nasty one!

Anyway, he was an usher at church on Sundays while I sang in the choir. We attened several other functions at church together. We were both sober and both loving our new life together. Six months after we met, he got back to his usual work as a Journeyman Lineman and started making more money than I had ever seen. Things were absolutely beautiful and we started planning our wedding and our future together. We were married there at the church on July 14, 2007, before all of our friends and families. It really was a dream come true! I had waited 17 years for this!

Soon after the wedding, however, things started getting wierd. It was all too familliar: time missing, money missing, constant overdrafts, poor excuses, strange phone numbers in rapid succession on the cell bill. He stopped having dinner with me, stopped coming to bed at the same time as me - staying up till all hours, stopped kissing me. It was pointing to something that I would rather die than face and I put it out of my mind for months. Then I found the paraphenalia. Oh God NO! He's smoking crack!

All of my suspicions materialized last December when I called one of the phone numbers. It was a woman. She told me he would pick her up on his way home from work and he would drive her to go pick up drugs and they would smoke together in his truck. God knows what else she did for him. She didn't know he was married, though she admitted knowing about me. That was just one of many shocking truths that I have had to face in lo these 6 months or so.

It's now almost June. I've had all these months for this to sink in. I'm pretty sure I'm done with the crying. Praying doesn't help because God won't interfere with his free will. He's lost 3 jobs so far. He's not working now. He doesn't go to church anymore. Dosen't pray anymore that I can tell. He doesn't talk to me anymore. Doesn't make love to me anymore. He just watches T.V. All the time. T.V. I don't go to church anymore either. I can't. If I turn my back for a second, he'll go pick up drugs. Last Wednesday, I had to be admitted to the hospital for a D&C to have a uterine fibroid removed. He drove me. I was worried that he might go get drugs while I was stuck in the hospital, but he assured me, like he has over and over and over, that he was going to the waiting room to wait for me.

Recently, however, I bought a little Boost Mobile phone through a website I found. It has something called Accutracking software loaded on it. All you have to do is turn it on and hide it in the vehicle and it will show you, via their website, everywhere that vehicle has been. I was smart enough to hide it in the truck before he took me to the hospital. No surprise. He was off and running as soon as he dropped me off. Lies. Lies. Lies. I hate the lies more than anything else. It's so insulting!

How is it that I ended up yet again with another addict? And me sober this time and a Christian to boot! How can this be? How could this man have fooled me so completely? A Christian? Can no one be trusted?

You're asking why I stay, aren't you. Well, there are not very many good reasons, I guess, but mainly I have allowed myself to become complete dependent. I'm not in good health either and unable to do the work that I used to do. I'm not a young woman.

I've been thinking about getting my real estate license, though. Maybe that would be something I could do. I do need independence. I can't count on him. If and when he loses everything, so will I and I'm more afraid of losing my shakey security than being subjected to the very drug that destroyed my life. I can't stand that stuff. It's the breath of satan. I'm terrified of it. It took me to hell and I had to work very hard to pull myself out of it. I never want to go back to that hell again, nor do i want to be a part of my husband's hell. I really never knew he had any kind of drug problem. He was a recovering alcoholic, as far as I knew.

So, here I am. Again. I'm 50 years old and facing having to start over yet again. I have a history of putting all of my faith and hope in men, only to be dissapointed and heartbroken. I think I've learned, finally, that all my faith and hope needs to be in Christ. He that never left me, never lied to me, never cheated on me, always comforts me, always lifts me up and always, always loves me, is and has always been the love I have waited for. What can separate us from the love of God? Nothing. Not even death.

Yes, somehow it happened to me again - but by the Grace of God, it's the last time!