No longer the addicts wife.

Today I got word that my divorce is final.    In thinking and pondering about this huge landmark in our lives I have discovered that there is a bottom line.  The tiny nugget of absolute truth at the bottom of a heap of pain, guilt, sorrow, and sadness.  That absolute truth is this:

Addiction destroyed our family.

Not their mom.  Not their dad.

Addiction is a horrible, despicable, horrendous thing.  It starts out small and then grows to consume everything around it; relationships, families, and trust.  It swallows people whole, leaving an empty shell of a body filled with pain, guilt, and shame.  Addiction makes people turn into a stranger who is capable and willing to do things that they never would have dreamed of before becoming an addict.  And that is precisely what happened in our home and to our family.

I remember clearly the day that Greg and I both realized that there was a problem.  It was August 2003 and we were driving to Park City for a few nights on business.  I was 8 months pregnant with Jack and Halle was 15 months old.  It's hard for me to think that our children never really knew their dad as the person he was before addiction.  He didn't disappear immediately of course, but they were so young, I honestly think that most of their memories of him are of the last 8-10 years and that is heartbreaking.  They have been hard years.

These are the truths of addiction as I know them.  I learned these the hard way:

1.  All addicts lie.  They manipulate, steal, lie, and do whatever is necessary to get what they want.  Someone who has never exhibited these qualities will do so, and never really accept the pain and damage these actions cause.  The spiritual death happens early on.  The numbing to wrong choices and behavior.  It's the first to go.  Satan knows that if that is still in place, he won't have complete power.

2.  Addictive tendencies are genetic.  There is a family history of addiction.  Coupled with Greg's long term, legitimate pain, I don't see how Greg becoming an addict was preventable.  This gives me a small bit of peace.  I don't look back over the last 13 years and wonder where the line of no return was.  When it became too far gone.  Which choice was the one that threw us all over the edge.  I honestly believe there was no way to stop it.  Perhaps Greg agreed to this before this life and maybe I did too.  And what that says about how it all turned out is something I don't want to think about.  In the end did I not have enough faith?  Did I give up on him before I should have?  I don't know.

3.  Love and hope never dies.  When looking at the addictive behaviors, it is hard to seperate the person you know and love from their disease.  Throw emotions like anger, frustration, humiliation, and fear into the equation and it get's blurry.  On a good day, I could understand why he made some choices that he made and understand how they were linked to the disease.  On a bad day, filled with problems, tears, and emotion, it was easier to combine the two.  You can't stand in front of addiction and tell it what you think without also telling the person.  On the other hand, I haven't stopped loving or hoping for the return of the person I married.  I also can't live in a world run by addiction anymore.

4.  There is a line in the sand.  Where that line is, is often hard to tell.  In some ways, I felt like I was taking steps toward it for years, in other ways it just showed up kind of suddenly.  I prayed for years to know what to do.  To stay- to leave.  I couldn't see the line anywhere around me.  Then suddenly (or not, I'm still not sure) there it was.  I knew it when I saw it.  It took a lot of courage once I recognized it, but I didn't hesitate to step over it.  I knew exactly what I was doing, and it was extremely difficult.  I also knew that it was the absolute right choice.  It was the right choice for my children.  Saying that out loud- Leaving Greg was the right choice for our children -is heartbreaking.  But it doesn't make it any less true.

5. The secret dream that still lives on.  There is a part of me that wishes I could maybe still have him back.  I would jump for joy to have him knock on my door addiction free.  It makes divorcing him all that more difficult.  And sad.  I always thought that when you divorced someone it was because you stopped loving them.  That's not true.

6.  There is no good fix for addiction.  I certainly haven't seen one.  I've heard talk about rock bottom and I'm more than familiar with the 12 steps.  Recovery from addiction is not as simple as stopping taking drugs.  The disease of addiction begins with taking drugs but then goes on it's own road.  It changes how you see reality, what is fair and what is not.  It brings entitlement and anger.  Pride goes out the window, and not in a good way.  They are steps to a spiritual deadening and a permanent emotional numbing.  Once you are so far down that road, how do you come back?  There is no agency or will power.  There is no hope and sometimes no desire.  I don't know how to fix it.  When I have been asked through the years why I stayed, I always said "I don't want to look back and wonder-If only I had tried this, or that, maybe it would have made a difference."  Maybe I stayed too long, maybe not long enough, but I don't look back with regrets.

7.  Accountability still exists.  Addiction is a disease that robs you of your free agency.  Once it takes hold, you are no longer in control.  However, that does not disolve your responsibility.  And Greg is responsible for choices he has made.  I am responsible for things that I shouldn't have done.  Mistakes were made.  Yet, I don't believe that so much hurt was caused as to not be forgivable.  I truly believe that if Greg were to recover, we could forgive and move forward.  That is, unfortunately, neither here nor there because Greg isn't in recovery. 

8.  The addict's choices are the only choices.  I can love Greg til the end of time.  He could love me forever and ever, yet it doesn't matter.  Greg has given up on recovery, and I can no longer raise my kids in a home full of the pain and hurt of addiction.  I could choose recovery for Greg but it's not my choice.  I can't love him better, yell at him until something clicks and he makes a better choice, or force him into treatments or help.   I tried.  For a long time.  The fact of the matter is, the road out of addiction has to be walked by the addict.  Nobody else can do the work for them.  It is their journey to take and it can't be taken for anyone else but themselves. 

9.  I didn't divorce Greg because I wanted to, and he didn't become an addict because he wanted to.  Life is about handling the problems that arise and hopefully coming out the other side a stronger, better person.  It's not about blame.  Blame is the easy way out.  Some horrible things happened to Greg, and one of those things was addiction.  I had to make hard choices about the welfare of myself and our kids and those decisions were scary and difficult.  It simply is what it is.  I wish it were different and I know that Greg does too.  He didn't want this life anymore than I did.  Nobody in this life gets what they deserve- good or bad, and it is far from fair.  However, there is a plan and a purpose.  If we focus on what those are, the wrongs don't hurt so much and we can go forward with gratitude.

10.  Just because we lived with addiction for most of our 16 years of marriage doesn't mean we didn't truly love each other.  It doesn't mean we didn't have great times together.  It doesn't mean that there wasn't happiness and joy.  There was.  On the flip side, just because we are divorced and I feel peace and happiness in my life and home as a single mom doesn't mean that I'm not sad.  Or that I don't grieve my marriage.  Or that just because "this is what I wanted" makes it hurt any less.  It certainly hurts.   All of us.

Moving on is scary and uncertain.  I have often felt afraid.  However, I have faith and peace. Everyone is safe and I feel like that is a gift.  I can support my children comfortably, and I have a job and own a home.  Our kids are healthy and happy.  As the fear in them is replaced with confidence, they are turning into different kids.  It's amazing to see.  I have allowed myself to open up to new things.  New opportunities, callings, friends.  And in turn have opened my heart, home, and life to more than I was able to before.  We are better, healthier, people having been out from under the umbrella of addiction for nearly a year and a half.  Greg isn't homeless or in prison.  He is cared for and his needs are met.  It is all I can ask and hope for.  Life is still good.  It's just not how I planned it.

And that's okay.

2 am reminder

I forget about this blog.  I go about my life and completely ignore it.  Then suddenly, at 2 am my phone buzzes.  I check it out and it's a comment on this blog and I think:

Oh yeah.

Then in the morning I scroll through this blog and because I can't remember anything, I re-read posts like I'm seeing them for the first time.  And I am shocked at what I have been willing to share.  I am also suddenly taken back to different times in my life and my emotional state.

The despair.  It breaks my heart.

I think as human beings we tend to push out the hard, terrible, horrible things in our memories.  We try to convince ourselves that "It wasn't that bad."  It's a coping mechanism.   Then if something reminds us, and we REALLY remember, it's like being dropped back into the middle of it.

Which is what happened to me this morning.  I read the post about my life in the dark.  I felt horrible.  I remember being so knocked down and depressed that I couldn't play with my kids, or brush my teeth.  That's depression.  And I remember crying everyday and saying "I am so sad."  I remember coming home to a trashed house because my husband wouldn't even clean up after himself.  It was horrible and I feel guilty for letting my children live through that with me.
 
Sometimes I think we don't really realize what our life looks like until you are in a different place.  I am in a different place and I am shocked at the pressure I lived under.

16 months ago, my husband was desperate to have surgery.  I told him to wait a week and he refused.  I ended up telling him that if he did it, he couldn't come home to recover.  The next morning he hitchhiked to the hospital.  Later that afternoon the recovery room nurses called me to let me know he was ready to come home.  I had to tell them that he didn't live with me.  My home is not his.  He ended up going to a nursing home and is still there.  I told him he could come home if he was clean for 6 months, he's never tried.  I filed for divorce 3 months ago.  It should be final in a few weeks.

It was hard.  It was sad and heartbreaking.  I cried and was angry.  I bargained myself almost into letting him come home.  I was afraid.  I kind of still am.  But I am something else too.

Peaceful.

Peace reins supreme in our home.  When I go home, there is joy and I enjoy the calm.  My children thrive in it.  We are happy.

As I read that post and everything wrong in my life I remember thinking "There is no way out of this.  I can't see any way that any of this can ever change."  That's despair.  But things do work out.  There is a plan for our lives and nothing ever stays the same.

We put our sweet dog to sleep in July and got new carpet.  My son couldn't read or tie his shoes because he is dyslexic and I didn't realize it.  He's been going to tutoring for over a year and last week at parent teacher conference his teacher slid his DIBELS test across the table to me.  He was at grade level.  First time....ever.  And I cried in his classroom.  My daughter is now a gorgeous 6'1" 8th grader with lots of friends, a 4.0, and plays on the basketball team.  I am in the Primary Presidency and get a lot of joy and fulfillment from that calling.  My son was just ordained a deacon and passed me the sacrament last week.  Now that my husband isn't stealing my money anymore, I suddenly have more and the kids and I  take a big vacation every summer.  We have family prayer and attend church.  We pay tithing and all have temple recommends.  Life is good.

Living under the umbrella of addiction is a hard thing.  And maybe divorce isn't the answer for you.  I will admit that I really wanted to be able to walk into the darkness, rescue my husband, and bring him back to us.  I wanted our love story to continue.  I still love him very much.  But being out from underneath of addiction for a period of time reminded me of who I am.  The person I am because of the trials I have had.  I am a strong capable person.  If you are reading this and you are where I was, you are a strong capable person too.

Things will work out.
Go forward with faith
Your life has a plan and a purpose.

They are LDS cliche, and they are all true.