... then again, considering the source I really should not be surprised.

Today I received an angry e-mail from <drum roll, please> FF or "former fiance" - [the intelligent and sexy alcoholic who wouldn't admit his problem, tried AA, lied about attending, and decided it was easier to hide drinking a fifth, quart or whatever-it-is of Jim Beam in his room at home rather than face the bullshit and get a handle on his problem.  (I say that because he confessed to "only having had a drinking problem during and after my marriage of four years..."  I met him a couple years post-marriage/divorce and his "only" problem was that he was - still - a drinker.]

Against ALL my internal signals I tied the blinders on very snug and dated this man for several years, even weakly accepted a marriage-cum-sobriety proposal one Valentine's Day weekend about three years ago....  At 40-something I knew better.  When his lying became unbearable I finally had enough and Break-Up Attempt #1 happened. 

As of last summer I think I was up to about eight FAILED attempts.  Eight.  Simple math - make that, what? - about two or three times a year?  Sweet Jesus.  Who has the addiction here??

Unfortunately, I'm what  some people call "too nice."  Others call it "stupid."   Still others call it, "indifferent and ambivalent"... if only they knew. <sigh>  If I had a therapist s/he'd say I was co-dependent.   Because of this character flaw  the break-up process (if you can call it an actual process) took longer than the actual good/fun part of the relationship (which was in the very beginning).  As of last summer we were at five years.   The first six months was a mix of great attraction and passion with a healthy panic on my part as I tried internally to work out the details of his closet drinking (which I hated, and instead of learning how to deal with it - which would have been to break with him completely ) but I donned the old blinders and stayed.  The second and third year we did things together - a few family dinners, a holiday dinner (my mother made that into a disaster and, sadly, I reacted the way I always have... poorly); we went on a group camping trip with his long-time friends; a couple get away weekends to a charming fishing shack in Napeague Bay.  We had fun when I wasn't worrying in the back of my mind, about whether or not he was being honest.... 

What made things worse for me was that being alone together was fine.  We cooked, drew or read together or separately, took walks, sat in front of the fireplace; sometimes we read to each other.  I loved those times - they were safe and sober and peaceful.  They were what I'd hoped to have from the start. 

Inside I knew:  The unspoken truth has always been that the ultimate source of our demise would be his issue(s) and how he shat on my trust.  (Which is partially my fault for staying after it happened a second, third, fourth time....)  And the fact that I am at my core not able (which is not "can't" or "don't want to" or "won't") to be any closer. 

No amount of love, sex, food preparation, offers to do laundry, or offers to 'just trust' him were enough.  Nor was there anything I could do, say, be, act-as-if, pray for, draw-the-line about that would miraculously brign back my ability to trust.  He wants more time and affection than I am willing to give.  And I don't like being pushed or told how I should be scheduling my free time; or that I should be going to therapy (in order to find a way to be with him), or being told if I'd 'just listen' or 'just spend more time' or 'just do what I suggested'.   

I am not an addict.  I'm pretty bad at hiding stuff.  I keep a blog and had a '365' project, and a page on StumbleUpon... not hiding.  And he might agree with one exception.  I have vanished slowly rather than pull the band-aid that holds literally nothing in place.  I do care for and love him;  but he is not the right man for me.

It's not a match no matter how many times he proclaims love or a need to be needed, or that we can just sleep together whenever I'm missing him... No.  I cannot drag us through anymore, no matter how I did it before - through the "maybe this time" of experience.

This, after alternately writing how much he understood my need to separate, have my space, cultivate my hobbies and friendships, be independent,  But he doesn't understand.  He doesn't like what I have to say because it leaves him with nothing but his addiction, feelings of abandonment (which are crippling for many people), and the plain truth (in place long before we met). 

I'd hoped my feelings would change on their own.

And I am no longer able  to do it anymore.  Again.

Over the course of the last year or so I've started, finished, and re-started some self-help books.  (This is nothing new.  My tendency to over-think and over-analyze rivals Woody Allen's neurosis and self-examination.  I just don't make movies about it.)  Luckily, most of the time, I see the quirk and humor in life and that saves me from wading out into the deep end.

I've 'done' therapy and found it worked best as a place to acquire skills or tools, if you will.  Get me some new tools, go into the world, try 'em out...  If they worked I didn't return to therapy for a while.  If they didn't work - or if I wasn't working them - I'd head back to the therapist for another go.  Once I chewed away at the really big stuff therapy was all about tool-sharpening and skills acquisition.  You might call it "maintenance."

With my current schedule what it is office appointment therapy sessions are out of the question.  So, instead, I read.  Two of the more helpful books I've listed below.  (Both are quite good, well written.  I'm reading the second one again, and read the notes I highlighted in the first to remind me not to make knee-jerk choices when it comes to relationships - any - not just romantic.  This part is pretty easy as I'm not "invovled" at the moment.)

Too Good to Leave, Too Bad to Stay: A Step-by-Step Guide to Help You Decide Whether to Stay In or Get Out of Your Relationship (Paperback)
by Mira Kirshenbaum (Author)

Codependent No More: How to Stop Controlling Others and Start Caring for Yourself (Paperback)
by Melody Beattie

The reading helps.  I like the pace of reading and being able to go back and re-read.
Therapy helped, too.  Sometimes after a session I'd sit in my car and write like crazy (that's funny), reiterating the entire hour so I could remember the revelations, learn, and heal.  

A good therapist will challenge you to see and hopefully accept all the parts of yourself, even the ones you keep ignoring...  It took a while but I learned my ignored bits were expert troublemakers, and they purposely got in the way (or were put in the way <ahem>) to keep me in a familiar cycle of whatever-it-was I was ultimately trying to change.  The thing no one ever tells you is that a good therapist is a guide - they don't do the work.  You do.  So if you're not experiencing "results" don't blame your therapist.  Blame yourself. 

Therapy is hard.  It has been said the more you are willing to dig and haul out the rotting, irritating, under-shit that is literally eating away at you, the better off you will be.  You know - like the eggplant you forgot in the crisper drawer...?  Yeah, that stuff. 

Deep, honest introspection can be ugly, humiliating, mind-numbing and darkly depressing.  It exposes you.  It can wreck you for days - weeks - especially when you slam into a nerve you didn't know existed... or were ignoring.  Especially when you're finally facing stuff you are afraid of or indignant to change in the first place.  Ideas, beliefs, behaviors, reasonings (or lack of any of those things).

Back in my 20's I had a lot of ignored bits.  There were a few biggies in my 30's that needed face-offs, too.
The funky thing is that when I shoved my head back under the sand to keep ignoring stuff, there they all were:  staring back at me from the dark.  Big, HUGE, white eyes like in a cartoon when the scene suddenly plunges into pitch black ,and only the character's eyeballs are lobbing about the screen.  Eventually I couldn't run, they couldn't hide, and I was literally sick of being in so much pain all the time, stuck in relationship after relationship that I could not save, be loved in or enjoy:  I finally, blessedly reached The End.  Something had to change - and, ultimately what happened is that I made the decision to let go of what no longer worked, what hurt me or tried to.  This included people - family, lovers, friends; ideas about myself and who I was.  The words "just" and "supposed" were examined closely.  

The letting go was terrifying because when we get rid of something - anything - it leaves a void.  We fear change and being or feeling different.  The unfamiliar is awfully scary territory.

But you learn.

... when you have spaces, other (better) things come in.  Things you can choose - and that feels pretty good.  New, yes, but good, too.  (When you clean out the garage and you can finally put your car in there... so change isn't always so complicated or daunting but it does require effort.)

You have to trust the process, trust yourself, find your intuition again (because it's still in there) and keep going.  You learn.

Trust and allow change and healing to happen, even if it's a few baby steps at a time.

 OX