Normalization

What I'm about to write about has been circling in my head like a tornado most nights over the past several weeks. My sleep is so poor, and it's usually thinking about the events below that causes the insomnia.

Also, D's cousin has been a huge emotional support to me through this (at least the pieces she is aware of) and told me today, after I told her about the apartment fiasco from November, that I've normalized this entire situation so much that I can't see just how crazy it is.

So, this is meant to get OUT of my brain, hoping it will calm a bit, but also meant as a WTF am/was I thinking, any time I waiver about getting out of the relationship.

This is a quick top 10 of lovely memories I have of him drinking. Keep in mind that he wasn't diagnosed with bi-polar until 1.5 years ago. Prior to that, *some* of these events may have been exacerbated by mania. Regardless, they all happened when drinking. No particular order of severity, but I will try my best to put them in chronological order.

1) We'd been living together for about a year when I came home to our apartment, the door was open and he was no where to be found. Long story short, he'd drank a bottle of vodka, and decided to catch a flight to Florida, where he holed up in a motel room for several days. After much detective work, I found him, and he came home a few days later. No real explanation.

2) He fell, drunk, in the shower one night. Broke a couple of his toes, I think. He was so drunk I had to pull him out.

3)  I was out of town for work. I called his work to talk with him. His boss said he hadn't shown up. I flipped out. Another long story short, he'd gone on a binge while I was out of town, and failed to show up for work. Somehow, he kept that job.

4) Repeat of #3 above, but he lost that job. The incidents were within a year of each other.

5) I've bailed him out of jail 3 times, twice for DUIs and once for battery/bar fight.

6) About 7 years ago, I (thought) I'd had enough. Had made plans to take him to a 30 day inpatient facility about 3 hours away. It was the only inpatient our insurance would approve at the time. The plan was for me to work all day, return home to pick him up and then drive him to the rehab. I went home at lunchtime to make sure he was still on board. Dear lord, my fingers are shaking now as I type this. I found him passed out on the couch, arm hanging down, blood everywhere. It was already starting to coagulate. I called 911 and told them my husband had tried to commit suicide. They asked me if he was still breathing (how in the hell was I even HAVING this convo??). Yes, he was still breathing. I waited. I looked around. Our dining room floor was covered with blood. I found our dog, scared to death on our bed. I walked into the kitchen. The scene of the crime.  He had taken a cutting board, sharpened a butcher knife (the knife sharpener was still sitting there), and tried to cut his arm off. The injury was about mid-way up his forearm.

I know my husband. This wasn't neccesarily a suicide attempt, but more of an avoidant passive aggressive "I'm not going to treatment and you can't make me" behavior. Regardless, I can STILL hear the sirens as they got closer to our condo. Can remember cleaning up the blood after they had taken him to the ER.

My parents offered to pay for a divorce at this point. They had no idea of the alcohol issue, just thought he was "crazy." At the time, I thought they were cold and heartless.

7) It was finally to the point where I didn't trust him to drive. I would take him to work/pick him up from work. He called me one night from a bar, down the block from the restaurant where he worked. He was f'd up. Could hardly talk. I went to pick him up. Had to almost carry him out of the bar. I finally get him in the car, and home, and was not sure how he was going to get up 3 flights of stairs. He fell backward in our parking lot. Smashed a gash in his head. Blood everywhere (again). I ran upstairs to get a towel. I honestly can't remember how I got him into our condo. Superhuman strength? He bled through so many towels that night. It finally stopped.

8) His mom died when our babies were 6 weeks old. About 6 weeks after her death, he went to Florida (again). Didn't tell me. The only way I found out was b/c an airline reservation e-mail was sent to our joint e-mail account. He was gone for several days, leaving me alone to take care of twins that weren't even 3 months old, plus a daughter that was not yet 2. He came home set on not drinking again. But he started less than a week later. ***This is the story I told my mom this weekend, b/c she brought up the "remember when he disappeared to Florida not long after you met?" Yes mom, I remember, and guess what, he did it again leaving me with a toddler and two newborns. She had no idea.

9) Also after his mom died, in a drunken (and Ambien) stupor, he fell down a full flight of our stairs, to the basement. He passed out there until the next morning. I thought that fall might have killed him. Nothing broken.  God help me, I WANTED there to be something broken. He deserved it.

10) After we moved to our house, he was spending alot of time downstairs in our finished basement. He took a meal down one night, complete with a steak knife. Apparently, the knife slipped and gashed his hand. He woke me up, maybe about midnight, to let me know he couldn't stop the bleeding and had called 911. They took him away in the ambulance. he came back the next day, all stitched up.

He left blood all over our basement floor. There was blood all over the kitchen, and down the hallway to our bedroom. I had to clean it up, 7 months pregnant with twins (supposed to be on bedrest), before my toddler woke up to discover  her father's blood all over the floor.

Ok, there are my ten, and I didn't really have to think hard about them. If you are reading this you HAVE to be thinking WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE THINKING?????  This would be any normal persons response. You just get so caught UP in it. The illness, the taking care of, that at the time, it seems unfortunate, scary even, but somewhat normal.  It wasn't until his cousin pointed out today that he is a FELON (drunk driving and breaking and entering) that it really hit me.

ps. I just thought of #11, and it NEEDS to be here in black/white for me to remember. He really spiralled downhill after our first daughter was born. The change of bringing a newborn home was clearly to much for him. He was drinking all the time. His mother, ever the enabler, would BRING him bottles of wine. One night, he was holding S and it was her bedtime. He wouldn't give her to me. He said "she's mine." I played the innocent wife card, just trying to get her to safety. Yes, I know she's yours and she's so pretty, but it's time for her to go to bed. He.wouldn't.give.her.to.me. I was hysterical, almost shrieking. He wasn't trying to hurt her at all, but couldn't see the danger he was inadvertently putting her in. I finally just started clawing at him. Fingernail marks up and down his arms. I finally got her. NOW WHAT IN THE HELL DO I DO?  I was too scared to stay there. I called his mom, told her I needed to stay with her, packed up baby and left. I finally returned home later the next night. The only thing I can remember is him being so angry that I'd gone to his mom's house, "HIS family."

It's interesting, now that I'm reading these. Something just occured to me. These are clearly the most significant (at least to me, and I would assume to DH as well) events that occured from drinking. There are 2 friends that know about all of these. Wait, scratch that. NO ONE knows about #11. I think I tried to block it out myself. My point is, my two friends (also social workers like me) have talked over the years about what his bottom IS. You always here that in order for recovery to work, you have to hit bottom. Any ONE of these could have been someone's bottom, but not him. I kept thinking it can't get worse, but then it did.

What I just realized is how much I chose to accept/take before *I* hit bottom and am demanding a change.

pps. AND I just remember one more..our "babymoon" prior to our twins being born..we went to Florida. I wanted the beach one last time. He, of course, was drunk most of it. The key incident this time was the call I got about 1 am from hotel security. He was incoherant at the beach bar. They wanted me to come get him. I was 5 months pregnant. I threw on some shoes, went to "claim" him and begged for someone to help me get him to the room. Luckily, I was starting to look pregnant, so it didn't take too much begging. But, it took TWO very large bouncers to get him to our room, and THEy almost couldn't do it.