The love of my life died when she was 38. Our four children were 15, 13, 11 and 9 at the time. They’re currently 22, 24, 26, 28. I did my best that I knew how to do. I know it is not what they deserved. I could never take her place.
I do not think that I can impart, with words, how hard it was keeping her from the things that would harm her most. Aa time goes on, the trauma hits me harder, as I let it in, little by little.
I love my late wife. I love the mother of my children. Keeping her from hurting herself was… Difficult.
The wracking sobs as I called 911, while performing CPR on her. It’s been almost 15 years and it’s still traumatizing.
Her mother blames me for her death. To be honest. She might be right. I didn’t keep her baby safe. I could have tried harder. I could have insisted on her being committed. I could have abrogated her right to self determination. But I didn’t. And that’s on me.
But I can’t tell her mother that. Or her sons or daughter.
Instead. I tell you. Thanks for listening.
This right here. It’s a very important lesson for any relatives of addicts.
You are the partner or the child or the parent of this addict. You are not them, and you are not their therapist. As a relative you may be further away from a “solution” or a “healing” than any other person on earth. It’s not a nice lesson but it’s important.
Don’t destroy yourself because someone else is destroying himself. Be there for the addict, and be there for yourself.