A little background

It's funny, but if you told me that my father was an alcoholic several years ago, I would have never believed it. Sure he had a few drinks a day, but it wasn't a problem, right? I lived alone with my dad for about 6 years (my parents are divorced). I knew that he went out sometimes on the weekends. I knew that sometimes he had a few too many, but I never considered him an alcoholic. I mean, he never missed work or anything. He couldn't possibly be an alcoholic.

Then about 7 years ago I was awakened by a pounding on my front door. It was a police officer wanting me to come to the station so I could drive my father home. He had been picked up for DUI. I was a little shocked, but I wasn't overly concerned. Lots of people make that mistake. It's not the end of the world, but it will sure mess up your life for a while.

He was horribly ashamed. I can't blame him. He didn't want anyone to know about it either. Well, we live in a small town where the police blotter is printed in the daily paper. There is no escape from it. People found out. Still he could get past all that, right?

To make a long story short, he ended up getting not one, not two, but THREE  DUIs in less than one year. At one point the judge got disgusted with him because he had quit going to AA, and he made him spend several days in jail.

After the third DUI, he started to really get involved in AA. It seemed he was going to put his life back together. That's where the story ends for me really. We had a falling out in July of 2005 and haven't spoken since. Ridiculous really, but these things have a way of getting of hand if you don't tackle them soon after they happen.

After all of this, I finally realized that my father was an alcoholic. Talk about being in denial LOL! And of course, I was married to an alcoholic too. Always wanted to marry someone just like dear old dad, huh?
I knew that I was marrying an alcoholic. He even admitted that he was an alcoholic. He comes from a family full of alcoholics. I guess that maybe I really didn't believe that he really was. After all, he held down a full-time job without ever calling off sick, and he loved me. I realize now that he was a functioning alcoholic. He like my father could compartmentalize his life into work and party time.
When we got married, his drinking mostly occurred at night. He would drink after 9PM, and that was ok with me. He continued in this way for several years. When I was pregnant with our second child,  he began drinking early in the mornings on the weekends and going to bed until the afternoon.
After his much beloved job was gone, he began drinking when he had panic attacks. Suddenly it was happening more often. I don't like it being done in front of my children. As his depression worsened, the drinking got worse.

Where do we stand now?

I don't really know. I love him, but I think it's time for me to work on myself. My depression is worsening, and my panic attacks are becoming more frequent. I am spending all of my time worrying about him or the kids. I keep forgetting about me. I need to get out of this house on my own.  Just me.  No kids. Just me.  That could be as simple as just taking a walk. It just has to be for me and only me.  Of course, I have to take care of the kids too, but I need to find a point where there is time for me.

More Rambling

I am feeling a  little less sick to my stomach now. I took 1/2 a Xanax and spent some time in the sun. Can’t believe how hot the sun is today. Makes me believe that summer is really coming.

I really want to figure out how to be supportive without being smothering or controlling. Why do I internalize everything that he is going through and make it my own pain? Co-dependency?

God grant me the strength to be supportive without trying to control. God show me how to manage my own stress without making myself sick in the process.

I just want him to feel better, but I can’t make him feel better. It’s so hard sitting here watching him disappear day by day. Even on our so-called normal days, I know it’s just a veneer slapped over the problems. I don’t know how to make it better.

I think I have done all I can, and maybe I done too much. I don’t want him to resent me.

Some days this mask I wear to get me through my days is such a heavy burden.

I suppose all I can do is keep muddling through. I take care of our children and try to keep the house clean. I go to work. What else can I do? Should I start leaving him alone? I’m afraid to leave him alone. I don’t know why, but I am. Should I start getting out of here more often? What exactly do I think is going to happen if I’m not here?

Suggestions?

Jumping Right In

Due to my inability to come up with a catchy title, I decided to use my username on here as the title of my blog. I’m not exactly in the frame of mind to be creative. I woke already in panic mode. I had a stomach ache within moments, and then the panic attack set in. It doesn’t help that I already have a cold and am feeling generally icky.

He says that I turn everything around so it is about me. Perhaps I do.

His depression is weighing me down to the point that I can barely function. I worry about him day and night. Oh, there are days that we seem relatively normal, but it’s always there in the back of my mind. I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Two weeks ago he was put on meds for his depression. He’s already disgusted with the med he was given. It’s making him too sleepy, and of course, it has sexual side effects. I counter with the fact that he should give it more time than two weeks. He can’t give up yet, but if he’s truly concerned that he should call the doctor. He doesn’t want to do that. He feels that they would make him make an appointment or worse, blow him off. I see that as not wanting to help himself.

It doesn’t help that he’s an alcoholic. Although he isn’t drinking all that much these days…not that I have observed anyway. I don’t mark his bottles or count his drinks.  I don’t feel the need to defend him either. He is what he is.

Before he went to the doctor I was very afraid that he was going to kill himself. I called his father, and he flew here. After that visit and the doctor visit, I began to have a little hope that things would get better. He really seemed to be trying. He was back to work, and he was much easier on the kids.

He’s still being better with the kids. By that I mean he isn’t yelling at them or anything. That part is nice. He isn’t actively taking part in their lives either. Some days I feel like he’s part of the furniture.

Weekends are the worst for me because I don’t have the distraction of work. I am constantly dwelling on how upset I feel about how he is to the point of making myself nauseated.

I recognize that I am co-dependent. I know that I have to detach from him, or I will lose my mind. Can you detach and be supportive? I really don’t know the answer to that question.

I know that I do not have control of him, his drinking or his depression. I recognize that my life is completely out of control. I guess that I need to see a therapist that knows how to deal with these issues. I am planning on asking my doctor at my next appointment (in two weeks) for a referral to someone.

It hurt yesterday when he told me that I make this all about me. That’s why I won’t deny it. If it hurt, well, then it’s probably true.  Perhaps I turn into panic woman because I want to control him by forcing him to see how badly he’s upsetting me. Guilt as motivation or some such bull.

I cannot control people, places or things. Repeat until sane. (Thanks for that one, Grateful Dude).

I suppose I could really benefit from going to AlAnon too. I just wish that there were meetings closer to where I live. It’s a 30 minute drive to the nearest one, and our finances don’t allow for wasting lots of money on gas. Excuse? Yeah, but it’s true too.

What I’m doing to myself is worrying to me as well.  Every single time I get stressed out by his problems, I end up sick with a cold. I can’t eat or sleep. Taking my Xanax helps some. I take a 1/2 at work when things start to creep in and I can’t stop panicking about him. Sometimes at night I take a whole pill just to sleep. I don’t sleep well despite taking the pill, but at least I get some sleep.

How do I stop letting his depression run my life? Dammit, I don’t even want to leave the house! I used to walk in the evenings, but I can’t even make myself do that. Is it because I won’t be here to “control” what’s going on? I’m beginning to think that is true. I may just be a control freak (not that anyone listens to me though).  Funny that I dream of running away at the same time lol.

I really don’t feel any better for having written this, but it’s a start. I apologize for my rambling, but again, my state of mind isn’t very good this morning.

I am going to go hug my kids and maybe spend some time in the sun. Maybe I will find more to add here later.