Our media has been flooded with stories about drugs, from personal confessions of addicts to the overnight success of books like ¼ Gram. The raw, honest stories, told from the addicts’ point of view have opened up a necessary discussion to create an understanding of the rampant problem in our society. Alter Ego editor Adel Heine went in search of the other side of those stories and found out what it is like to share your life with an addict.
We meet in a quiet, public place. She is not ashamed to tell her story, but she does not want to be condemned by a judgemental society for what was not her mistake. As with most well kept secrets, you would never suspect that drugs were part of her life for the better part of three years. She is well groomed, well educated and successful, and seems to enjoy the life that her privileged upbringing prepared her for. The truth is very different.
“When I met my husband I liked him enormously, we shared similar backgrounds, intelligence, and sense of humour. But he was very different from everyone else. He was daring, had a devil-may-care attitude that really appealed to me,” she says. “I guess that even if I am not conservative in my way of thinking or approach to life, the rules of the society I live in usually stopped me from fully pursuing what I would want to do. He had this wild streak and I loved that about him.”
She smiles as she remembers those days; they hold good memories for her. “In his youth he had had a problem with drugs, but by the time I met him it was a thing of the past. His family who lived through those dark years with him were sometimes more suspicious than supportive; I thought it was unfair to keep punishing someone for things that had happened in their past.”
Her voice changes when she says: “One of the things I hate most about his addiction is that it has made me into a liar. I had always been honest to my family, but I wanted to marry this man and not give my parents any reason to not accept him as my husband.”
She became successful in her field, but reality for her partner was different. “During our time together he changed jobs a few times. I did not see it at the time, but looking back I recognise a clear pattern. He would start a new job, would be full of enthusiasm, work long hours and give it his all. He would like his colleagues, and get on well with his boss, but then things would change; he would get moody, would tell less flattering stories about co-workers, and difficulties with his superiors would ensue. Until, suddenly, he would resign, and the cycle would start all over again.”
It never worried her until they got married. And even then she thought he was just unlucky. “My career was going well, so whenever he lost his job we could live of what I earned and I also had some money saved. Being ‘together’ to me means you share everything, but that was not what I got in return,” she adds sadly.
The quirky behaviour she found so charming when they first met, turned out to be less pleasant to live with on a daily basis. “He was often moody, quiet, and unresponsive, and then able to perform a complete turnaround: tell me I was his reason for living and he was nothing without me. Beautiful words which often did not translate into action; it was seldom that he chose to spend time with me or show me any affection. It made me feel insecure and inadequate.”
She worried in those days: “I would try to talk about our financial situation; our savings were quickly disappearing and I was worried. He either responded with anger or would tell me he felt worthless; effectively guilt tripping me into silence. I did wonder what we were spending all this money on, but he always had an excuse. Other times he would profusely apologise and promise me the world. I believed him, he is my husband. He was just having a run of bad luck.”
She admits to being bitter when she tells me, “eventually there was nothing left. We had no more money, we were in debt. I wondered at times if he was taking drugs again, but simply thinking about it would make me feel so disloyal and guilty that I never asked. My friends worried about me, but I never complained. This was our marriage and our problem to solve.”
His behaviour made it hard to kerb her suspicions, she “would notice him disappearing for a while, spending some time in the bathroom upon return, and the he would finally emerge with a complete change in his mood. I felt disloyal and guilty to doubt him like this, but I knew I had to do something. So, one day I confronted him and the truth came out, and it was much, much worse than I could have ever imagined.”
For nearly three years she had been living a lie; “throughout our relationship he had been using heroin and any other substance he could get his hands on. And I never knew. It sounds stupid and naïve, but I had never encountered an addict before and had no idea what being addicted to a substance like that means. Knowing what I know now, it was of course glaringly obvious, but through those three years he had plausible excuses for everything. He is my husband and I love him, so why would I doubt his words?”
What hurt her most is “we did not share a life those three years. The world I lived in was based on mutual love and respect, and the desire to build a life and a future together. His world revolved around one thing and one thing only: where to get his next fix. To accommodate that hunger he used me and anyone else he could. He lied, all the time, to everyone in his life. He used the money I earned, the money I saved, and even sold some of my possessions. He lost job after job because his frequent absences and erratic behaviour would be noticed and eventually no longer tolerated. He sacrificed anything and everything in order to feed his addiction, disregarding what the effect would be on anyone or anything else,” she adds angrily.
She takes a sip of her drink and tells me she is surprised that after all these years it still makes her feel angry and hurt. “When the initial shock of that ugly truth wore off I decided to stay in my marriage. I chose this man to be my husband and he needed me now more than ever. I was not going to abandon him. So, as he started treatment to deal with his addiction, I did everything I could to help him on that road to recovery. I did not really pay attention to what this all meant to me. Not because I am so wonderful, but because I was afraid of the realisations I may have if I did think of myself.”
“As his recovery started to take shape however, he was more removed from me than ever,” she observes. “I was told this was to be expected. He was immersed in a titanic struggle and needed to focus on getting well. That was when my anger started to surface. Not only did I endure three years of a make-believe marriage, now that the man I had given myself and all my loyalties to was getting well, there still was no room for me.”
Despite her anger, she was determined to be supportive: “I found help to understand the role of the partner of an addict better, but as time passed my anger only grew. I finally had to admit to myself how betrayed I felt, and how big the betrayal was. All my memories of our time together were based on lies, everything he ever said to me was under the influence of drugs—it took me months to even begin to understand the scope of his betrayal.”
Both she and her husband struggled through a long, hard year of therapy, at first separately and later together. It has been four years since then, and in this time they have managed to finally start building a life together. “I am happy,” she says, “my husband has been drug free for five years now, we are financially stable and life has become more normal. But the experience has changed us, he still fights his addiction, every day, and I worry when I see him struggle. I have lost a large part of my innocence and trust in the world in general; I carry deep scars and have become harder, through the choices that someone else made.”
When I ask her how those three years seem in retrospect, she smiles. “Heroin is the other woman in your relationship, only she lives in your house, sleeps in your bed, eats your food and spends your money. She claims all the attention, she gets to be made love to, and you are always second best to her in the eyes of the man that you love. And as it is when you first find out your partner has an affair, you feel inadequate, insecure, blaming yourself and responsible for a while. Then you have to make a choice, you need to forgive or there is no point in continuing your relationship. It takes time to rebuild trust, because you may forgive, but you will never forget.”
There is a positive side as well, “living through the recovery of my husband also forced me to confront myself; I have learned to truly forgive and accept, and the bond between us has become very strong.”
She shakes my hand and says: “I shared my story in the hope it will help another woman, when you carry a secret this big it is sometimes unbearable. Maybe it helps to know they are not alone.”
Published in Alter Ego August 08
