A View on Alcoholics.

Christmas is a time that families and loved ones particularly worry about, where alcoholics are concerned. Other people mean no harm when they try to press ‘drinks’ on others as it is all part of the Christmas cheer and joining in with celebrations. Under these circumstances it must be a dreadful temptation for the recovering alcoholic, taking superhuman strength for them not to succumb. Just like drugs and tobacco, it is a terrible addiction. Even though the person addicted can be suffering ill-health due to it, they still can not stop. It makes no difference how much suffering is caused to their loved ones.

Tobacco is a sinister underlying terrorist, as it is not considered that bad by smokers, although it causes so many deaths. Those who do not smoke dread the diseases which could easily take their family or partners. Smoking will eventually cause a degree of Emphysema, if not cancer. It may cause it in non-smokers too.

Drink in moderation seems to be beneficial, if we can trust that a glass of wine a day is good for the heart, but, excess always leads to organ damage. Alcohol and drugs, taken in large amounts over the years, cause brain cells to die, as well as cirrhosis of the liver. Excesses of drugs, or/and alcohol will cause irreparable problems and take away the personality of the person. Thus, we can end up living with a total stranger. This compounds the suffering of the innocent, who are only guilty of not being able to stop loving the addicted person.

It is difficult to be strong for the both of you, when it feels as if you are being selfish and cruel. But through experience, I say that after the initial standing by and trying to help in preventing the alcoholic from being tempted to drink, and talking sense to them, if it has not worked after a given time limit, give up. Know when to stop bashing your head against that brick wall. There is no point in allowing an addict to ruin your life or that of your families. That one person has to have their crutch removed, and you must wait and see which way they fall. Some who still have a degree of pride, or some self-respect will be able to pick themselves up. Only their will-power is going to save them, not yours!

Addicts can not stop hurting their loved ones. They do not mean to, but their addiction is far more important than anyone else when they are going ‘cold turkey.’ It is all too easy to stop the shakes and panic attacks, by turning to the very cause of them. But, these individuals are weak if they will not suffer, to prevent those who love them from suffering. We all have a duty to our own spirits. We must not stifle them or be held back due to others abusing themselves. And the guilt that is felt when we ‘give up' on a loved one hurts almost as much as the ‘being there,’ to be used as the crutch.

This is the time when ‘letting go,’ is most important. It will be make or break and is the only way to have a decent relationship. Anyone who causes suffering of any kind, should be avoided. They will be weak, mean, accusing and most probably, ‘amoral’ too and these are the traits of the alcoholic. So, what is the point of allowing the ‘rebound’ suffering, for those who have proved many times, not to be worth it?

There are some strong individuals who have pulled through and stayed on the wagon. They should be helped to stay there with support if necessary, but they have proved their worth. If you have to ‘let go’ of someone, it is a good idea to join a branch of alcoholics anonymous. They are there for families too, and the support each can give one another is invaluable. Do not become a victim like they are, just because you love someone who is content to be one.

My second husband, Gavvy, an ex black-belt 'Aikido' karate man, turned out to be an alcoholic. Whilst going out with him, I noticed the warning signs but ignored them. On our honeymoon night, I discovered more about his drinking problem. My three-year-old daughter was in the care of friends so we could spend some time together. We visited his friends at their sea-side home. Gavvy spent most of our cash, buying drinks for everyone in the pub. He only seemed to want to show me off, but did not make me feel a part of him, as he talked and laughed with all the strangers.

On arrival back at the friends home, both Gavvy and the other husband collapsed in heaps. I have never liked the sight of a drunk and felt horrified. I hoped this had been the only occasion when my new husband experienced this state, as I had never witnessed him being tipsy any other time. The wife of the other drunken heap told me that both Gavvy and her husband were alcoholics, and that I would get used to it, too. This was not the husband I wanted, or thought I knew, so I left then and there. I did not have any money on me and decided to hitchhike back to my home, many miles away. I was scared thinking about the danger which may come from the strangers who would allow me the free rides. But, the intense feeling of being let down and my need to get as far away from Gavvy as I could, helped to give me the courage I needed to leave immediately.

All the way back I wasted good tears on him. I was lucky enough to get a kind truck driver who went out of his way to take me right to the street I lived on. Apart from that vague memory, I don't recall much about that long journey back. I must have been too upset. The beginning of my second marriage, and it had come to an end. At home the tears flowed constantly as I realised my terrible mistake in marrying such a man, when two days later, the dreaded phone call from Gavvy came. He seemed upset at my embarrassing him by walking out and he threatened to cut my legs off. I called the police soon after. They were unable to help, unless I had been injured, but would drive up and down the road occasionally to look out for him. I was devastated to hear that my own home had now become the ’marital home,’ so they could not banish him from coming back.

The next evening after dark, Gavvy climbed in through my window, two storeys up. He remembered the broken catch and decided to take advantage of it. (The full horrific story can be read in my Autobiography, in the editing stage at the moment.) Gavvy was to become the father of my second daughter, against my wishes and through what now is called marital rape. I had a four year old daughter, and in those days a mother with a child was not welcome in rented accommodation. I could not make Gavvy leave and waited my chance to run away from him. He locked me in the flat whilst he was out at work, and also when he went out in the evenings. He came back drunk and was a terrible nuisance when he came back in, to say the least. I discovered his other dark sides, as a muggerand later a paedophile . The last straw was when we were out together at one of his friend's houses, and I could not get him to stop drinking although he was becoming inebriated. I ran from him, and to cut a long story short, he threw me in a ditch that was nearby, when he caught up with me.

The police had already been called, as Gavvy had hit a neighbour who had tried earlier to help me, and I was rescued from the 6ft ditch full of nettles, that came over my head. We were taken to the police station and he was kept in, whilst I was taken home. But, he was let out that night and was so angry with me when he got back. But, we never spoke. He glared at me and this time, I knew better than to anger him as I usually did when I stood up for myself. But, now I was desperate and through the girl downstairs, managed to get a women's hostel to take my daughter and myself in. I had to wait until he forgot to lock the door, which he did on occasions. I was five months pregnant, and very fearful of the future. But, again cutting a long story short, in the process, I lost both my newborn and my four year old daughters, to the social services.

During the next important relationship, I helped provide for my partner. athough he worked I paid some of his mounting gambling debts. I left this man, Parky (who liked his Guinness far too much) many times, but he always turned up on my doorstep. He found me whenever I moved from town to town. The doorbell would ring, and I would open the door to find Parky standing there with his suitcase in his hand and a shy grin on his face. His Irish charm was very hard to resist. He was the kind of drinking man who was often ‘tipsy,’ which made him so unreliable, but he never became unpleasant. I gave him many chances and believed and hoped he could change.

Though I hated being let down, I began to accept that his needs were more important than mine. Of course, my feelings were left unfulfilled as a result. This particular relationship finally ended with his murder. It occurred in an argument over me, with an Irish woman who was a jockey at the horse stables in Lambourne, UK. He had a gambling relationship with her, as she could give him tips straight from the stables.

Parky was never to turn up on my doorstep again. After his murder in 1981, I suddenly felt he was the only man I could ever love. We had been very good friends throughout, and his death caused me guilt for not staying closer to him. After this horrible incident, I was unable to give my love to a man for a long time. Twenty years later, I married a man who was a witch, and very unusual to say the least, but I thought I could settle for companionship. This man, Bob, only drank socially and I never saw him tipsy. He was more into meditaion and I learned a great deal from him about spiritual matters. But, I was not in love with him and he accepted that. Many things happened that I disliked which included me becoming very ill for almost all of the five years of marriage. I ended that marriage as soon as I found the physical strength to do so. But, just a few months after my divorce, my heart went out to a man whose qualities I imagined to be my ideal. Apart from his lack of being a musician or singer.

In this man, Paul, I saw his deep need for me and believed everything he said about needing something good in his life, to overcome the terrible times he had been through. When he laughed it was wonderful, and we laughed and giggled a great deal in the early days. Even his children were surprised and happy with the change in their father. Paul was a recovering alcoholic of just a few weeks when I met him, but whilst in my company, he had the strength to stay off the drink. So now, I took on the responsibility of trying to save him from himself, partly due to my feeling a ‘failure’ with the previous husband. Therefore, even through my terrible ordeals with Gavvy, who had been my second husband, I later allowed myself to fall in love with Paul, who became my fourth husband. Even though I knew he had been binge drinking for ten years, making himself very ill in the process.But, a short while after our marriage, Paul could no longer be bothered to talk. He became quiet, not only with me, but everyone else too. I mistook this silence as a sign of his emotional pain.

I became determined to help him, and made myself trust. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. My judgement of his actions turned out to be wrong. I even blamed myself for everything and thought the baggage of my past traumatic life might be influencing my opinions. The injustices in my life had made me a very angry person, yet I was still very gullible. When I saw weakness in others, I tried to heal it and felt totally compelled to help, to my own detriment. The feeling of being 'needed' outweighed the need to feel 'loved.' Although it hurt badly not to have the love and affection which Paul had originally shown to me.

Love frightened me as it came with pain, emotional, if not physical. However, being needed made me think I did something right. If I could stop someone from suffering, even to a small degree, I felt good about myself. My priorities were all wrong. I began to kill my spirit. Giving it freely and not expecting, or even caring, when it was not being nourished in return.

Paul, was so different to anyone I had ever met and after reading the book he wrote, I unwittingly became involved. To read and find out what he had been through made my heart go out to him. Paul Bruce, (his pen name) wrote the worldwide best-selling book, 'The Nemesis File.' His autobiography on how he suffered through a terrible time in the S.A.S. in the British Army. He belonged to one of the 'execution squads,' and he later turned to drink to help dissolve the memories of those he ‘assassinated’ in the war in Ireland. His book is still available from bookstores or can be ordered from Amazon. I hesitatingly at first, became involved with this cold-blooded murderer who called himself an ex-assassin.

During our early conversations, Paul explained his problems and nightmares stemmed from pure guilt at the lives he took. He used to say if it had happened during a battle, he could have coped. But, as he was used in this way as a human robot who had been brainwashed, he hated it.

I went ahead with my support for Paul, terminating a possible decent relationship with a wonderful man I had become friends with, in the hopes that this time Paul might give up the drink for good and have a real life. I needed to help Paul release the constant guilt he suffered, and wanted to help stop his nightmares. Paul did not seem like my other alcoholic husband who was vicous for the sake of it. That man had been purely evil by nature and not through the training and actions of others.

Paul never drank whilst living with me, but after marrieage, it had soon become apparent that our personalities were totally different. We had nothing in common, except for the bodybuilding, writing and our hatred for any animal, bird or insect to be hurt. But, Paul had been trying to write his second book, whilst with me, and I hoped he would now be able to finish it. After a while Paul did not notice that he was no longer affectionate to me. He expected me to always go to him for a cuddle. He never liked me bringing this to his notice and blamed me for not allowing him the solitude he needed to write his book. This was always his excuse for being cold towards me. He needed peace and I prevented him from concentrating.

Gradually, after three months of marriage, his coldness and lack of being affectionate, I could not take anymore. I sent him back to the home I sensibly helped him to keep going. This was to be my standby if Paul ever reverted to his drinking ways. Our parting was over the time period of both our birthdays and I was sure he would miss me enough to see how his behaviour affected me, somebody he professed to love, but could no longer show it to. I truly believed he would not drink again, as he had been complimented on his change, by so many people who used to know him. Since being with me he had become a hundred per cent different man. He had begun weightlifting and eating properly again and looked so healthy and even much younger. His children were thrilled at that change in him. Paul was so proud of his change that I was sure he would keep it up whether I was with him or not.

When I had previously suggested he went back to his house and finish the book, he did not want to go. I know now that he was afraid the drinking might start up. Which of course was the first thing he did when I demanded he leave so we could have a break from each other. A few days later when I called around to see Paul, I was horrified at the huge change in him.

He had made himself so ill with the drink, he was incapable of eating and could not stop throwing up. He was wobbly and to see such a strong man like him in this state, made my heart weep. I held him close as I said that I nowknew his love for me was not as strong as his craving for drink. It was only a matter of time before our marriage was destroyed. He looked at me so pathetically with tears rolling down his cheeks and said, “But, I’m your husband.” I held his shaking body, and cried along with him. I told Paul I would take him back and make him well, but if he did not become more affectionate, he must leave for good. He had tears in his eyes as he said, “You really do love me don’t you?” His belief had always been that no-one had ever really loved him, except for his children.

The first two weeks were strange. I had to let him drink his gin in small amounts, while he came down slowly. I noticed he spoke to me far more with the influence of drink, but he was not always making sense. Paul stayed in the guest room at my request while he was recovering and soon he was off the drink and back to weight training. But, he all too soon Paul became his silent self again. It felt as if I had an un-paying lodger who was not sociable in the slightest. To make it worse, we acted normally and he came into my bedroom the times when his children came to stay.

After three months, just a few weeks before Christmas, I could take no more hurt and neglect and made him leave for good. It broke my heart, but his lack of attention caused me more pain. Try as I did, it was impossible to turn off my love for him, but I had to save myself.

Even being a close friend of an alcoholic can be so painful when you see them destroying themselves. Their dignity goes; they slur their words and sound as if they have a brain tumour. It is impossible to have a sensible conversation with them. Also, they can never be there for you if you should have an emergency or need a shoulder to cry on. I had a few, while he was not living with me, but I knew going to him would make it worse.

Every time they go back on the drink, it feels like a personal assault. Any good done for them is thrown back in your face. They make the one trying to help, feel like they are the enemy, and still they expect to be helped when they damage themselves and everyone else by their behaviour.

Because their thinking is distorted, even when it seems they are back to normal and not drinking, there are slight relapses. Then words said to them in love and concern are heard in a twisted way. Only to be thrown back in your face, as they become more defensive and suspicious of your motives.

I can now understand how those who are in love with alcoholics stay with them. They have chosen to be unhappy themselves, so long as they can see the occasional smile. or hear the laughter from their loved one, no matter how infrequent. They make sure they eat and help them retain as much dignity as they are able to. They listen and try to understand and can spend hours trying to give comfort. At this time, their sacrifices seem worthwhile.

They would rather have this kind of misery, than to try and be happy elsewhere, or with someone else who is not so needy. They are in a pattern, most certainly to do with 'conditioning,' and think that their own welfare is of no consequence. They could not bear to think of how much worse it could be for the person they love, if they were left to their own devices.

These put upon partners, women or sometimes men, have become martyrs and may never get out of the trap, unless somebody gets through to them. To impress upon them that they are equally important and must, for the sake of their own spirit and its proper direction, make the break. Although this would allow their alcoholic loved one to either suffer alone and be lost, or make them see sense and have to do something constructive themselves.

If the alcoholic goes down, the decision to leave would have been the right one, as this partner would eventually have taken anyone close, down with them. If they manage to get control of their life and some self-respect, then the partner did the best favour ever in not being a 'crutch,' in helping them to prolong the drinking abuse.

Once out of these relationships, it may be tempting to get involved again out of sympathy and a need for their love. That rarely works out in the long run because it is all too easy to become the unwilling crutch again. Trying to stay 'friends,' is dangerous. It is too easy to find oneself back in a close involvement and back in the firing line, literally. Sooner or later, you will get shot through the heart. It is just a matter of time. I left the country and gave up all I knew to escape, although it was the right decision for me, for others, that might be drastic. Putting some good miles between you would help you not to be tempted. After all, someone who stays with an alcoholic has a kind of addiction and is being damaged in the back-lash.

My thoughts and prayers go out to all you wives, husbands, mothers, fathers and families of alcoholics. I do mention you all in my prayers, every now and then. I sincerely wish you every little ounce of happiness you can possibly get. I also hope you will start to respect yourselves enough, to know when to back off and leave these types of destructive relationships alone. You are worth more than that!



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