My Loving, Caring, Funny, Handsome Addict.
I wanted to give you some background on my fiancé and myself, to give you some context. My next post will be about the lying and manipulation we all experience as family and friends to addicts and alcoholics; it’s something I’m very much struggling with at the moment.
But I digress…
If you ever meet my fiancé, you will immediately impressed by how sweet the guy is–there’s something in his disposition, something lingering in the backs of his eyes, that lets you know he’s a good guy. You will trust him. You will value his opinions. He will strike you as sincere
Which is why it’s incredibly confusing and infuriating to constantly be lied to by the guy.
The Back Story
When I first met my fiancé, as I said in my previous post, he quickly made it clear that he was an alcoholic, sober for just under a year, and that he was attending AA meetings. I spent the duration of the next year fully believing the guy was sober, attending his meetings, and doing what it took to stay the course.
I was wrong.
Within the first year of dating, my fiancé and I got engaged and moved out of Texas and to the Northeast to pursue our careers. It was right after our move, a few months after our engagement, that I discovered I had been duped.
The wondrous thing about credit card statements, Dear Reader, is that they do not lie. There’s a transaction date, a company or individual who received the funds, and the amount paid. So, when you are creating a household budget on a bright and cheery day, and you’re going through you and your partner’s statements and find over 50 liquor store purchases on your lovely fiancé’s transaction list over the course of two and a half months, you kind of can’t deny what’s going on.
Even if you want to.
Even if every cell in your body is absolutely refusing to accept the lines and lines of KING LIQUORS and WINE & SPIRITS purchases.
Even if it feels like someone has just round-house kicked you in the chest and knocked the air and life out of you…
You can’t deny the truth.
I won’t bore you with the details, but I left. I packed up my suitcase, I packed up our dog (MY dog), and I left. I drove halfway across the country; I barely remember it, I was so. Angry.
I was never taking him back. How could he do this? How could he lie for so long? I hadn’t even bothered looking at bank statements from even earlier in the year; I knew what I would see. How could my sweet, caring, loving, gentle fiance be so selfish? Why would he do this to me. We were going to have a family. We were going to have it all.
Did this mean he had been wasted around me and I never knew? Oh my gosh. The guy had been tanked around me at least three days a week for the last few months and I had no idea. I was an idiot. I was such an idiot.
I was done.
I wasn’t going back.
To hell with him.
Then the begging, pleading, crying, I-Promise-It-Will-Never-Happen-Again-I-Was-Just-So-Weak-And-Stressed mess hooked me, and I drove the 18 hours back to my fiancé. I let him bawl on my shoulder and beat himself up and tell me how much he hated himself. I let him “teach” me about alcoholism and I let him fill my head with excuses for why he had stopped going to AA meetings, why he hadn’t prioritized addressing his addiction over everything else. I let him apologize as many times as he felt necessary. We made a pact to be honest with one another, to communicate with one another. Fiancé agreed to start seeing a therapist and go to daily AA meetings; I considered going to Al-Anon meetings, but I didn’t.
I was afraid.
And then life moved on.
His AA attendance dwindled from daily, to three times a week, to once a week, to never. I became a nag, an over-controlling nuisance who almost robotically asked “…Aren’t you going to a meeting tonight?” “Are you drinking again?” “Don’t you think you’re prioritizing work over helping yourself…?” “Why are you taking $150 out of the ATM every week?”
Flash forward seven months (a month and a half ago from today), and I’m getting a phone call from one of my good friends, someone who works in pharmacy. “Hey, have you talked to (Fiancé)? He just texted me…wanted to buy Vivance from me. Is he ok? Is he abusing prescription meds?”
Yes, he was abusing
prescription drugs. It turns out my fiancé–my amazing, sweet, gentle fiance–was taking 120mg of Amphetamine Salts on the reg, popping them like they were candy. He was being prescribed adderall (which baffles me), and would run out of his pills within a week. And, to top that off, he was now reaching out to my friends to illegally purchase prescription stimulants because they “worked better”.
The guy’s blood pressure was 170/80. He’s an athlete; he’s in shape. You would think I would have known, or at least been partially aware of, the fact that my fiance was walking around higher than a kite 24/7. The anxiety attacks he was having, his disinterest in sex, the dappled purple coloration on his forearms from his capillaries reacting to the overload of amphetamines…his blue fingernails, his icy fingertips. His depression, his mood swings, his disinterest in anything but work and staying up two or three nights in a row without a lick of sleep…
I should have known.
Deep down, I did know. I just didn’t want to admit it.
I had seen the empty prescription bottles laying around after they had been retrieved from the pharmacy not even two weeks prior. I had seen the empty pill casings tossed to the floor, the powdered contents they once held…what? Snorted? Tossed back like a shot? I’ll never know. I just silently picked them up and threw them away. I confronted him one time, back in November, about his dependence and abuse of adderall.
“Don’t you think you take too much? Don’t you think you’re starting to get addicted to them?”
It led to a fight.
I was verbally put through the shredder. I was controlling, I didn’t trust him, I was pissing him off…he made me feel awful for even suggesting there was an issue with his prescription. “I need them.”
I got a quick glimpse of the monster living inside my fiancé. I wasn’t completely aware of it then, but I am now…I was having a conversation with his Addiction.
After he cooled down, my fiancé returned to being the gentle guy he is. His Addiction had won; I shut my mouth and never brought it up again. I gave in.
I’m afraid to ask him…and I need to, so I will…but over the past few months I’d noticed my post-surgeries emergency stash of pain killers (former athlete, my knees are shot) and muscle relaxers start to dwindle. Again, I didn’t want to see it. But I know in my heart what was going on. I knew it then. You can believe after I got done talking with my friend about my fiancé’s attempted drug deal, I tossed that mess of prescription drugs down the toilet so fast, your head would spin.
Addiction is awful.
I am fully aware that I am powerless over his addiction.
But how is that supposed to make me feel any better?
I’m leaving to go see him at his facility in twenty minutes. I’m scared.