What it was like, what happened, and what it's like now: A year of sobriety part VII

At my last stopping point, I had reached, ‘the night of grace,’ as my wife and I call it. I was looking through my emails for anything I’d written about that night. All I could come up with was a reflection after the fact. I was writing an amends letter to my wife and mentioned:

“I will never forget that night. The night you could have thrown me out and never spoken to me again. It would have been justice for the things I did. You didn't. You withheld your judgment and showered me with mercy. It was, as we have described it, a moment of grace. It should have been a turning point. It should have shown me that I never need lie to you, never mistrust you, and never doubt your love. Instead, I have spent the last year and a half testing you over and over again. I have squandered the most beautiful gift that I have ever been given.”

The above looks back at that night after another year and a half of relapses and horror. Still, I think the first half of the quote does a good job describing it. I’ll try to go into a little detail about my recollections at this point.

I honestly don’t have a great memory of the words said or the exact events. It’s more an imprint of a feeling at this point. I remember I was terrified. I remember that I was sure our relationship was done. I recall lots of tears. The reaction, though, was not as expected or as deserved. Instead of being disgusted or upset, she showed me grace. She showed me the mercy of God.

I think it was a turning point in our relationship. I still didn’t get sober yet and it certainly wasn’t the last time I lied about my drinking or drugging. It was, however, the first time I really felt like someone else could see where I was coming from in my addiction. It was unconditional love accepting me as who I was and where I was at. I think it started a long and slow process of healing.

I was still relapsing every two or three months and this cycle continued. I was still getting drugs from the stripper, Mary Jane or Miranda, who was the source Mary Jane got them from. I would delete their number or change mine or try multiple external things to stay sober, but there was still a lack of willingness to go to any lengths necessary. I’m not sure if I was still seeing a therapist/psychiatrist or attending any twelve step meetings.

After that night, the relapses more or less blend together in my head. There were a handful of really bad ones, and I’ll try to describe a few of those in my next edition.

Before I close though, I’d like to editorialize for a minute. There’s a fine line between loving an addict and enabling one. Sometimes the line is rather gray. My family and wife have always loved me and sometimes they were also enabling. My recovery has always been my responsibility, so I don’t intend to point any blame. I’m writing for those that might be in a difficult situation. It’s important to let the addict know that you love them, but that doesn’t mean you need to be a part of their life and the decisions that he/she is making. Everyone’s journey is their own and you’ve got to find what works for you. I’m grateful they never gave up on me, but it didn’t have to turn out that way. Even if it did, there’s always hope for recovery for both the addict and the loved ones they’ve affected. Persistence has been one of the most important aspects of my sobriety.

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