u/ImpactParticular4461

(Disclaimer: this is sooo much longer than I intended. Once I started writing it just all poured out. Sorry. I put parts in subtitles so you dont have to read what’s not interesting to you, but now it looks like AI lol. Also, I’m aware much of what is written below is cringe. I don’t care. It’s not for everyone but neither am I.)

TLDR:

I just wanted to check in. Last week (Wednesday) I posted asking for help as I had just stumbled across my husband’s first relapse since coming home from two months in treatment for occupational PTSD, depression, and alcohol use disorder last November. I posted that I didn’t know what to do and that I felt like I was going to die.

You guys helped me so much. Thank you for reminding me 'first things first.’ You grounded me, and told me that it sounded like everyone was safe. You were right - we were safe. We were okay.

You told me that if it was true that I was safe, nothing had to be decided right away and that I could focus on our daughter’s high school graduation, which was only a few days after the relapse. Right again: I did focus on my kiddo, and it was a beautiful day for the whole family. We had a big party with friends, family, and neighbours (Friday), followed by a beautiful ceremony the next day (Saturday). I burst into tears as she crossed the stage and my husband reached for my hand and squeezed it tightly. I put the relapse away in a mental box for a minute, and let him hold my hand as our baby took her diploma. I put my head on his shoulder.

You also gave me immediate instructions on box breathing to help me get through the panic attack. This was so helpful. I practiced box breathing until I was able to fall to sleep. I slept in the guest room.

The Rest:

I won’t lie, Wednesday was a brutal evening and Thursday was worse. I couldn’t stop crying as I cleaned the house in preparation for Friday’s party, and neither could my husband. He was so full of remorse and I was so full of fear and anger. While I had originally wanted to keep the information from our children until after grad, that was impossible due to the weird mood of the house, so on Thursday morning I told them that I had discovered their dad’s relapse the night before, but I also reminded them that we were safe and grad was still going to be amazing and that no matter what, us three girls would be okay. They were ok. They took the news in stride. Privately, they told me they suspected he was heading towards a relapse due to his recent moodiness. They are so smart.

My husband went to an AA meeting the day after (Thursday). He had been attending his treatment centre’s alumni meetings (not twelve-step based) online twice a week, but after the relapse he has realized he needs in-person meetings too. He went back to AA again two days later (Sunday) after the chaos of the grad weekend slowed down.

Last night (Tuesday), he went to his online recovery alumni meeting and told his peers (who he has developed very close bonds with) about his relapse and the factors leading up to it that he identified that made him more vulnerable (not enough sleep, missing meetings, abandoning self care, indulging in negativity). He was really nervous for that meeting. He also went for a long bike ride with his dog during the day, and took lots of pictures and videos that he shared with me and the kids. A case worker from the recovery centre (it's a really engaged centre, primarily designed for first responders) called me to see how I was doing. I told him everything I’m telling you now. He said it sounded like my husband was doing exactly what they teach the guys to do in their post-treatment plans, and that it sounds like he’s quickly getting back on track. The case worker said that my husband probably felt shell-shocked and scared to experience how easy it is to slip, and how quickly that slip becomes destructive. He reminded me that this is a very important lesson for an addict to learn in the overconfidence of early sobriety and that, while painful, it may make his recovery stronger.

Other Things I Want to Share:

- I knew the relapse was happening about three weeks in advance. Just like the kids, I sensed the ‘emotional relapse’ before the physical relapse happened - he was moody, depressed, angry, filled with self-pity. He was picking fights. He was talking about old friends who are deep in addiction and how he missed them and how it might be good for us to reconnect with them. He stopped planning fun activities for himself, stopped planning dates for us, started watching TV alone instead of hanging out with the family. He got zero exercise. I had to nag him about medical and therapy appointments. I complained that his affection towards me had waned. I warned him that I thought he was in relapse territory. He dismissed my concerns. Textbook emotional relapse.

- Last week, as this bad mood continued, he went to visit his family of origin as he is currently on a brief vacation from work. It was a big mistake going out of town by himself to see them while his recovery was in a shaky place (they drive him crazy with their own emotional dismissiveness, coldness, and negativity). He came back emotionally lower than when he had left. He skipped two meetings and cancelled a therapy appointment. He tells me he bought the bottle the day after he returned home from visiting his family (last Monday). I believe that.

- He says he was drinking for two days (last Monday & Tuesday) before I found the bottle (Wednesday evening). I believe this too. We were fighting via text throughout those days and it was awful. I had accused him of relapse as early as Tuesday because of how awful he was treating me, picking fights and pushing me away and being dismissive. He was just acting like a totally asshole, a friggen’ monster. I texted “this isn’t my first relapse rodeo” before I even knew he was drinking. It was all just so familiar: the victimhood, the self pity. I slept in the spare room on Monday and Tuesday, before I even ‘knew’ he was drinking on Wednesday. I just sensed he wasn’t himself, or someone safe to be around. Always trust your instincts!

- I discovered the relapse on the third day of his drinking (last Wednesday) because during our three day text argument, I finally stopped arguing and simply asked him point blank, via text, if he would take a breathalyzer test. I hadn’t asked him to do this since he returned home from treatment, despite his self-authored post-treatment plan stating that he would be happy to take a test whenever I needed reassurance in order to support my healing. Of course he refused to. So, I knew.

- I had been in the guest room when I texted this request. When he refused, I went into our bedroom and found him in bed watching TV. I asked him again to take the breathalyzer and reminded him of his post-treatment promise. Again, he refused. So I looked for the drink. It took me all of 3 seconds to find the half drank pint glass sitting in the nightstand beside him. When I opened that cupboard and saw that drink, it was like the world stopped turning. We just looked at each other, both of us completely stunned. I watched every gut-wrenching emotion pass over his face until it just collapsed into full remorse and tears started running down his cheeks. I’m sure he saw the very same thing happen on mine, except my face eventually landed on devastating disbelief. I don’t know how long we stood there like that.

- After that moment, I started looking for the vodka bottle. He said it was gone already. I didn’t believe him. It took me about three more seconds to find the giant bottle of bottom shelf vodka hidden in our closet. This cheap brand and (almost) comically large bottle size of vodka had been his drug of choice prior to treatment. The bottle was two-thirds gone. When I picked it up, I started having a panic attack. I took a huge slug of it - why did I do that? I have no idea. He rushed over to me and tried to comfort me by touching my arm and saying, “It’s okay. It’s okay.” I told him not to touch me. He tried again to touch my arm. I did something I haven’t done in twenty years of our relationship: I slapped him hard across the face. The slap was so hard it stung my hand. Immediately, he started weeping. He sounded like a little child. I felt like a monster. I ran downstairs to the spare room with the bottle in my hand and asked you guys for help.

- And then I received it. Thank you. And then I poured out the bottle. I wish I went to bed then, but I didn’t. After a couple hours, I went back upstairs and said very mean things to him. I cried my eyes out. He kept asking me to look at him, but when I did, he was too ashamed to look at me. I asked him if he knew this was the last time I ever sat on his bed and talked to him, what would he want to say? He just shook his head and cried more and said, “That I’m so, so sorry.” I left the room and went to bed.

- He did the rest in the next few days: he started going to AA, told me exactly where and how he had purchased the bottle and what had been going through his mind, detailing the cognitive dissonance between arguing with me through text and promising me he wasn’t in relapse all while literally holding a drink in his other hand. I kept away from him as much as I could. Over the next few days, he kept asking to speak with me, then asking if he could give me a hug, then if he could take me out for a walk or just watch a movie together. I said no, that I needed to focus on myself. He was very respectful and said that he understood I was hurt and that he’d be here for me when I was ready, and that he would focus on his recovery in the meantime.

- I focused on self care for myself. Thursday was lost to crying and cleaning house, but I still did it. On Friday, I was happy to be surrounded by friends at the grad BBQ. So many people turned up for us. Our house was completely packed and I felt so loved and supported by our community. On Saturday, I focused solely on my graduating daughter, and I let my husband and I share a sweet moment while we watched our eldest walk across the stage. On Sunday, I journaled in a cafe by myself, and then took my kids out to dinner and we talked about what had happened, but also about how great grad was. On Monday night, I took a long bath. Yesterday morning (Tuesday), I went for a long run and focused on catching up on work for the rest of the day. I am still struggling with guilt over hitting him, and the horrible things I said. I am still very scared that the cycle of addiction might start all over again. I’m so disappointed it happened again. I am scared my husband will die. If he keeps drinking, I know he will. At one point during this week, I really needed a hug but I wasn’t ready to ask him for one. I put my arms around myself instead, and told myself it was going to be okay and that I would always take care of me. That helped.

- After some space and self care, I felt okay enough to talk to him. I went up to our room yesterday morning and found him in a really low way. He had obviously just been crying and he was uncharacteristically still undressed and in bed, despite it being mid-morning.

A Big Speech That Somehow Landed

Yesterday morning, I told him that I don’t know why he self-sabotages by pushing me away while struggling, instead of sharing what he’s going through. But I told him that I have an idea (I’ve been doing IFS with my own therapist for years, so that is where this idea is coming from).

I told him that I believe there is a rebellious teen inside him who pushes me away because he believes he is still alone and unloved, just like when he was an actual teen being dismissed by parents and bullied by peers, and that that Teenage Part of him wants this belief to be proven right. That this inner teen tests me so he can say, “See? Nobody gives a shit. My parents didn’t, and she doesn’t. I don’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I do. I’m all alone anyway.”

I told him that Teenage Part is wrong, but that I love angry, hurting Teenage Part anyway, and all the other parts too. I said:

“I’m not talking to Middle-Aged You right now. I'm talking directly to that Teen Part of you, okay? Let me talk to him.

Okay: listen up, Teenage Part, you are such a little shit! Stop being mean and pushing me away! I know you think no one cares about you, but you’re wrong. I care deeply about you even when you are mean and dishonest. There is nothing you can do to change that. I love you always. I see you. I see how brave you are and how long you had to take care of yourself all by yourself. I see how you always had to protect yourself and stand up for yourself, and how you were punished for that, even when it meant your survival. I see how unfair it was. I see how you were just trying to protect Little Child Part, and how he is always trying to hide his feelings so people won’t reject him. But he was never too much. No part of you was ever annoying, or too loud, or embarrassing, or weird, or too emotional, or too sensitive, or tiring. Every part of you is adorable and bright and funny and so loving and absolutely wonderful. You wanted so badly to be accepted and approved of and for people to love you. Little Child You should never have been told to go play by yourself, or to be quiet. He should have been pulled onto laps and hugged and asked his opinion and told how special he is everyday. You should have been adored, because you are adorable. I adore you, every single part. I’m going to love you forever no matter what, Teenage Part. You are trying so hard to prove your own beliefs right, but there’s nothing you can do to change me into a person who does not love. You don’t have that power. I am a loving person, and I love you. You can’t hurt me enough to change who I am.

By this point, you are in my DNA. I don’t even have a choice whether to love you or not. I love you just like I love our children: completely and wholly, forever, no matter what, because they are them and you are you. I don’t love you because you are useful or because I need to or only if you behave in a way I approve of. I love you because I see who you are and it is so lovable. My soul will forever love your soul.

And it’s true that we may not be in a romantic relationship in the future - really, that is up to you. Because if you don’t love me properly, I can’t stay with you. I will always protect myself first. But I will never stop loving you, because you are so good and worthy and wonderful. You might as well give up the belief that you don’t matter, stop testing that theory, and just enjoy the small amount of time we have to share this life together.

This house is not the house you grew up in. Here, you can have more emotions than just sadness and anger. You can be a dork, you can be joyful, you can be funny, you can sing and dance and no one will make fun of you or think you’re embarrassing. We love embarrassing. We love passion. We love happiness. We love laughter and jokes. We cry and hold each other and then move on and we just feel closer afterwards. We can tell each other the dark thoughts rolling around our minds. You can tell me you want to drink and I’ll just say, yeah, I get that. I could really go for some consciousness-obliteration now and then, too. No big deal, what should we do instead? Here, you can be everything you already are, but you have to be you. You can’t let alcohol turn you into someone else. That guy doesn’t belong here. Only you."

He just cried silently. I asked him to please hug me, and he did. We held each other quietly for a very long time. I told him it was up to him to take care of the lonely, rejected little boy inside him, and the angry, self-destructive teenage. He nodded again and agreed. I reminded him that while those parts are still inside him, he is not a lost boy anymore. He is a strong, loving, kind and brave father who is excellent at providing for and protecting his family when he is sober and present. I told him he already has everything he needs to succeed - the resources, the community, the medical assistance, the insight, the training and coaching, the support, the love - and he agreed.

I went back to my home office to work. Later that day he told me that what I said meant more than he can explain and he thanked me. He repeated that he was going to keep combining AA meetings with first responder treatment centre alumni meetings and would focus more on self care and healthy mindset and avoiding the people and places that bring him down. He said he often looks a photo of me on his phone taken when I was a teen (we started dating and moved in together at only 18), and that he feels so much sorrow thinking about how young I was and how scary it must have been for that little girl to go through all this alone, because he knows she’s still inside me, too.

He told me again how he never thought he would relapse, and that it was really scary how quickly he lost control. How he’d been so cocky and sure that he would be the guy who never returned to the bottle following treatment.

I stayed in the guest bed again last night. I have no idea when I’ll return to our bedroom or be open to going on dates. It might be tomorrow, it might be weeks from now. I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. I’m focusing on me and he’s focusing on him and what will be will be. I will always be okay.

Two opposing truths:

I am a person with so much anger that she hits and insults someone even when they are at their lowest. And yet, it is this same anger that identified what I cannot accept in my life and motivated me to make the changes that ultimately led him to recovery in the first place. It is this same anger that continues to protect me.

I am a person who loves so deeply that I have let my heart be broken countless times by a man who struggles to love. And yet, it is same this love that allowed me to help him navigate the disability system and be a patient home base while he sought recovery. It is this same love that lets me soften when safe, hold myself close, forgive myself and others, and see humanity even when we look like monsters.

Faith Theory

I Didn’t Die. Thank You, Alanon.

Help me. Q relapsed after rehab