When I think back on the time I spent with my ex-alcoholic, the dominant emotion that comes to mind is “loneliness”. Over time, as our relationship became more and more dysfunctional, I made the choice to turn inward.
I pulled away from others for a number of reasons, one of the most shameful is because I found his behaviour embarrassing.
I remember an evening we went over to my boss’ house for dinner. After dessert, her husband took the “men” out to his workshop for scotch. Predictably, my ex drank beyond his limits and ended up sitting on another female guest’s lap for an extended period of time (much to my horror and the silent fury of her husband). I waited until the morning to point out how his behaviour was inappropriate and painful for me. He shrugged off my comments, telling me I was too sensitive, selfish, and should lighten up. Conversation over.
That’s typically how we talked about things that bothered us.. someone would bring a legitimate grievance to the table to be dismissed, put down, and ignored. Notice I said “us”. Over time, this became the relationship’s culture, it’s normal. My hands are not clean.
I can’t speak to how this experience was for him, but it had a profound impact on my self-worth. Having my opinions, needs, and experience undermined and belittled made me feel as though I had nothing relevant or authentic to bring to the table. Without that, there could be no positive change and as a result, the only “logical” next step was to avoid interacting with other people. Without third party accountability, it was easier to continue on with my “truth”: that I was worthless, unreasonable and unlovable.
Another reason I withdrew, is the misguided notion that I felt that if we only had to be accountable to each other, things would eventually improve. That life would be somewhat predictable and manageable with only one person to worry about.
But, as many of you can relate, being in a relationship with someone that is not present is not fulfilling; emotionally, spiritually, or physically. The harder I clung on to him and tried to force him to spend “quality” time with me, the more he rejected me and tried to make space. This started with refusing to share meals, refusing to spend time time together, and eventually to sleeping alone.
Our evening ritual would culminate as he became increasingly distant, quiet, and sometimes confrontational. Anything to make me retreat and shut myself in the bedroom, to leave him alone to drink and watch a movie he had already seen hundreds of times waiting for the vodka to overtake him. When I remember this, I still cringe. I’ve never felt so low, undesirable and lonely. I remember hearing the bottle pop before I’d even made it up the stairs. I remember lying awake for hours, wondering what was wrong with me, how I could fix myself to make him want me again.
Truthfully, I still struggle to combat this feeling. I sometimes break into a cold sweat trying to get out the words to set a boundary and express my feelings. I can’t seem to override the expectation that I shouldn’t share what I’m feeling because it somehow doesn’t matter.
But – I’m working on it.
I remind myself that someone else’s option of me does not need to impact my own self-worth. I remind myself that we are all free to make our own choices and suffer the consequences. I remind myself that I also have choices to make, and I should value my own needs when making them. I remind myself that I’m also entitled to have good things and experiences and that I don’t need to accept unacceptable behaviour.