What Happens After We Leave
We lay in bed at night and dream about what life would be like if we left the ones we desperately love who struggle with addiction. What would living without constant worry feel like? How would we deal with our finances, the kids, and no one to laugh with on holidays?
Sometimes, imagining leaving feels so freeing (especially when they are not answering their phones or are passed out on the couch). But the next moment, it can be absolutely terrifying, thinking of being alone and the anger and judgment we might face.
So, how does it really feel once we’ve moved on?
There were moments when I was singing out loud in my car with the windows rolled down, feeling the strongest and newest. There were also moments when I was driving away from dropping off my children at our designated exchange spot, wiping away the tears and wishing things could have worked out.
The first few months were a roller coaster, a grieving process of sorts - the lows of losing my relationship and the highs of feeling so proud of myself for walking away from an abusive relationship. Extremes existed within 24 hours. But I stayed the course because the option of going back to a life of chaos and trauma seemed so much more difficult than moving forward (or, on some days, just standing still).
On the days that I felt depressed, I wasn’t really missing him, but rather, I was missing the idea of being married and having a family. I wanted so badly to give my children a father, but I knew the biological one they had was not healthy enough to fill that role, and sometimes, that made me feel like a failure as a mother.
But one of the best things I learned when I was leaving my ex-husband was from a child psychologist who told me, “In order to give your children the greatest chance for success - they need one present parent who consistently shows up and cares. They don’t need two parents.” She also mentioned the kids she worries about in her practice are the children who don’t have either a parent or a guardian.
I knew I could be there for my children, and despite my depressive episodes, I could show up and “fake it.” I could pick them up from the bus stop with a big hug and a smile - even if I were feeling empty that day. I could read to them and sing lullabies at night while wondering how I was going to feel happiness again.
But happiness came. I recovered. And I found someone else to love—someone who came home at night, someone who loved my children enough to adopt them, someone who wanted to please me as much as I wanted to please him. Love was no longer one-sided.
After a long time - Love became safe.
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As always, your timing is spot on. My AH and I are at the start of an amicable divorce. We both know that things won’t change, and I’ve come to grips with the fact that I’m going to have to sacrifice a good portion of my retirement in order to move on. Every day for the last several months, I told myself that each day in this relationship is another day lost, so I spoke to my FA to understand how much I could afford to cough up and still be financially stable alone. Again, it’s a tough pill to swallow, but the alternative - staying together - has been too paralyzing for too long. It’s actually pretty amazing how at peace I now feel. You, Michelle, and this community saved me. You showed me that this disease isn’t about ME, that I’m NOT crazy, and that I’m worth more than this. You held my virtual hand and walked me through the steps to find some sanity. I could not be more grateful for the peace to which you’ve led me.
We are a brave group. All of us that are here on this sight understand what each of us has gone through and continue to go through. We don’t know one another but we know each other better than our closest friend or family…because of what we hear, see, witness, endure, reject, stick around for, reject again, yet stay…and finally- we decide- or maybe we haven’t
I was married for 38 years-3 amazing sons, both of us in successful careers, beautiful house-our friends would call our life a charmed life-
Until alcohol broke the spell-
I found Michelle when I was desperately seeking answers, in the middle of the night, googling my life- up popped Michelle- she knew exactly what was happening behind my closed door-
The lies, finding bottles hidden everywhere, dumping them out, broken promises, verbal abuse, blame, shame, keeping the disease hidden, finally exposing everything, rehab multiple times, relapse, detoxing at home, the fear that brings, the realization, the final straw,
The separation, the attorneys, the divorce,
The aftermath-
Now- I’m free from the daily abuse, free to focus on rebuilding my life, figuring out how that goes
but the grief of my loss, his disease haunts me every day- after all of this there’s still that fairy tale ending that I dream of - knowing it will never come true- I’m left with grieving the living dead , knowing he is actively using, slowing killing himself- it’s too much to bare witness to-
Were divorced but my sons are left with dealing with him- in trying to save myself- the burden has now shifted to my sons- they can’t divorce their dad-
This is the only time I’ve ever shared this- I know this community will understand- I’m grateful for this safe place to vent-