** This was written several months ago, July 11th, 2011 to be exact and I wasn't sure I was going to post it, now I feel as though it's the right time.**
I started this blog to talk about my life and to use it as a therapy tool. When I first started, I blogged about every aspect of my life, but lately, I've been keeping things under wraps. This is extremely difficult for me to talk about, it's a very touchy subject, but I need to talk about this, not just for myself, but for anyone else who's going through something similar.
My boyfriend, Derek is an alcoholic. I knew this from the very beginning of our relationship. He told me that he wasn't a serious alcoholic and that he could have one drink and be OK. At the time, I believed him, it seemed like that really was the case, but as the months have gone on, the truth has come out that he does not have his alcoholism under control and he shouldn't drink at all.
Derek is one of the most amazing men, when he's sober. He's kind, considerate, respectful. He's happy, confident and loves life. He's funny, goofy and silly. He's supportive, helpful and really fun to be around. When he is sober, we have the best time together, whether we're going on a hike, fishing or just hanging out at home, watching our favorite shows.
When Derek is drunk, he's absolutely awful. He's insecure, mean and angry. He tells all kinds of lies and half truths. He's nasty, hurtful and down right scary.
Fortunately, ugly drunk Derek doesn't come out to play very often. However, these last few weeks, for several reasons, Derek is drinking much more heavily and I'm seeing a lot more of Drunk Derek than I ever wanted to see.
Over 2 years ago, Derek was arrested for a DUI. If he would have done what he was supposed to and gone to court appointed counseling, this would all be done and over with, but instead, he went to his counseling off and on, mostly off and now he's probably going to have to go to jail.
When he found out that he was probably going to have to go to jail, instead of telling me right away, he kept it a secret. He became increasingly negative and was drinking more than usual. I thought it was because of stress with his new job and some issues he was having with his best friend. Then 2 nights before his court date, it all came out.
Over the next few days, we had our worst fights ever. I found out about some lies that he'd told, on top of keeping this huge secret from me and I was furious. Part of me wanted to kick him out right then, but I couldn't. I love him so much, I wanted to be supportive and help him any way that I could.
He went to his court date and I didn't expect to see him for at least 2 to 10 days (that's the amount of jail time he could get), but he was home that evening, after I got off work. His lawyer filed a continuance and he'd have to go back in 2 weeks.
Great, now he was going to have to worry and stress another two weeks, not exactly what either of us wanted. So, we came up with a plan of action that we both could live with. He would drink until he went to jail, but when he came out, he would stop drinking and get counseling. He also agreed that when he was drinking during the next couple of weeks, he'd do everything he could to keep it under control enough to not make my life miserable.
And he did for a couple of days. Until Saturday night, when I was gone for my cousin's graduation party. I knew he was drinking, he was texting and getting angry over something so stupid, but I never imagined he was getting absolutely wasted.
When I came home, he was passed out, nothing unsual about that. I was actually happy, if he's passed out, we won't fight. He was talking in his sleep, nothing unsual about that. He started flailing around in his sleep, nothing unusual about that. Then he knocked over my full cup of water, all over himself and his side of the bed. He didn't even move, let alone wake up. Ok, that's not good.
I grabbed a towel to start cleaning up and I was asking him questions and he was talking in gibberish and not making any sense. I made him get up so I could get the sheets off the bed and then he fell.
I can still see it in my head. It keeps happening in slow motion over and over again. He falls back against the desk, he stumbles, his arm hits the French doors and then he hits the floor.
As I try to help him up the blood, there was so much blood, hitting the floor, me, him, the bed. I yell for my mom. She puts pressure on Derek's head, tells me to call 911.
Derek laying on the bed not moving. Not answering when I try talking to him.
I call, help is on the way. The police show up, then the firemen, then the EMT's. They take him to the hospital and I pack him some clothes and follow in my car.
I get to the hospital and wait for them to call me back to see him. As I'm waiting, I go through his phone, looking for messages he sent, seeing if he said anything to anyone or someone said something to him that would have set him off. I didn't find anything like that, but I did find some other things that I wish I wouldn't have.
Am I sorry I looked through his phone? Do I feel like I betrayed his privacy? Yes and no. Desperate times call for desperate measures and I was very desparate. I was so worried that he had decided to kill himself rather than go to jail, I thought I'd find emails or texts telling people good bye, instead I just found out about more lies he'd been telling.
They allow me back to see him. He's covered in blood. I was mad, no, I was FURIOUS. I couldn't hold back, I said some awful things, he said some awful things back. Then the nurse came in to check on him, us.
That calmed me a bit. There was no point fighting with Drunk Derek. He couldn't even remember from one minute to the next where he was or why he was there.
Here is an example of the conversations we were having:
Derek: Where am I?
Me: You're in the hospital. Do you know why you're here?
Derek: No.
Me: You hit your head, do you remember what happened?
Derek: I got in a fight at World Market.
Me: No, you fell and hit your head. Why would you get in a fight at World Market?
Derek: I walked in and just decided I could do whatever I wanted. Wait, was that a dream?
Me: Must have been, because you got drunk and fell and hit your head.
Derek: Oh. Why are you here? You're an idiot for being with me. Just go.
Me: Yes, I'm an idiot for loving you and I'm not going anywhere until the doctor says you can go.
And so it went, round and round for the 3 hours we were there. Sometimes he'd be happy I was there, other's he'd tell me to go, but never could he remember where he was or why he was there.
I felt really bad for the doctors and nurses. One minute, he'd be really nice and do what they asked, the next minute, he was trying to walk out, the next minute he was sexually harassing them.
This was a Derek I have never seen before and I pray I never see him again.
They finally let us go, once they'd done a cat scan to make sure there was no bleeding in his brain and they made sure he could walk by himself.
It was after 2 in the morning, we both went home and passed out. There was no fight left in either of us. The next morning, we got up and had a really long talk. Derek was so scared that I was going to leave him and he wanted another chance. He promised to be better, so I gave it to him. I love him, what else can I do?
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