Loving an addict

In My Humble Opinion
1

How many here have loved/been in love (or are) with an addict? It is truly one of the most painful, heartbreaking experiences one can go through. It is the other side of addiction. While the addict will say nobody could ever know what they are going through, the person who loves them despite this horrible addiction could say the very same thing.

I have loved an addict. A heroin addict. And I’m sure as soon as many people hear that term “heroin addict”, certain images pop into their heads; what a heroin addict would be. I know I was guilty of this, prior to becoming entangled in the life of an addict. But addicts come in all shapes, sizes and appearances and some of the last people you’d ever think are actually the most hopeless addicts. I learned not to judge a person for their addiction. I know it’s easy to SAY this but to really realize it and mean it, for me, took this personal experience.

I got to know the person, the intelligent, witty, beautiful, good-natured girl who was truly struggling (valiantly) with a monster bigger than herself. And that is the tradegy. I loved the person, but the person is NOT THERE when they succumb to addiction. I met her when she was clean. And it was great, for both of us. But the demon that is heroin addiction never left her and she relapsed. And I lost the person I had come to know.

A addict, a true addict, lives to feed that addiction. With a heavy-using heroin addict, they can only go a few hours before they begin to experience withdrawal sickness so they are basically trapped in a never-ending cycle of “getting that next dose” just to keep the sickness away. And when that withdrawal hits, the DRUG is the most important thing in the world. Even more important than their loved ones, their mother, their children. This is the demon that lives inside every heroin addict.

Of course the addicts KNOW what they are doing, they know that getting that next dose instead of feeding their child is terrible, horrible child abuse; but THAT is how strong the clutch can be. And this, in turn, feeds into more hopelessness and depression which feeds the addiction even more. They often would just rather die anyway.

There is no relationship, no bond between people, that is stronger than heroin. An addict will tell you anything to suit their needs. But how do you just turn your back on someone that you care for? You know they are out there dying a slow death, how can you just cut them out and end things? THAT is the true tragedy of loving an addict. Your damned if you do and your damned if you don’t. In the end, for my sanity and well-being, I HAD to let her go. But it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I truly believe heroin will kill her. She tried rehab, did methadone therapy (that is scary, fucked up shit right there) and suboxone therapy. Everything will work for awhile but, like most heroin addicts, her recovery never lasted. I say the drug will kill her because in order to successfully beat it I believe you need certain things in your life. Things like a positive family support structure, hope, confidence and resources. She had none of these things.

I guess I’m writing all of this because I want to know if there is anyone else with experiences of having an addict as a loved one and how they coped.

2

Lots of folks have that experience. I know many of them.

Here’s a link: http://www.recoverymoz.com/IP-No-3-So-You-Love-An-Addict-t25040.html

there’s lots more out there. Just google the phrase “so you love an addict” or visit al-anon or nar-anon’s websites for more info.

And opiate addicts can and do get better. I know. I’m clean over 21 years.

3

That is amazing, wonderful and inspiring news, dear Dr. Qadgop! I always thought you were special. You are.

Jamie, your story is heartbreaking. My story isn’t as wretched as yours, but I experienced plenty of misery.

4

My beloved Mig is an alcoholic. He won’t get help because he thinks a drunk is someone who can’t function, and he works every day. He still claims he has no problem, but most everyone around him can see he does indeed have a problem.

It sucks.

I never know how to take him. I mean, he is a sweet man, very passionate and kind. But he’s also really sensitive and gets his feelings hurt easy. He fights the alcohol but some days, some more often than others, he loses the fight. He’s not abusive or anything. He’s just loud and sloppy and incredibly amorous. Of course I’m so disgusted by his behavior I am not interested. And of course he takes this rejection hard and so he’ll take it out on me by saying ugly things and doing stupid things.

I have learned how to deal with it, but honestly I don’t want to deal with it anymore. We have a child with special needs who adores her daddy, so it’s not that simple. I recognize that I make excuses for his behavior. I understand why he has these struggles. He’s been drinking since birth, when his father gave him pulque to get him to sleep at night. He never went to school. His parents sent him off to work instead, so he’s been working since age eight. He’s traveled across two countries to find a better life, but his life here sucks just as bad. Even so, that’s no excuse for killing yourself with alcohol.

Years ago I had a friend who became addicted to crack. She used me, stole from me, and left her child with me so she could prostitute herself for more crack. She had me hide his Christmas presents so she wouldn’t sell them, but she’d come over late at night demanding them. She only got clean when she found out she had ovarian cancer. She had a few good clean years before she passed away, but years of drug abuse left her . . . different I guess. She was very self-absorbed and irresponsible and insulting towards her family up until the end.

My new roommate was addicted to heroin when he was 14 years old. He’s 22 now and clean. I know it can be overcome, but I can’t imagine. It was hard enough for me to quit smoking cigarettes!

5

My husband is a recovering heroin addict. I won’t go too much into how much of a nightmare it was…You seem to know about that nightmare. Lots of rehabs and broken promises, hospitalizations, suicide attempts…many ugly scenes. Finally, I had enough. After the last rehab he wasn’t welcome to come home. He had to make his own arrangements, and he wound up living in a halfway house for awhile. It was a really terrible one, too. It was in a bad neighborhood, easy to get drugs, but also easy to get kicked out of the home if you did.

Something seemed to change in him at that point. He went to meetings every day. He was just so sick of the person he had become. So was everybody.

Long story short. He did get clean from that point on, and it’s been over 3 years now. Do we have issues now? Yup. Lots! But he’s clean and sober, and he’s my friend and partner again. Lots of times I wonder if it was worth it. What if it happens again? I am still angry sometimes.

One thing to remember is Nothing changes if Nothing changes.

6

My most recent ex had a psychological addiction to weed. Along with that, he had a pathological need to tell everyone within earshot what a panacea it was for everything (very, very obnoxious). He also liked to talk grandiosely (is that a word?) about his long-term life plans, which changed often–some days he wanted to operate a hot dog cart on the beach in Chicago, others he wanted to move to Michigan or Oregon or California for the medical weed. And he wanted me to come with him… whatever. I humored his high-talk far longer than I should have. We dated for 7 months, and I watched as his small business and relationships deteriorated before his eyes as he became less and less rational over time.

His mom (did I mention he lived with his mom at age 33?) got pissed because he would smoke in the house while she was at work. Once he even smoked IN HER CAR, when he borrowed it while his was getting repaired. I was in her car with him at the time, it was only for a short drive. He didn’t NEED to do it, it’s not like he would have even lost his buzz. I said I didn’t think it was a very good idea. She was a nonsmoker (no weed, no cigs) and her nose was obviously more sensitive than his. He drove around a bit to air it out, and didn’t smell any residual odor when he shut the door, but she certainly did later that day.

He also ran his own small business. He called himself a caterer. It was more like corporate party planning. He didn’t actually make any food himself, he would call around to places like Panera and Jamba Juice and arrange for them to make food at a certain date and time. Then he’d charge a fat commission on top of the normal restaurant food fees to pick it up from the restaurants and deliver it. I have no idea how he found customers. He pocketed most of his commissions without paying taxes, since many of his customers paid cash, and only tracked sales tax on the food he resold (which the customer was paying for anyway). His books were so fucking cooked. He claimed a loss for three straight years, while pocketing enough to enable a $300 weekly weed habit, on top of other fripperies (WoW subscription, internet, hdtv, gas to drive all the fuck over creation while he smoked, new laptop). I didn’t ask him a lot of questions about it but I felt uncomfortable every time he brought up his " business."

The incident that ended our relationship was… well, indicative. Or eventual. Everything’s eventual. I wasn’t even there when it happened, this was all relayed to me secondhand. His brother was laid up with a busted knee for a couple weeks, which he got when he tripped onstage during choir practice (he’s an opera singer for the Chicago Lyric–cool guy). He was staying with his mom instead of at his condo, because he was having trouble with stuff–understandable, he’s a big awkward guy with a big awkward set of crutches. My ex was home that day too, and got irritated because his brother kept asking for ice and help getting to and from the bathroom. He pulled out a kitchen mallet and threatened to hit him if he didn’t pestering him. Their mom basically ordered him out of the house, at which point he started emailing me (I was at work). He told me about the whole thing and didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. He painted himself as the victim. At that point I realized he was never going to realize that he was the cause of his own problems, and I broke up with him. Never saw him again.

There is a whole lot else that I can’t bear to rehash in detail; suffice to say that he was emotionally abusive and would cry at the drop of a hat. I couldn’t bring up a single concern about our relationship without him crying and telling me how “accusing” him of *x *reminded him of his ex-wife :rolleyes:. I wasn’t accusing him of anything, I am a collaborative conflict-resolver. But he would not hear a negative word against himself as anything other than an all-out unjustified war against his character and integrity and perfection and blah blah blah. Every minor issue became a personal attack on him. In our 7 months together, he never once made an effort at conflict-resolution–he liked to talktalktalk until I just shut up because he wouldn’t stop fucking running over me and talktalktalking. He preferred pretending that conflict didn’t exist, convincing me that conflict didn’t exist, and it was just my irrational ladybrain stirring up shit where nothing was actually wrong. In the end I started to doubt myself. At that point I knew I had to get out, nobody had ever made me think I might actually be crazy before.

That was an all-around difficult situation, because I was co-dependent and unwilling to speak up for myself. And I smoked weed too (although to a **much **smaller degree, and only on weekends). I still would smoke weed, if I could find it around here. But he got totally fucking **consumed **by it. As far as I’m concerned, his addiction destroyed all of his relationships, and potentially his business (it was floundering when I left him, since IMO expensive business lunches are one of the first things cut when budgets are tight). When I broke up with him, he was upset. Luckily, he didn’t threaten or try to blackmail me; I think in the back of his mind (whatever rational bits he still possessed) he kinda knew it was coming. In the last email he sent me, he said I was a good person… but I couldn’t in good conscience say the same thing back. We’ve been no-contact ever since.

Occasionally I wonder if he’s still alive. He was definitely a suicide risk, and toward the end he was crying almost every day about something. I thought about sending a letter to his mom about how serious his problem really is (he tried to hide it), and that by letting him live with her she was enabling him by proxy. Oh well, not my problem anymore. I tried to get him to counseling but he was convinced he didn’t need it–because the weed was his medication, you see. He also complained that counseling was too expensive, and because he ran his own business, he didn’t have health insurance. HELLO! When you’re spending $300 a week on top-shelf marijuana, I’d think you could set aside a little to talk to a psychologist–unless your priorities are seriously fucked up.

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Accidental double post deleted. — Ellen Cherry

8

My experience with my dad’s alcoholism is pretty close to Rushgeekgirl’s.

I hate the fact that I know my dad is strong, smart, caring and fun to be around. Except for when he’s drunk (which is most of the time now). He’s also addicted to pain pills now due to spine problems, but it’s hard to know where the alcohol stupids stop and the vicodin stupids begin.

If I didn’t love him so much and know what sort of person he was capable of being, I wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t make me angry. But I do and it does.

9

I’ve given up morphine and its relatives, along with alcohol and nicotine. Nicotine was in many ways the hardest.

10

I’ve loved alcoholics, compulsive over-eaters, and a cocaine user. What I learned from Al-Anon: the addict has to want to be clean for him/herself; not for someone else, but for him/herself. And a great part of wanting that is learning that it’s not only okay, but a really good thing, to love themself.

Additionally, my experience has been that recovery won’t “stick” unless the addict believes they deserve to be healthy and to live. When someone confessions to me their addiction, I often ask them, “Who told you you don’t deserve to live the best life possible, and why do you still believe them?”

Best wishes for everyone who seeks recovery. Regards,

11

My experience is simliar.

When I was kicking, at least I could keep my hands busy with the cigarette and the nicotine seemed to help.

BTW, I have been clean 24 years TODAY! 22 years off cigarettes.

12

My brother is much older than me and grew up with a different father than I did. By that, I mean he knew Dad when he was sober. My brother is much closer to him than I am because of this, which is okay, because we tagteam the parents - I take Mom.

My Dad used to be this amazing guy that advocated in local politics and played in a band. I wish I knew that man. Dad’s been sober about 2-3 years now, shortly after I moved out. It’s great to see him sober, but the damage has been done.

Me growing up and moving out was the best thing for our relationship. I don’t live in fear of him trying to get into the car drunk and I don’t worry that he’s going to pass out.

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Congrats! How’d you do that?

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Thanks! One day at a time!

15

Are you sure it’s vicodin? Because that is really really bad. Alcohol + any opiates is bad enough, but vicodin also has acetaminophen in it. Alcohol + acetaminophen will shred his liver. If he is in fact taking vicodin and you can’t get him to quit either habit, you should at least try to get him to switch to another pain-killer that DOESN’T have acetaminophen.

16

My ex-fiance was (and for all I know, still is) a crack addict.

It was a nightmare. I’m still recovering, financially and emotionally, from that four years.

There is nothing, NOTHING, in this world for a crack addict but the next fix. They will say anything they can, work any angle they can find, to get their next hit. You cannot rely on any word out of their mouth. And the recovery rate is abysmal.

I also believe that he was a psychopath - either because of the addiction, or in addition to it. He was incredibly charming and charismatic, and always knew exactly what to say and do and when to say it and do it in order to “make things better.” But again, not a single word or action was reliable.

I found a lot of help from the discussion forums and other resources on Crack Reality.

17

He calls it Vicodin. I suppose I could look at the bottle. Pretty sure that’s what it is.

Yeah it’s awful what he does. I don’t think he tells his doctor, either, so the doctor might not be monitoring his liver.

I’ll bring this up to him, and bring up his two new baby granddaughters too.

18

I broke up with him tonight. He’s in jail and he totaled our car while under the influence. My six year old daughter saw the wreck because we were behind him. It’s pure luck that he didn’t hit my older daughter’s car. When I was standing there waiting for the cops I fainted in the street. It was about 98 degrees and I was already having a panic attack. My little girl saw that too, and I saw her scared little face and I knew this has to end. I love him, but I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know what we’ll do. He’s left me in such a position with his dog collecting (we have four, two are pits I can’t handle, I just feed through the fence), no car, no money, no rent and it’s due next week. A whopper of a light bill, and STILL called and yelled at me tonight because I can’t come bail him out. I can’t. I have no money. I’ve been living in this hell for eight years. He doesn’t want me to work so I haven’t worked outside the house. I don’t have any decent clothes and I can’t get my license renewed until I get my glasses replaced. I have never been in a situation like this in my life but I’m sick to death of living this way. I just need to find some work. I don’t know who would hire me. I have few marketable skills and I’m fat and forty. And I have such bad anxiety I try to stay home in my cave as much as possible.

And now he’s calling, cussing because I won’t come bail him out. I don’t have any money. I don’t know that I’d bail him out if I DID. I just want to have a normal life, the life I had before I met him. I think even if he was dead I wouldn’t be this torn up.

Thanks for starting this thread. It has helped me to write it all down. I’m not panicking so much now. I’m starting to feel angry instead of distraught. I’m just concerned about how it will be if he finds someone else to bail him out. I don’t like confrontation. He wouldn’t hurt me. Worse, he’ll be repentant and pitiful. I’ll stutter and cry and get weak. And I do love him, or I love what he used to be. I looked at his mugshot on the jail website. He has so many charges, and on top of all that he refused a BAC test. No license, no insurance, public intoxication, DUI. He looks like a different person. He’s not that guy I fell in love with. I mean, he drank even back then but not like this. And the pot, and he gets some special kind, I think he calls it coosh? It stinks. I don’t let him smoke it anywhere near the house but I smell it on him. I know it’s not as big a deal in some places but in TN it is. And he’s already got a court date in August for possession (a roach in his pocket was enough to get him taken to jail), so this added to it will just add to his jail time. Why would I bail him out when he’s caused all this grief for us? And my little girl is asking when we’re going to get him. SHe saw them put cuffs on him and take him away. I don’t want her having these bad memories.

19

:eek:

(((Rushgeekgirl)))

I wish that I knew exactly the right thing to say and/or that I could send you all the money you need right now, but I can’t do either. :frowning:

I do know from my own experience and those of others that you have to end it with him. Having an enabler doesn’t help him, as much as you may want it to or think it does. Let him hit bottom. Please.

Take care of yourself and your daughter.

20

That totally sucks, Rushgeekgirl. :frowning: I’m not sure what orginizations in Memphis can help, but help is out there.

I spent eight years with an alcoholic who had done heroin before we had ever met. Toward the end of our relationship, he got back on the needle. That’s when I knew it was time to go. Even though I had left by then, when he got to the point of rehab (it was through the VA), his kids and I all went to the family care part of it. He’s been clean and sober now for sixteen years. We have a friendship at this point that I never thought possible before.

Learning to detatch during the hardest parts was intregal to keeping my own sanity throughout the whole mess. Al-Anon helped. New friends helped (sometimes, you can get to the point that you’ve pretty much abandoned your clean, sober, responsible friends for the ones who would put up with the addicted partner’s behavior). Supportive family helped.

Loving (and leaving) an addict is likely one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but given that it didn’t kill me, I’m now a stronger person for it. jamie, you’ve experienced this hearbreak, but it sounds like you did the smart thing, as much as it hurt at the time. May you live to love again, this time to someone who can return that love in a healthy form.