All in the family...

Riley and I were talking – more like me reminding him that his health is failing. It diverted to him telling me that he can’t help it – it’s not his fault. He doesn’t like beer but he absolutely MUST drink it because he is an alcoholic. So why drink something you don’t even like? Why not drink vodka? He says because he has to drink the beer because he is an alcoholic. He doesn't want vodka because he will die sooner. I know and understand it’s a vicious circle. OK. Nothing new there.

The subject continues to get diverted to the people he will leave in his wake after his death. He doesn’t understand why anyone would care what he does. He feels nothing for the people who claim to be his family. He tells each of them, his daughter, grandson, and the great-grandbabies, that he loves them. But how can that be?? He tells me he has no feelings for them. I truly believe he is incapable of love. He knows he must go through the motions of loving in order to be acceptable in society – but the real feelings are just not there. I doubt he has ever truly loved anyone – ever – except MAYBE, possibly, his first wife.

I do understand that in Riley’s childhood things like the word “love” just never came up. His childhood was filled with useful, practical, essential things. Love wasn’t on the list. He learned at an early age that love wasn’t a necessity – and in fact – it was a bit of a bother.

Family – according to Riley -- his family is his brother and his oldest son (my stepson) because they share his bloodline. I guess his daughter (actually his step-daughter from before her first birthday) and grandson hold no importance to him. I understand why he doesn’t consider me as family – but the people who have looked after him, cared for him, cleaned up his vomit and poop, picked him up off the floor, provided a safe haven for him, and defended him when others put him down – those people are of little to NO importance. He has no feelings for us – except maybe contempt for trying to get him sober and, by default, keep him alive.

Riley says he has no choice but to die via alcohol, although he claims alcohol will not kill him. I tell him that’s not true. He will die of alcoholism and he does have a choice. He could try detox one more time. He could try rehab one more time. He could try sobriety one more time. He could out live all of us people that he has so much contempt for. He could possibly live long enough to repair his relationship with his oldest son. He could…. But he’s an alcoholic and can’t see past that.

He repeats that he chooses death over sobriety.

So one of the people he cares about is his brother. I like his brother very much. He is a fine man who sees clearly what Riley is doing to himself. He has grieved and suffered while watching Riley destroy his life. This man’s wife has held his hand and offered comfort and support. The big difference between Riley and his brother is that his brother truly loves his wife and children. His brother has the ability to feel emotion. I’m not sure if it was always that way for him, but his wife fits him perfectly and their marriage is strong and loving. It shows when they are together. And the love they share for their three boys is also very obvious. It makes me wonder if Riley’s brother grew up in the same house as Riley.

Riley’s oldest son stopped talking to him many, many years ago. He wants nothing to do with him and refuses any contact what so ever. This young man has been burned so many times by alcoholism – his mother – his brother – his step-brother -- all have died as a result of alcoholism. I can understand perfectly why he would not want to have anything to do with his father. Never mind the fact that his father abandoned him when he was just a young boy. He has a well-deserved axe to grind.

It is interesting that Riley denies abandoning any of his children. Well, he paid child support. Is that the same thing? Riley never played catch with any of the kids, never took them camping, never took them to the museum nor did he ever attend any functions that included the kids playing in the band or singing in the choir. Except --- Alea – she and Riley had a special bond because she was always pushing the envelope. They were each others alibi. They protected each other. He taught her to lie and sneak around. The result for me was the constant fear of what was happening to my daughter as she took those skills into her very rebellious teenage years. And now, he says he has no feelings for her. She is not really his blood therefore she is not his family.

I’m struggling.  Everyday it’s more and more of a struggle to keep in mind that my motivation was to protect my daughter from taking on a drunk who has no concern for what damage he may cause her life. The important thing for him is that he has someone to take care of him as he dives into alcoholic suicide. It really doesn’t matter who. He just needs someone to find the body.

Life in denial...

I live in Denial, NC. It’s just a small town but it has a large population of people who refuse to admit or accept that things are not as they should be. I should run for Mayor because I probably hold the most denial points than anyone else in town.

Yesterday I found myself lying at the bottom of the back steps, denying that I needed any help getting back into the house. I had gone outside to get the trash can ready to go to the street for pick-up. I was about to step down to the next step, but my foot hit a beer can and I tumbled down three brick steps and landed on my side on the concrete driveway.

Riley came to the door and asked if he could help me. I told him that he couldn’t even help himself get up – there was no way he could help me. That’s true – it’s not denial. He has no body strength and expecting him to help me back up the stairs would just have been a frustrating adventure for both of us. So he watched me.

I managed to crawl around to the stair railing and pull myself up to a place where I could hop on one foot up the steps and into the house. I managed to fix an ice pack and went to my office where I could put my foot up and ice it down. It’s not broken – but it’s probably sprained. I didn’t want to go to the emergency room because there really isn’t much they can do – x-ray, ace bandage, and ice packs. I’ve had sprained ankles before and that’s always the drill. I can do that myself. I’m not denying their help – just denying that I NEED their help.

As I chastised myself throughout the day for not being more observant – the stark cold truth hit me right between my eyes. I know and accept that I’m 62 years old – not much of a spring chicken anymore. But, for some reason I deny that I can’t do all the things that a 23 year old can do. I expect a lot from myself and I expect that I can do it all right now – right this very minute. I come from a long line of really tough women. I believe I’m just as tough as Gramma who had a terrific vegetable and flower garden until she was well into her 70s – and she depended on no one to help with watering and weeding – which she did daily. My mother was in her 60s when she went back to college and earned a 4.0 average. And -- she did it while growing an acre of black-eyed peas and selling them for extra money. I deny that I can’t follow in their footsteps.

I’m in denial that I’m blind in one eye and have no depth perception – the beer can that I tripped over was only a part of the problem. I deny that I couldn’t see the beer can because of my faulty eyesight. I deny that my knees don’t work well on stairs so that I have to take them slowly, one at a time. I deny that I needed any help back into the house or that I might need medical attention. And, I deny that I’m in denial about why I fell.

I have other denial attributes. I deny that I can’t cook a balanced meal every single night. I deny that I need help cleaning the house or tending the yard – well maybe not that one so much as that I deny that my budget doesn’t allow for the professional help I don’t deny I need. I deny that Riley will live another two years.

I’m not the only one who lives in this town. My friend denies that she has to make a decision about her marriage. My aunt denies she ever had a drinking issue. My neighbor denies that his dog should be spayed. My boss denies that I’m being set up for failure.  My internet provider denies that their version of high-speed is as slow as a turtle crossing the highway. Riley denies that his beer drinking is what causes his daily vomiting.

Ok. Here’s the deal. I will no longer deny that I can’t do everything I used to do. I will try to accept the fact that it takes me all week to clean the house – because I must do it one room a day. I will try to accept the fact that I must hold on to the railing while going down the steps. I will try not to take it for granted that the steps will be clear of other objects, such as beer cans. I will try not to deny that I have unrealistic expectations of my abilities.

Riley’s denial will continue. He will deny that beer is as bad for him as vodka. He will deny that he needs to shower more often than once a year. He will deny that he’s vomiting daily. He will deny that needs to wear a diaper. He will deny that he can’t walk from one room to another without holding onto something solid. He will continue to deny that he is killing himself.

The big difference between me and Riley is that I can use my denial to my advantage by recognizing it and using it to determine what I must change. I can use it as a tool for self-preservation. The trick is being observant and objective enough to see it for what it is. Sometimes that means taking a fall down the back steps because I denied opening my eyes to the reality of my denial – which was to open my eyes and see what was in front of me.

Pass the popcorn...

I had a heard a lot of good things about the Hallmark movie depicting Lois Wilson’s life as the wife of Bill W, the founder of Alcoholics Anonymous. With a star like Wynona Rider playing Lois, I expected to be blown away by The Lois Wilson Story, When Love Is Not Enough. There I go with those expectations again!!

Wynona did a wonderful job portraying a woman dedicated to “standing by her man.” But, I was not even once drawn to tears or screamingly angry by any of the characters, situations or end result. It was interesting and informative. It was just something to watch when there’s nothing else on TV. I was disappointed.

I really think Hallmark missed the mark on this one. It could have been so much more. There was an opportunity to show exactly what it is like to be the caretaker of an end-stage alcoholic. Bill W was near death before he found his way to sobriety. But, I didn’t really get that from watching the movie. I simply saw Bill W not breathing and Lois telling him he was killing himself.

When I watch Grey’s Anatomy, I see blood and guts. When I watch Intervention, I see vomiting and filth. And that’s just on TV.  Movies have a much greater license to be realistic. I think I was missing that realism.

There were some good things about the movie. I liked the way Lois showed that Bill had shifted addictions from alcohol to alcoholics. She clearly portrayed something that often has befuddled many spouses. When the alcoholic finds sobriety, the spouse thinks everything will be “normal.” But, in fact, what often happens is the alcoholic swaps one addiction for another. It’s difficult to deal with. I can even remember asking Riley, “When will it be my turn?” just as Lois asked Bill. This in fact did hit home.

I also liked Lois’ mother’s death bed scene. Her mother advises her to make a life for herself. She states that Lois can stay with Bill, but still have her own life. That advice is something I have said over and over. Find your passion. Figure out who you are as an individual. Then, be true to who you are.

Another aspect that I liked was learning how Al-Anon actually came about. For some reason, I never saw it in quite that way. It almost started by accident. A hospitable Lois saw the spouses in their cars, waiting for their alcoholic husbands, and invited them into her home. What started with coffee and conversation ended up being Al-Anon. I appreciated the information and found it to be interesting.

Riley has read many books on how AA was formed and the journey of Bill W and Dr. Bob. He agreed that Bill W was, at one point, end-stage. He told me that, in his opinion, there are better movies out there that clearly depict end-stage. He suggested that I watch “Days of Wine and Roses.” I saw that movie, many, many years ago when it was first out. I remember almost none of it. I have ordered it and am eagerly waiting for it to arrive in my mailbox.

I’ve decided to watch the most popular movies on alcoholism and see which ones I think have the most accurate portrayal of end-stage and their caretakers. There really are a lot of good movies out there, such as… “Clean and Sober”; “When a Man Loves a Woman”; “Morning After” are just to name a few. But, even though I’ve seen them before, I don’t remember much of about them.

I’ve stocked up on popcorn and Milk Duds and I’m ready. I’ll review the movies in my blog. Please comment with your movie suggestions and I’ll watch them. This is going to be fun!

Sacrifices...

A friend told me she went on a little week-end vacation to a place that's just a couple hours from her house. She left her alcoholic husband at home. He is NOT end-stage, but he is heading in that direction. At about 1 a.m. on the first night, he called because he had passed out in the driveway and was too drunk to get into the house. She called her son who lived down the street. He rushed out to help his father.

When she told me about it I said… What??? You woke up your son to take care of his father who was in a drunken state?? I don’t know about you… but it seems to me, the alcoholic was sober enough hit all the right tiny little buttons on the phone… surely he could manage putting his keys into the door locks. Oh… he was too drunk to walk?? Was he too drunk to crawl??

This, in my opinion, is a case of the non-alcoholics taking away an opportunity for the alcoholic to face the consequences of his own actions. If it had been me in that situation, I would have told him that he would have to figure it out for himself. I would have left him in the driveway. I know he would call every 5 minutes, but I would have turned my phone off. I know the neighbors would call the police when they saw him passed out in the driveway and I’m thankful for their concern. I would have nothing for which to be embarrassed because I was not the one passed out in the driveway.

Of course, the next day, the alcoholic remembered very little of what had transpired the night before. So what did he learn – nothing. If he had awakened in the driveway – he might have learned something. If he never has to face how bad his drinking is, how will he ever understand how bad it is? There are consequences, but his wife and son didn’t allow him to have any because they removed them. Therefore, the consequences went to the wife – who spent her first night away worrying about her husband – and the son – who got out of his nice warm bed to physically get his father into the house. For the husband there was no consequence and no bad memory. How can that be right?

The wife and son must learn detachment. This is the only way we non-alcoholics can continue to have a life of our own. Detachment frees us from the chaos created by the alcoholic’s unreasonable demands. It also frees us from the fear that anyone who knows us will lump us into a package deal of insanity. It’s hard to not care about what others think – it’s almost unnatural. But, non-alcoholics must develop a thick skin and the ability to separate personas. If a neighbor asks about the incident, a response such as “Well, yes, it’s unfortunate that he drinks so much. Thank you for your concern.” But, don’t take ownership of the drunk’s actions. You did nothing wrong – you have nothing to be ashamed of or to have to explain.

In another case, a woman’s very end-stage mother lives with her. The mother is classic in that she sleeps in the day and is awake most of the night. The mother wakes up the daughter throughout the night making it impossible for the daughter to sleep. The daughter gets up and makes the mother a drink hoping it will be enough to get the mother to go back to sleep. The daughter knows she must sleep, but can’t ignore her mother’s calls for her to join her.

I believe, somewhere in the alcoholic haziness, it may be how they can have control of something in their lives. They have no control over the alcohol, but they can control what the non-alcoholic does be using the fear that something may be wrong. So when the alcoholic calls out, we respond because the alcoholic might be physically hurt and in need of assistance. Maybe it’s not the complicated. Maybe it’s as simple as the alcoholic is miserable and misery loves company that is also miserable.

If I were the daughter, I would firmly tell the alcoholic that I am going to bed now and do not wake me up. I would put a note someplace where the alcoholic would see it – do not wake me up. Then, because the alcoholic will ignore the notes, when she calls to me, I would call back asking what she wants. If she is not in peril, I would tell her I was not coming to help her. After that, I would lock my door, turn on my sleep music and attempt to go back to sleep. She will call again because she has no short-term memory. But, I would not respond. I might not be able to go back to sleep, but I would stay in my room and let her do whatever she is going to do. Once the pattern is established that I will not come to her in the middle of the night – maybe she will stop calling out. It might take a few nights for the message to sink in.  If she doesn’t stop, maybe I will get used to it and be able to ignore it.

If that scenario doesn’t work and the alcoholic is still interrupting the non-alcoholic’s sleep, I think I would do my best to hire someone to come in and spend four to six hours a night with the alcoholic. In essence, get a baby-sitter. Even four hours of uninterrupted sleep is better than eight hours with intermittent ups and downs.

As non-alcoholic’s we sacrifice ourselves for the safety of the alcoholic. The wife sacrificed her vacation, the daughter sacrificed sleep. But, the sacrifice doesn’t serve us well. We gain nothing except frustration when we run to the rescue of those who refuse to rescue themselves. I know that the caretakers of end-stage alcoholics must do the task of “taking care.” But, if we don’t take care of ourselves there won’t be anyone left to do the caretaking of the alcoholic.

Upgrading the rules...

I used to have 12 Rules for Living My Life. But, as I have been writing and learning and listening, I realize that 12 is just not enough. I've upgraded my 12 to 21. Maybe that's too many, but I don't see any on the list that I would want to eliminate. So.... here's the newly revised list:

21 Rules for Living My Life

1.                Make your own happiness… you’re the only one responsible for it;

2.                If a door shuts… learn to pick locks so you can open another;

3.                If someone is rude… kill them with kindness;

4.                Take care of your health… so you don’t create an unexpected loss;

5.                Do it yourself… don’t depend on others to fix your life – they have their own to fix;

6.                Plan for the future or the end… relieve loved ones of the heavy burden of wondering what you want;

7.                Learn tact and diplomacy… tell the truth but choose your words carefully;

8.                Value your friends… if you don’t, who will bail you out of jail?

9.                Value your family… they may not bail you out of jail, but they will love you in spite of your indiscretions;

10.            Do the best you can with what you have… even if it’s not much;

11.            If someone hurts you… find a way to get even – in a classy lady-like way, of course;

12.            Life is short… tell your family and friends you love them as often as possible because there may not be a tomorrow;

13.            Respect your elders… they hold wisdom;

14.            Protect and direct the youngsters… growing up is hard work;

15.            Do not deny anger… channel that energy into a productive endeavor;

16.            Never engage or promote physical violence… no one ever learned anything good from a beating;

17.            Have realistic expectations… expect nothing and you’ll never be disappointed;

18.            Ask for what you want… those who don’t ask don’t get;

19.            Share your knowledge… helping others is the only true way to make order out of chaos.

20.            Accept others for what and who they are in spite of differences… I don’t have to love everything about what you do to love you.

21.            Do unto others… as you would have them do unto you;

All rules are subject to change without notice…

Buddy T -- Thank you

I thought it was Syd who gave me the tip on Wax Myrtle Trees. But it was Buddy T of http://www.about.alcoholism.com/ who gave the suggestion. Thanks. I'm taking you up on that. Today Buddy T has a great article on black outs and brain damage. Be sure to check it out.

Finding sobriety...

There is amusement within the absurdity of alcoholism. For some reason, I’m not sue what, I was reminded this weekend of a statement that Riley had made quite some time ago. It was before he had the stroke that lead to his last detox. It was when he was drinking almost a gallon of vodka a day.

“New Beginnings” is a substance abuse help center serving the local area. My grandson, Ryan, and his mother, Alea, were discussing it as an option for one of Ryan’s friends. Riley got in on the tail end of the conversation and thought they were talking about him. He was adamant that I should take him right away to talk to the counselors at the center.

We tried to explain that it was not a rehab center – it was a resource center. We offered to find him a detox, rehab center if that was what he wanted. He did not want to detox. He wanted to talk to the counselors because he knew they would have the answer to his question. And what question would that be??

“I want them to tell me how I can maintain sobriety and still drink my vodka.”

Stunned… we all looked at each other and someone said… “Isn’t that called an oxymoron?” Riley was looking at us… waiting for a confirmation that he had finally found a way to make everyone happy. He was too fuzzy to recognize the comment about the oxymoron. Someone replied that one of us would be a happy to take him to the center and find out what if they could answer his question.

Riley left the room and we all just kinda gazed at each other as we sat around the table. It was Ryan who made the first sound… “Uhhh… well… awrighty then…” We all broke out in laughter. There really wasn’t much to say, we just enjoyed the moment of comic relief.

I made the appointment for Riley to talk to a counselor. Bless her heart, she tried – and she tried some more – to make sense of what he was asking. By my barometer, she was young – no more than 35 which is young to someone who is 60. But, she was also experienced and educated. You could tell she had dealt with some hard and fast addicts in her job. She knew her stuff.

The counselor suggested that he get sober and then find his own answer to his question. He insisted that he didn’t want to stop drinking, he just wanted to know how to stay sober. He didn’t want to detox because detoxing was not fun. He didn’t want to go to rehab and he didn’t want anything to do with AA. He just wanted to be sober and keep drinking.

As the appointment came to a close, I realized that she never told him he could not be sober and still drink. She never told him he could either. What she said was that maybe, if he wanted to gradually cut back on his consumption, he could be more sober than he was currently without going to detox or rehab. But, she stressed that he would have to want it more than anything he had ever wanted in his entire life. She wished him luck and said he was welcome to return whenever he wanted to talk. As we were walking to the door, she said to me, in a low voice, “You have your hands full with this one. Come in if you need some support.” I nodded in the affirmative.

It was almost three weeks to the day that Riley had the stroke that sent him to his last detox. A few days after that… I started writing this blog.

Someone asked me if it is possible for an alcoholic to gain sobriety without going to an in-house rehab center. My answer is… for someone who is not end-stage that is possible if they have the determination and a strong support system. If they do not need medical detox, they can achieve sobriety. But the odds are not in their favor. Long-term sobriety is most often attained by committing to a treatment center that offers care even after the alcoholic has graduated back into society. The longer the in-house stay, the more likely the alcoholic will stay sober.  And the rehab center must provide a solid program for the family of the alcoholic. Everyone needs to heal. So the answer is yes, but not likely.

I think we non-alcoholics sometimes forget how strong the pull is between the bottle and the alcoholic. Something we take for granted is so very fleeting and elusive for them. For us, it’s a no-brainer. For them, it’s like climbing the north face of Mt. Everest. And to make matters worse – there is nothing we can do about it.

Have you ever seen one of those giant magnets that are attached to the boom of a crane and used to pick up cars? Image a safety pin as the alcoholic and the magnet as the booze. There is no contest the magnet will win every time. That safety pin will absolutely have to have help to free itself of the magnet. The help is detox and rehab centers, a strong family support system and AA (or AA-type support program).

Riley doesn’t even remember asking his question about sobriety. When I told him about it recently, he joined me in laughter. Although, he clearly states he would prefer death over sobriety – he sees the absurdity in the question. Somehow, I like to think, that’s progress.

No more itching...

I am now flea-free!!! Well – the animals are and so is the house! I followed every step of the vet’s advice and it has worked.

Thanks to Syd of I'm Just F.I.N.E. -- who told me about Wax Myrtle Trees being a natural deterrent to fleas. I called the nursery and they are holding four of them for me to pick up next Saturday. Thank you very much, Syd!!

Flea-like expectations...

I’m so frustrated this morning I could just scream. In fact, I think I did. My unrealistic expectations of Riley bites me on the butt. And it seems that I do that quite often. It’s like a flea that I can’t get rid of. If I don’t stop those expectations, the frustrations will just keep multiplying like the fleas that live on my pets.

Two years ago, Riley became insistent that I get him a dog. His dog of choice was a Mastiff. Of course, I said no, but what about a smaller dog – like a Cocker Spaniel or Beagle? He said those were too small.

It just so happened that our grandson had gotten a dog for his daughter. She was a mix of Springer Spaniel and Chesapeake Retriever. Jade was just an active little puppy. She ate every shoe in my grandson’s house and seemed to refuse to be house-trained. He was talking about giving her to his friend in the country where she would have room to burn off all that energy. Uhhh… did I mention she was ACTIVE.

I was convinced that this sweet little puppy just was in need of consistent training in a household where everyone didn’t leave her alone all day long. So… I said… sure, I’ll take her for Riley. She would never be as big as a Mastiff, but she was definitely larger than a Beagle. After some discussion with Riley, the decision was made – Riley would be Jade’s new master.

When we moved to the country, Jade really blossomed into a sweet dog. I can now open the door and let her run. No electronic fence needed, just acres and acres of land for her to bounce around in and chase the little critters. Along with the acres of land and freedom to run was a big, black flea and tick infestation. I tried everything I knew to do, but between the dog and the cat I wasn’t making a dent in the flea life cycle. It was getting to the point where fleas were even invading the rooms where the animals do not go. Just sitting in the den would leave you with little red marks where flease have feasted on yummy warm human blood. I think the Frontline was just over-tasked and could not keep up.

Jade was constantly scratching and biting at herself. Riley would look at her and say, “I don’t know why she is doing that?” REALLY!?! Riley insisted he had not seen a flea on her, so he knew it wasn’t because of fleas because she didn’t have any. I am still amazed by that statement. Jade is a black dog and it’s hard to see the fleas, but just because I don’t seem them scurrying around doesn’t mean they aren’t there. If I believed Riley, then we must have the only dog in rural North Carolina that doesn’t have fleas.

I did what any responsible pet owner does… I found out how to reduce the flea population in our house and on our property. I figured that I can’t control the farming fields around us, but I can at least work on my yard and house. I consulted with our veterinarian and got the low down on what to do.

First, cut the grass extremely short and treat the yard with a spray. I told Riley… I’m going out to spray the grass. Can you come out and help? He gave me a deep sigh that could only be recognized as one of irritation and said he would. So I prodded out and got everything ready, thinking he would be out in just a minute. So I started without him. The hose is heavy and dragging it back and forth around the bushes, having to backtrack to get around the cars – well – for my 62 year old overweight body… It was exhausting.

I finished the backyard and before starting the front yard… I called to Riley at his open bedroom window. I could see him sitting at his computer, but he did not respond. I continued my quest to finish our one-acre yard. Finally, as I’m finishing up the last small corner, he appeared. I guess you could say he helped because he coiled the hose at the front porch so it would be ready for me to repeat the task in two weeks.

I gave both animals a Capstar pill and proceeded to treat the house. I sprayed the carpeted rooms with the spray recommended by the vet. Riley was to treat his own room. Every bit of fabric that the animals ever used as a sleeping pad was washed. Today, I bathed Jade with special aloe and oatmeal soap to help with her itchy skin. I also gave her a Sentinel tablet and applied Advantix. Jax Cat will also get Advantix today.

Riley has still not finished his room. Jade sleeps in his room on Riley’s bed. He claims he’s not in a hurry because the animals really do not have fleas. He doesn’t understand why I’m going to to so much trouble when there really isn’t a problem. He wishes I would just stop telling me to take care of Jade and leave him to care for HIS dog his way.

Oh…. So what WAY would that be?? Never a bath?? Never a flea treatment?? Never a vaccination?? Never getting her spayed?? Never taking her outside and throwing her a ball? Always feeding her unhealthy people food? Just exactly what does dog ownership mean to Riley? I truly don’t understand.

It all goes back to me having unrealistic expectations when it comes to Riley. I seem to always fall into the trap of believing that he can and will do what he says. But, in reality, he cannot and I should not expect that he will.

Dr. Phil says the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. I whole-heartedly believe this is true. So I need to stop believing he will do anything, drunk or sober, any differently than the way he has done things in the past. And my past behavior of having unrealistic expectations has to stop. It need to put a Capstar on that expectation flea.

Red flags and yellow lights...

I first met Riley when I was only 17 going on 18. I was a naïve country girl and he was a sophisticated older man. I didn’t like him so much at first. But he did check off many of my husband requirements and he was so charming and polite. It wasn’t long before I was in so deep that I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Visions of marriage, babies and white picket fences danced in my head.

When I think about the beginning of my life with Riley, I see that there was a plethora of emotions – happy, sad, joyful, angry, hopeful, disappointed, giddy and hurt. The early relationship was all those things. And mixed in there during that first couple of years were all the red flags that should have told me to run – run fast and hard away from this man.

I don’t know why I ignored them. Warning signs flashing in my face like those blinking yellow lights atop a sawhorse in the middle of the roadway. Maybe it was because I was so young and inexperienced and had not been exposed to any real marital problems since my parents had never openly displayed any in their marriage. The only big issue between my parents was that my father was a work-a-holic and there was never enough money. So, I guess, I really had no idea what I was getting into and when the signs were in my face, I just didn’t recognize them.

I remember one evening when we were in Riley’s apartment. He had been to a doctor that day – I don’t remember why. When we were sitting down to dinner, he told me that the doctor had told him he needed to stop drinking. At that point, I had never seen him drunk so I didn’t really understand why the doctor would say this. In reality… maybe I had never seen him sober. I just acknowledged his statement and we went on with our evening.

Over the next couple of years, we separated and reconciled several times and when we were together he had affairs. One affairee, a married woman, turned into a relationship, but he continued to keep one foot in our relationship. I decided to move on. That entire two year journey was a red flag that should have been burned into my memory.

Several years later, I was walking down the street in a major city and we literally ran into each other. The roller coaster was back in motion and I was in the first car. I moved across the country and became a Navy wife. This is when I started to see a drinking pattern but not so much in Riley but in everyone around us.

Every Friday at least 20 shipmates and their spouses gathered in the common area outside our apartment. Everyone brought food to grill and booze to drink – and drink – and drink. People fell down drunk in the yard and on my floor. The party lasted until Sunday evening. This was our typical weekend for almost three years. I didn’t like it, but I was told by several of the wives that I just needed to go with it and loosen up. I should be happy that Riley didn’t get drunk. Another red flag screaming out – this is not the life you want – get out now!

Many years later, I started to recognize that Riley was drunk when I thought he was not. I think I realized it because I started to see him actually consuming the alcohol. It was a bottle of wine every night with dinner after 3 or 4 scotch drinks the minute he got home from work. He seemed to get drunk every weekend. But, I figured he was just unhappy about something – maybe he was unhappy with me. And my feelings were confirmed when I found out he was spreading his seed in other women’s flower garden.

Devastated – I went to a therapist to find out how I could fix me and make my husband become faithful again. If I could do that – the drinking would stop and he would emotionally return to me. Now – I can’t believe that I really thought this was how to make things right. I can’t believe I was so stupid. My therapy helped me, but it didn’t make Riley stop drinking or womanizing.

The Navy ordered him into his first rehab center and for several years things got much better. He was sober. He was monogamous. He was attentive. But, it only lasted a few years and things returned to the nightmare of previous years.  There would be at least four more returns to rehab, but the cycle continued. And I stayed. Each time he entered rehab a red flag was added to the others and by now they were all waving with the strength of hurricane winds.

After the last Navy rehab, there seemed to be a strong determination in Riley to stay sober. My son was moving into his first apartment and my daughter was completing high school. Riley was very close to retirement and we had a plan. After retirement Riley would take a civilian job and we would dedicate most of his civilian salary to getting the house, car and all our bills paid off. I thought – this is a good plan.

But Riley was forced into retirement early because he returned to drinking again and the Navy had already sent him to his quota of rehab centers without satisfactory results. He retired. He refused to work in the civilian world because it interfered with his drinking. We lost the house. We lost our two cars. We lost everything. I left him.

I don’t blame Riley. I blame myself. The signs were there from early on. All those red flags waving about – and I ignored each and every one. By my own choice, I spent the best years of my life waiting for this man to respect our marriage. I could have left him early on but I didn’t. I choose to stay with the emotionally abusive alcoholic always hopeful that he would be “normal.” I can blame no one else for that decision.

I think I see clearly now – 20/20 hindsight is incredibly enlightening. It was what it was. I won’t live in the past by pining away for what could have been. I look at the present and feel so very grateful for what I have. I look to the future and know it will be what I choose to make it be. I make every effort to make my choices carefully with a clear and open mind. And I’m constantly checking for red flags or flashing yellow lights.