Chapter 5 - In the Name of Love

A Spouse's Personal Story of Codependence

Hold On To Hope: Help for LDS Addicts and Their Families, By Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone and Dr. Rick H. (1996)

    Codependency is a character trait I seem to have always had. I find myself worrying about other people, places, and things above my own needs. I find I'm unable to let other people seek out the solutions to their own problems. Also, I especially find it hard to allow others to face the consequences of their own decisions. I don't like to see other people's pain and suffering, so I step in and try to fix their problems instead of allowing them the dignity to do it themselves. I have spent my time worrying and trying to fix others, although I had no control. This is what codependence has been to me in my life.
        With codependency, I have always felt there was something wrong with me if people I loved had problems, especially alcoholic ones. I believed I was self-sufficient enough to change others because I had all the answers. If something didn't work, I thought it was only a matter of time before I found something that would.
        I grew up in a large family as one of the youngest daughters, so everyone older always took care of me. I basically led a sheltered life, where drugs and alcohol had no place. In fact, we rarely even took aspirin or cold remedies. We were very strong in the church, and I believed that if you just married in the temple, everything would turn out fine. I had the perfect scenario of my future planned out years before I even married.
        I did get married in the temple and had several very happy years. Then my husband was critically injured in a tragic car accident and expected never to walk again. Because he was in so much pain, the doctors put him on morphine and its derivatives for a solid month. Finally, a few days before his release, a nurse told me that his bizarre behaviors in the hospital were probably a result of the drugs he had been taking. While there, some days he had been quite mean. Often he acted crazy. The nurse told me they were now stopping the drugs cold turkey, so I should expect him to be quite irritable. No one besides this nurse told me about the possibilities of addiction to these hard drugs and their side effects. The only reason she even mentioned it was that her husband had just gone through a similar experience.
        This was my first exposure to anyone who had been on hard prescription drugs. I knew he was in pain and that the painkiller they sent him home with worked. When he started going through his prescriptions quite rapidly, I was always right there to call for a new one. He had several doctors who gave him pain medication. None of them checked with the others to see if medications might interact. And because I was such a slow learner, I never even thought about this possibility. We even had some family and friends who would call in prescriptions after hours. It was all done in the name of friendship and love to help out a loved one in great pain. Addiction was not a popular topic in those days, and no one really wondered why so much medication was needed. My husband always told me that because he was such a big person, he needed twice the medication to work for him. It made sense to me.
        The great power of denial began to weave its dreadful web. My husband continued doing irrational things like having his body cast prematurely removed at the risk of causing great injury to himself and wandering around the neighborhood in a stupor, not even knowing his way home. Once a family member found him early one cold winter morning under his car with only a pair of Levis on. One day I even returned from work to find him on the floor with his eyes rolled back and with a large gash on his forehead. He had just gotten a new strain of painkillers that day and had overdosed. I called a close friend instead of an ambulance because I couldn't face the humiliation of an ambulance rushing into our apartment complex. In fact, I was so embarrassed, I couldn't even tell my family and friends about the incident. I thought this strange behavior was just part of the drugs' side effects and believed they would just go away.
        My friend and I did call poison control and monitored him until all danger had passed. I look back on that incident with much horror, because I now realize how dangerous the situation was and how pride and denial kept me from doing the right things.
        This episode did cause me to suspect that something was wrong, but I did nothing about it. I kept thinking that everything would just work itself out. By now, another dreadful arm of codependency was coming into play, that of control. I guess I had always tried to control situations. I wanted things done my way because I felt "my way" was the only right way to do things. I liked it when everyone agreed with me and the things I said. I had mapped out my life the way I wanted it to go. Now things weren't so blissful, but I was bound and determined to change them. Little did I know that I was far from stopping an uncontrollable problem. In my innocence, I knew nothing about addiction and its crippling effect on the family members.
        My husband's medical sources for prescription drugs began running low. He soon found that alcohol served the same purpose as a pain controller and depressant. It wasn't until months later that I even discovered he had started drinking. When I did, I made him promise to never do it again, and he agreed. Again, I justified the drinking as a way to stop his physical pain. Months turned into several years before I became aware that his drinking was escalating, not stopping. Menthol cough drops, mouthwashes, and eye drops can do a lot to cover up the signs. I had never really been exposed to drinking people while growing up, so I was usually fooled. And even though I sensed what was going on, I was in such a state of denial that I refused to face the truth.
        I began a serious effort to control the alcoholic and his behavior. I didn't want anyone to know what kind of horrible secret we had in our home. When the drinking was more obvious, I would always wind up in a fight with the alcoholic. I made him promise to quit drinking by pleading, scolding, punishing, and threatening. I told him if we just prayed harder, the drinking would just stop. Then I would end the conversation with a threat of divorce if he didn't comply. He always promised me that there would be no more drinking and I would be satisfied. Then there would be peaceful days ahead until the situation repeated itself.
        I used many things to try to control the alcoholic. I frequently phoned in excuses for him at his work. I drove him to work. I hid car keys. I crushed antabuse into his alcohol. I constantly searched the house for any bottles so I could dump them out. I became a great detective in finding out where and what my husband was doing. If one thing didn't work, I would try something else. Several times he pleaded for help, but I always thought I could do something more to help him because I didn't want anyone to know our "secret." Besides, deep down inside, I believed I would be a failure if I couldn't stop him from drinking.
        My time was consumed with the alcoholic and what he was doing. I was constantly worrying, calling, crying, or screaming, and I didn't share these feelings with anyone. Several times I came close, but stopped short because of my fear that people would know I wasn't perfect, that in fact I had a great problem in my household, especially a problem that was against church standards. I became withdrawn from all my friends and family and began to take out all my frustration on my children, by yelling at them over little incidents. Then I would feel guilty for not being a "good" mom. I felt I needed to work harder in the PTA, do more in my church jobs, and do more in general so that I could be "blessed" with my husband's sobriety.
        Finally, the alcoholism took a downslide. There was a DUI, a job loss, and more health problems. Our marriage held on only by a thread. The state required counseling and requested both of us attend as part of the DUI restitution. I remember walking into the counselor's office with hate in my eyes. "Why did I need counseling? My husband was the one with the problem not me." I honestly felt that if the drinking would just stop, all would be peaceful and happy again, and my "blissful" scenario could then start again. The counselor looked at me and told me I was addicted to the alcoholic, and I needed help too. At that time I thought he was crazy. But I began to learn about addiction through all the films we watched during the counseling sessions, and my eyes began to open a little.
        After this year of counseling had ended, I hit my own "bottom." We had just finished a few months of sobriety when the alcoholic started to act really strange. I knew he was going out to drink. One night, I pleaded with him not to go out. I just knew what was going to happen. I even grabbed onto the car door as he drove out of the driveway to try to stop the car. I stormed into the house and wrote in a notebook. The kids were already asleep, so I rehearsed my "divorce speech" and paced the floor. Of course, I tried to sleep but sleep wouldn't come. Finally, at 3 a.m., I heard the car pull into the driveway. When my husband opened the door, I started my tirade. There I was, screaming and yelling at a person who was too drunk to even hear me. I threw the notebook with my "famous letter" in it. It was then that I thought I was actually mentally losing it. I stopped for a moment and saw myself as this crazy, mad woman. It was then I decided that I did need help.
        Fortunately, my husband knew he needed help and began going to a treatment center. He had previously told the "secret" to both of our parents and to priesthood leaders. The family support group at the treatment center couldn't wait to start working on me. They couldn't believe the denial I was in and the lack of knowledge I had of my alcoholic's addiction. My eyes really started to open now. With their encouragement, I attended my first 12-step group. I wore dark glasses because I cried all through the meeting, and I didn't want anyone to recognize me. The people were wonderful, and they encouraged me to go back. I did.
        The years have now passed since these episodes. I found a home in 12-step groups like Al-Anon and SAVE. My recovery began because I learned that I played a part in the whole cycle of addiction, too. I honestly believed that after the first treatment center, we could put alcoholism into our back pockets and never face its evil again. How wrong I was. With the help of others, I realized that it had taken time to get into this mess, and it would take time to dig out and rebuild our lives. We weren't part of the fortunate few who found sobriety the first time around, either. It has been a long road of treatment, relapse, and recovery. However, the periods of sobriety and serenity have gotten longer each time for both the alcoholic and myself. I have since learned that I slip back into codependence just as he slips back into alcoholism, and I have to work on a program to maintain my serenity.
        One of the greatest problems I have faced in my recovery is that I tend to do well with my program only when the alcoholic is also doing well with his program. I had to learn to base my own happiness on myself, and not on others. If I want a good day, I need to make it that way. It was hard to learn to detach myself from the alcoholic because I had spent so much time intertwining my life with his as I tried to control him. The realization that I was still a good person whether or not he was drinking came to me one day.
        After about one year of Al-Anon, I actually felt like a great burden was being lifted from my shoulders. I was beginning to realize that I didn't need to take care of everyone else and their problems. I remember getting ready for a camping trip, and I let everyone help and get their own equipment. It was so nice! I didn't even plan the menus. Before, I would have spent a day making lists and getting everything ready all by myself. I was always exhausted before we had even left.
        I was also learning that I didn't need to control other people and their problems. It was a new idea for me to know that I didn't have to give my advice to every friend or family member. I learned that no one grows when they are told how to solve their problems. Rather, they grow by finding their own solutions. Besides, my opinions weren't necessarily right, and they didn't need to be. I learned to shut my mouth and listen more to others.
        Another problem I have tried to work through is letting others suffer their own consequences. I had never been able to watch others suffer, so I was always quick to rescue them from their pain. The alcoholic always knew he could count on me to get him out of sticky situations. I would make a phone call, take over a ball practice at the last moment, or run around rescuing him from any problem. I would cancel my plans if he needed help. Now, I realize that it is often only by pain that we grow or change our ways. Our Heavenly Father lets us grow through our trials, especially the ones we create ourselves.
        Codependency kept me trapped in the perception that I was not okay because those around me made mistakes. I didn't allow myself to not be the perfect mother or wife. I felt a tremendous amount of shame-based guilt that I was a failure because my husband was an alcoholic. I couldn't accept myself or him as a child of God who was a human with problems. Moreover, I couldn't share my feelings with anyone outside of the program, especially those in the church, whom I felt were constantly judging me.
        I remember one of my good friends telling me about an active LDS acquaintance who had taken up drinking. She was commenting on how awful this person was. My heart sank as I vowed never to discuss my problems with her, for fear she would think the same of someone I dearly loved. I also heard rumors of what church members were saying about us. All these times I felt like staying away from church and just not facing anyone. Through lots of meetings and help from our Heavenly Father, I worked on acceptance of myself and my husband as human beings. I learned that I'm not responsible for what others choose to do, and that I make mistakes too. I learned to love those around me again because they may not understand alcoholism and its gripping effect on the alcoholic. I learned that those with the most spite often have had similar or more serious problems to face. After I began to open up and share my feelings, others did too. Many of those I had held on a pedestal began sharing their problems with me, and I learned that since we are human, it is all right to make mistakes and that we need the help of each other to overcome our obstacles.
        In dealing with alcoholism, I learned to focus on myself through a 12-step program. Sometimes I would go to a meeting and think I hadn't gained anything. However, in times of hardship, the words of one of the members or a slogan from a meeting would come to my mind. This would be enough to help me through those times of extra trials.
        A slogan I like for times of crisis is "Do what you normally would be doing." I remind myself of this and find that if I stay busy, my mind stays off my problems. Another one that has helped me is to "Keep mind and body in one place." In other words, concentrate on what you should be doing and force yourself to do just that. Choosing a later time to worry about my problems has really helped.
        "Let go and let God" is another of my favorite sayings. I have to remember that our Heavenly Father loves the alcoholic more than I do. When I can turn the alcoholic over to our Heavenly Father's care, I leave the responsibility of the alcoholic's actions to himself. Essentially, it means that I humble myself to accept the "Lord's will," not "my will." I don't try to force solutions to the problem. I don't know what the alcoholic needs to go though in this life, so I need to allow him the dignity to stumble through his own consequences. I need to remember that if I have faith in the Lord, He will show me what I need to know about the alcoholic and his behavior. He will help me know how to cope with the problem if I can clear my mind by "letting go and letting God."
        Last of all, when I am in the throes of dealing with addiction, Satan would have me give up. When there is one bad day, it is so easy to think that the next day can only be as bad, if not worse. I can easily be drawn into feeling sorry for myself and in thinking I am quite a victim. Neither attitude lets me think about myself and my own eternal progression. If I think that way I quickly give up working on my own program because I'm consumed in hurt and sorrow over someone else's actions. Faith and hope that tomorrow can bring sobriety need to permeate my thoughts. By allowing my Heavenly Father to care for the alcoholic, my burden can be lifted.