The most difficult aspect about working with a loved one that is an addict is that they’re still your loved one. You still don’t want them to be in pain, you still want to meet their needs and you still want to feel like they love you, even though you’re doing things that you know are good for them but they don’t want done anyway.
I know that I told you what’s been going on, at least the board brush strokes of my life. One of the comments made by a well wisher is that I should seek help from her family. The joke of it is they have been helping, quiet a lot actually. The dynamic of the house has her mother and her sister living with us. Between the three of us we were able to sit down and speak with her about what we thought needed to be done and what we could do to help. It’s been full of fright, tears, misery and concern.
On Friday is when the fit hit the shan more than anything else and since then it’s been a recovery effort on our part trying to alleviate her fears and concerns, trying to work around a lot of her issues.
She spent most of that day sleeping it off. That meant that when it was time for me to go to sleep after a long day she went ahead and starting talking my head off non stop.
Of course when she got up from her day’s sleep she was upset that we weren’t up there more often, that she felt she could have died and no one came to check on her.
I like to think I’m patient but I have to admit that I dealt with it in a very sophomoric fashion. Instead of her really talking about what was going on she would focus on her sister and how she felt it was unfair that her sister got everything she wanted and how it was unfair that she was painted in a bad light. When I would try to redirect her she would throw barbs out that she knew would hurt, “You’re worthless” “I hate you” “Why am I even married to you” “you failed your marriage”
I listened to her go around in circles in her own head for three hours before I cut it off and had enough. I broke one of our cardinal rules because I was just so sick of hearing it. When we first got married we agreed that we would never leave the house when we were fighting. It’s a respect thing and I had held firmly to that until Friday night, exhaustion, frustration and rage got the better of me and I finally bolted from the house. I didn’t go far, I went about half a block in my car, lowered my seat, turned on my iPod and tried to drown out the sorrow I was feeling. About twenty minutes later I went back home to find that in that time she had pretty much wrecked half of my stuff in anger at me leaving.
She was inconsolable, she was angry, she was sad, she wanted to be held, she didn’t want me to touch her. She finally rested.
When I woke the next morning I tried to make things better. I talked with her now that she was more lucid, now that she was willing to listen as well as talk. I thought that the conversation went well. I tried to reassure her, that I was there for her and that we could get through this. Everything seemed alright until it was time to get out of bed and face the rest of the family. The insecurities found their way into her again and she refused to get up. I left her in bed and went to take care of the kids and give an update on her condition. I kept coming up to check on her and tried to encourage her to come down and eat something, be part of the family. She went back to blaming me for everything and saying that I wasn’t giving her the time she needed.
Sunday was the worst. Sunday she was completely lucid and livid. She was angry that we had gone through her stuff and taken her meds (We didn’t, there was NOTHING left to take) she thought we all hated her and she wanted us all to die. She felt like we thought she was worthless and wanted to die. She tried. Small cuts across her wrist testify to that desire in her heart and in her mind. She didn’t succeed however. We managed to get her in to the ER. She was dehydrated, her heart rate was elevated and she was in severe pain.
19mg of pain medicine through IV later, she felt better. She was more relaxed and released to come home.
Monday was another trying day. I went to work but my mother in law stayed home with her. For some unknown reason to me she went to her doctor’s office and told him that her medicine had been stolen. What’s more is that she tried to pin it on one of my close friends. What she didn’t know and I did is that if you are going to go to a doctor’s office and tell them that your medicine was STOLEN you must have a police report. She didn’t have it, she earned herself a black mark on her folder, a trip to a pain specialist and a threat from her doctor that if she ever pulled that stunt again, she would have a termination letter from him, which would also go to our insurance and also be considered another black mark.
When I called during lunch she was hysterical, she felt like she had let everyone down, that her doctor hated her and that she wanted to die.
Between then and now she went on a seventy-two hour manic episode. After being depressed all weekend, she perked right up and decided that there were several things that needed to be done around the house…non-stop…for 72 hours.
Today she’s on even keel. She’s going to a pain management clinic at some point in the near future, she seems more like herself. I still wait for the other shoe to drop.
Time will tell for now. I thank all of you that left a comment in support and ideas with how to handle the situation, also those who left their prayers. It means a lot. I will keep you posted as things to continue to move forward. I hope to be back to your regularly scheduled blog tomorrow.
I know that I told you what’s been going on, at least the board brush strokes of my life. One of the comments made by a well wisher is that I should seek help from her family. The joke of it is they have been helping, quiet a lot actually. The dynamic of the house has her mother and her sister living with us. Between the three of us we were able to sit down and speak with her about what we thought needed to be done and what we could do to help. It’s been full of fright, tears, misery and concern.
On Friday is when the fit hit the shan more than anything else and since then it’s been a recovery effort on our part trying to alleviate her fears and concerns, trying to work around a lot of her issues.
She spent most of that day sleeping it off. That meant that when it was time for me to go to sleep after a long day she went ahead and starting talking my head off non stop.
Of course when she got up from her day’s sleep she was upset that we weren’t up there more often, that she felt she could have died and no one came to check on her.
I like to think I’m patient but I have to admit that I dealt with it in a very sophomoric fashion. Instead of her really talking about what was going on she would focus on her sister and how she felt it was unfair that her sister got everything she wanted and how it was unfair that she was painted in a bad light. When I would try to redirect her she would throw barbs out that she knew would hurt, “You’re worthless” “I hate you” “Why am I even married to you” “you failed your marriage”
I listened to her go around in circles in her own head for three hours before I cut it off and had enough. I broke one of our cardinal rules because I was just so sick of hearing it. When we first got married we agreed that we would never leave the house when we were fighting. It’s a respect thing and I had held firmly to that until Friday night, exhaustion, frustration and rage got the better of me and I finally bolted from the house. I didn’t go far, I went about half a block in my car, lowered my seat, turned on my iPod and tried to drown out the sorrow I was feeling. About twenty minutes later I went back home to find that in that time she had pretty much wrecked half of my stuff in anger at me leaving.
She was inconsolable, she was angry, she was sad, she wanted to be held, she didn’t want me to touch her. She finally rested.
When I woke the next morning I tried to make things better. I talked with her now that she was more lucid, now that she was willing to listen as well as talk. I thought that the conversation went well. I tried to reassure her, that I was there for her and that we could get through this. Everything seemed alright until it was time to get out of bed and face the rest of the family. The insecurities found their way into her again and she refused to get up. I left her in bed and went to take care of the kids and give an update on her condition. I kept coming up to check on her and tried to encourage her to come down and eat something, be part of the family. She went back to blaming me for everything and saying that I wasn’t giving her the time she needed.
Sunday was the worst. Sunday she was completely lucid and livid. She was angry that we had gone through her stuff and taken her meds (We didn’t, there was NOTHING left to take) she thought we all hated her and she wanted us all to die. She felt like we thought she was worthless and wanted to die. She tried. Small cuts across her wrist testify to that desire in her heart and in her mind. She didn’t succeed however. We managed to get her in to the ER. She was dehydrated, her heart rate was elevated and she was in severe pain.
19mg of pain medicine through IV later, she felt better. She was more relaxed and released to come home.
Monday was another trying day. I went to work but my mother in law stayed home with her. For some unknown reason to me she went to her doctor’s office and told him that her medicine had been stolen. What’s more is that she tried to pin it on one of my close friends. What she didn’t know and I did is that if you are going to go to a doctor’s office and tell them that your medicine was STOLEN you must have a police report. She didn’t have it, she earned herself a black mark on her folder, a trip to a pain specialist and a threat from her doctor that if she ever pulled that stunt again, she would have a termination letter from him, which would also go to our insurance and also be considered another black mark.
When I called during lunch she was hysterical, she felt like she had let everyone down, that her doctor hated her and that she wanted to die.
Between then and now she went on a seventy-two hour manic episode. After being depressed all weekend, she perked right up and decided that there were several things that needed to be done around the house…non-stop…for 72 hours.
Today she’s on even keel. She’s going to a pain management clinic at some point in the near future, she seems more like herself. I still wait for the other shoe to drop.
Time will tell for now. I thank all of you that left a comment in support and ideas with how to handle the situation, also those who left their prayers. It means a lot. I will keep you posted as things to continue to move forward. I hope to be back to your regularly scheduled blog tomorrow.
2 comments:
I'm so sad to hear your family are having to bear this pain. I can only imagine how you must be feeling.
I really hope you can find the laughter again and your wife can find some peace in herself. Sending you love and ((hugs)) from a stranger, but they don't mean any less than from a friend.
You might feel you love her, but your wife is young, thoughtless and crazy. I'd say your commandment about not leaving the house when your angry got blown to shit when she had the idiocy to say "you ruined this marriage".
There's a line, and I'd say she crossed it.
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