This is Addiction....
- By girly-d
- On 07/01/2018
- 2 comments
I'm in bed with my boyfriend. And not in the way that you think.
Because I'm writing this blog as a way to keep calm while I'm keeping an eye on him. While I'm upset and I'm worried and I can put into words just how heartbreaking this whole fucked up situation is.
My boyfriend is ill. And he's struggling right now. He had a relapse three days ago. Quite a big one. It's knocked him for six. And now he's struggling to function properly again. I'm trying to be supportive and I'm putting a brave face on things but I'm struggling too. Seeing him so confused and upset and in pain is breaking my heart.
The bucket next to the bed is a flashback for me. I used to have one too. For the inevitable morning sickness that came after the days and the nights before. For the times when I was too sick or weak to do anything except lift my head and attempt to rid myself of the contents of my stomach....basically to make room for more of the shit I was going to throw down my neck for the rest of the day.....not because I wanted to but because I needed to....
This is addiction. And I want to talk about it....
I am a good person. So is my boyfriend. So are a lot of the people that we know.
I buy "The Big Issue", help the homeless, give to charity. I pride myself in knowing that I, my boyfriend and all of my true friends would give you the shirts off our backs if we thought that you needed it more than we did.
Each and every one of us are recovering addicts. It means that we've spent time in institutions, on locked wards and in hospitals. We've had our heads examined and our bodies prodded and probed for days and weeks on end. We've been shut away from society for months on end while we have attempted to fight our demons. And then, at some point, when we have been deemed 'fixed' enough, we've been allowed back out again into the real world and have attempted to find our place back here in society.
I'm smashing my recovery. I'm absolutely nailing it. Because going back to the place where I came from is a terrifying thought. It scares the shit out of me. It's not an option. That, and thinking of the black dress that I keep permanantly on standby in my wardrobe for when I have to bury the others keeps me focussed.
My friend Sam was twenty-seven. I could name at least another half a dozen who are currently dead-men walking as I'm writing this. These are my friends. The people I dote on. The guys I ate breakfast with in detox, the people I have gotten to know more than any one else in the world.... the people who will be talked about next over cocktail sausage rolls and curled up sandwiches in some back room somewhere at some point in the not too distant future. I can see it in their eyes......
My boyfriend is sick now. He's vomiting into the bucket by the bed.
And my heart is literally in pieces. I love this guy. I absolutely adore him. He's kind and thoughtful, sensitive, clever and kind. He's good in bed.
He's my guy.
Yesterday we went to the Co-op. It's normally a simple thing that we've done a million times before. We were discussing what we would have for dinner... Until the alcohol aisle caused him to have an on the spot melt-down and he had to leave the store.
As I stood in the queue waiting to pay, three people were shaking. One was my boyfriend, stood outside fighting an overwhelming urge to drink vodka. The second person was me, desperately willing the woman in front of me to please shut up talking and leave so that I can just pay for my things and get back to my boyfriend asap. The third person was the guy directly in front of me.... his hands shaking noticeably as he handed over the money for the five bottles of sherry in his basket....
We were supposed to be on a road-trip today. My boyfriend and I. We were going to go to my favourite place. So that I could show him some stuff and so that we could re-charge our batteries in time for the new year.
Instead, we are lying in a darkened room, with a bucket by the bed. Him throwing up...me pouring my heart out....
This is Addiction.
Because even when you win.....you lose. I don't want to lose my boyfriend. He's mine and I love him. But if he can't nail this thing then I know that I will. Either as a direct result of him continuing to drink, or by me having to walk away so that I don't have to watch him die.
They don't teach you this at school.
Maybe they should....
Because if they did then maybe I wouldn't need to be writing this blog and I'd really love to not be writing this blog right now....