A Fairy Tale Ending is Not Wanted or Needed?

The colleague and friend that initially inspired this blog has - after divorcing her AH - apparently found a "dream man." Yep - she is already happily out there in the dating scene and has found a real gem! Likewise, another dear old friend who suffered in a mentally abusive marriage for years has also found her "dream man" and is engaged to be married. And...ANOTHER pal is engaged to be married after losing her husband only 10 months ago. I am thrilled and happy for all of them.

Now all of these women are much better looking than me and it IS my understanding after reading many of those "dating after 50" articles that men are all really after the looks and that's basically it (meaning, my "stacks 'o brains and personality" aren't gonna cut it with the over 50 male set)....but this post isn't about that. Meaning, I am not going to moan about being a "plankton" (lowest life form on the sexual food chain...) and THAT is what this post is really about!

In a fairy tale world, my sons and I would have been swept away by a dream Hubby/Daddy after all the dreadfulness that we have endured. And actually that was one of those fantasies that kind of kept me going during the alcoholic awful years. I used to wonder about all those fellas out there and how exciting it would be that once Hubby was gone I would get to explore the wonderful world of romance again. Really, it DID keep me going....that romantic dream. In fact I used to feel pretty guilty about it; almost as if I wanted Hubby to go to the great beyond so that this new family life could begin. I anticipated the social whirl.

Then came that long night after Hubby's accident. When they used his living will to do the "pull the plug" order on my brain dead husband. I went into his hospital room one more time before they pulled the plug and kissed his still "alive" warm cheek and whispered, "Forgive me...I tried to do my best...." And 15 minutes later he was officially pronounced dead.

And I have had absolutely no desire at all to date or pursue romantic companionship or find any sort of "dream man" since! I even think that for awhile I had a bit of a crush on my karate instructor and you know, after Hubby died...I just looked at that instructor and thought, "Ugh...no way!" At first I thought that this was a natural reaction - that, of course, I was grieving and didn't want to do or feel anything unseemly. But after almost 4 years, I have had to admit that this part of my life is simply dead to me and I have zero desire to resurrect it. It is very odd to think that the last time I had sex was 9 years ago (because alcoholic men lose that function almost immediately it seems) and that I don't miss it! And I used to have lots of romance and sex and the whole nine yards...I was never a prude or a prig!

Now, this doesn't mean that I have let myself go to the dogs. I exercise and keep fit and take pride in my appearance. But that is because I need to due to my profession and for my own self worth - not to "catch a man." I went on a couple of those dating sites at the urging of my friends and just thought, "Yuck - no way!"

I guess that the fantasy was just a way to help me through the day. In reality, Hubby was apparently the "love of my life." Oh dear - what a disappointment! But there it is. In my case I suppose, "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle" is the truth! (I think my sons are secretly relieved at this - a dating mother probably would have mortified them!)

A tale of two stashes

This past winter break I decided that I was going to finally get rid of all clutter and extraneous stuff in my house. I was quite successful - I actually now have some virtually empty closets, drawers and bins. My sons enthusiastically donated or sold all remaining Hot Wheels cars, Legos and Nerf guns. I cleared out a ton of clothes and junk and just gave things a thorough going over. When Hubby died my sister came over immediately and helped me get rid of all of the "it's got to go; too darn painful" stuff like his toothbrush, his clothing etc. But most everything else had languished. I will probably NEVER finish with the garage - the guy just had too darn many tools!

Came across some surprises which were a study in contrasts - both made me say, "Oh dear..." with a blend of sadness and madness. First one was found on Christmas Day in the drawer of my desk (and I swear I have opened that drawer a zillion times and have NEVER seen this before):

Well, you can just imagine the effect this had on me ..... I still don't know what to say. I wonder when he wrote this; obviously during one of his more lucid moments. It may have been during the final three weeks of his life after the intervention at the hospital. When he was off the alcohol and actually seemed very much at peace.

The second one was - when I was cleaning out my kitchen cabinets and putting new shelf paper in, I got on a ladder and got into the very tippety-top shelf and wouldn't you know it - I found 3 shot glasses FULL of VERY OLD (4 years old) BOOZE stashed up in the darkest corner!

Wish Hubby had stashed a little bit more of the love and a little bit less of the booze... Ah well...

Another Anxiety Attack

Last fall on two occasions I was called in because my oldest son had an "anxiety attack" (for want of a better term - they are not really about anxiety, they are about frustration). During these events, my son becomes very upset with the behavior of others and it leads to him kind of "freaking out" (once again - for want of a better term) - he does no harm to others; he harms himself (he starts hitting himself in the face). He goes to therapy for this and when these occur we really step up the visits until he calms down again.

I have asked my son about this and he talks about feeling "separate" from others due to the experiences that he has had. Most of these have to do with his early years as a child of an alcoholic but some also have to do with the considerable amount of travel he has done and mission work in third world countries that we have done as a family (he has seen a lot of poverty). His frustration is with the fact that his school mates - in his words - "don't know what is important. They think they have problems but they really don't. They have drama about the dumbest things. It makes me so mad because they have no clue how hard life can be......"

My younger son has said these same things to me but does not have the "attacks." He kind of just shrugs, says "Meh, they are idiots" and moves along his merry way (or goes fishing - he is a bit of an introvert).

It has been observed by more than one person who knows my sons that they have "old souls." They are definitely different from their peers.

The point of this post is: living with an alcoholic parent is going to AFFECT your kids. No matter how hard you try to protect them. This EFFECT (I hate when folks use "affect" and "effect" incorrectly!) needs to be a MAJOR PART of your decision of whether to stay or go as a spouse of an alcoholic. I must admit that I had no clue that it would have this profound of an effect - I thought I could protect them pretty well and in retrospect, I did, but knowing then what I know now, I may have risked the severe financial and legal ramifications to remove my sons from the situation.

Ah well - hindsight is 20/20 and there are some advantages to being a child with an "old soul", I imagine. But - I am letting others who may be struggling with the "stay or go" decision have a bit of insight into what can happen. Hope it helps and doesn't just lead to further muddying of your waters. And above all - no matter what decisions you make about the entire horrible situation - NEVER FEEL GUILTY. You have your reasons - you are a smart and good person - it is no one else's business.

You all are in my thoughts....

I am back!

Hello to everyone - yes, it has been almost 8 months since I last posted. Life just got very over-whelming - not in a bad way; just in the normal "I am a single mother with two teen-aged sons" way. Many things have happened since I last posted which was right after I got back from a much promised (to myself and to my sons) trip to London and Paris with my sons. BTW - I am still paying off that trip but I do not regret it for the world!

I have been scribbling down ideas for posts during these months so I am not entirely bereft of ideas. Also - during these past few months, I have started to finally feel like resurrecting another part of my life which is that of a composer and musicologist. I make my living in academic IT administration but my studies and advanced degrees have all been in music and I have written many pieces and had many performances and also wrote an award-winning book.

I am working on the second edition of that book, a new piece of music, and another book. But sometimes I still just get so incredibly tired and find myself just watching TV or walking the dog. Nothing wrong with that - at least the things in life that currently "overwhelm me" and sap my creative spirit are not "real problems or issues" anymore - they are just the normal tiredness of motherhood. When you pour a lot of creative energy into keeping your children on the right and upward path, there is not much left for musical notes.

This creative "come back" has been a long time in coming. I ceased all creative endeavors in 2006 (with the exception of a short, commissioned piece of music in 2009) when it became quite obvious to me that my husband for SOME reason (remember, it took me a long while to figure out what was wrong with him) was seriously on the skids. I quickly determined that my creative energies were going to need to be focused on my family. Little did I realize how all-consuming that would be. Then in 2012 after Hubby died, a few days later I saw a musical colleague on campus who was involved in many of the same creative organizations and conferences that I was who quite naturally asked me how I was doing (in the wake of Hubby's death). I told him that I was going to be fine and to tell everyone that I was going to be fine but that I was "going to go away for awhile." Because I knew that creative recovery from the horror of those past six years was going to be long in coming.

Finally in Fall 2015 I have stopped "going away." I went to my first music conference in the fall and was heartened at the warm welcome back. One of my colleagues actually mistook me for another composer who is about 30 years younger than I am. While we were laughing about this she said, "But you must understand that when I saw you last, you looked 30 years older than you were. Now you look 30 years younger than you are!" Yes - having the weight of the world off of your shoulders makes a big difference.

I still follow the blogs in our "partner of alcoholics" community quite faithfully. Especially, I think about Sandy of Taking Back Me and Linda of The Immortal Alcoholic daily (often several times a day) and everyone else who is still dealing with this awful and untenable situation. I will celebrate the days that the weight of the world lifts from their shoulders and from others' shoulders.

I am getting back into the writing and creative game again and look forward to participating more fully again in this community.

Turning Point

A "common wisdom" amongst widows is that it generally takes about two years to adjust to one's new life and circumstances and also to clear up the residual business of the departed. With me it is taking a bit longer because I have had to mainly concentrate on raising my sons (neither of whom is low maintenance!) while working full time.

However, I seem to have reached a bit of a turning point now. Oh sure - there is still stuff to do. I have barely scratched the surface on finishing with the clean up of Hubby's garage and barn (all his car stuff including items which as I stumble upon them I ship to a museum in California) and I seem to still be opening drawers that are full of surprises to clear out. At least the alcohol stashes have all been found near as I can tell! But estate things are finished, the house and yard have been repaired and restored post-alcoholic-neglect and destruction and I have redone my will and all that kind of stuff.

Symbolic of the end of the beginning as it were was a trip that I took with my sons this summer to London and Paris. I have been to London and England fairly often in connection with my music and research but I had not been to Paris in almost 25 years. I went when I was a young composer with a residency at the studios of West German Radio in Cologne, Germany. From Cologne you could take an overnight train to Paris and I did so almost every weekend of the three months I lived there. I really loved Paris and got to know it well. I also remember telling myself that if I ever had children that I would bring them to Paris to show them the magic of the city because it just seemed like something children should experience. This has always been a bit of an obsession with me - when both of my boys were babies I would hold them close and tell them all about our trip to Paris. And my oldest son was always asking me when we were going to go to Paris.

Like the picture in my earlier post, I held on to that dream during the really awful times. During those times, a trip to Paris seemed near impossible to even think about. However, I DID think of it as being a great vacation escape from "Drunk Daddy" and began planning as such. Then Hubby died and everything was on hold again.

In mid-June (before the heat wave there, thank goodness! It was a balmy 80 degrees the whole time we were there) my sons and I stepped into the Tuileries on our first early evening in the city. And I just lost it. Broke down and cried and cried and hugged my boys. Telling them about how finally my dream had come true. Needless to say - we had a wonderful, magical time.

Since then I have really felt at peace. Now I think I am truly moving on. Even meeting with a broker to plan my savings for my retirement. Wow!

And on July 4th, my brother-in-law came in from my garage fridge with a beer; one of the few I had saved from Hubby's stash because it was expensive British beer and is great for flavoring chili (I still have about 10 bottles in the fridge) and he said, "I found this awesome beer! May I have one?!" and I, of course, said "Sure!" and chuckled to myself.

I hope for peace of mind and heart for you all as well.

"We'll always have Paris...." -- Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) Casablanca

This is the Fantasy

Here is the fantasy. The way we all imagine it might turn out. The way our alcoholic (or other substance abuser) might romantically change:

It isn't going to happen that way.....

A Picture to Focus On

One day when I was in a crafts store I found a small poster print that had all of the aesthetic elements and colors and ideas that I wanted in my house. Now before I go any further, let me explain to all of you (and, well, many of you will already know this!) that life with an alcoholic can get quite messy. Not only is there the physical mess (mid-to-end stage alcoholics have little control over body functions and also Hubby tended to stagger around a lot and crash into walls and furniture leaving big pits and scars) but one becomes so caught up in keeping life all together in the house and environs that gradually stuff can start to go to hell in a hand basket. Luckily - in my case - I was sharing the place with three males (one of whom was a drunk and the other two were little boys) so they never noticed!

Anyway, being a bit of a "Martha Stewart type", I bought the print and put it leaning up against the wall by my side of the bed. While I was still sharing a bed with Hubby, I would stare at it when he was tossing and turning about so much that I could not sleep or after a particularly bad day of being told how awful I was and how awful life was and how everything sucked etc. by Hubby. In short - I would stare at it when I was miserable in the dark.

Sometimes I would stare at it for a while and then I would close my eyes and pray for awhile - this is the only time in my life when I have ever prayed and the prayer was not spoken; I was literally in a sort of cocoon with God - hard to explain maybe like a Vulcan Mind Meld?! (haha!). And then I would stare at it again and know...just know..that someday the print would guide me into cleaning up the mess that would remain after the inevitable happened.

It has been over three years since Hubby's death and I still have not cleaned up ALL the mess. There are still a few cabinets and a barn to go through. A couple of shelves in the garage. But - for the most part - all of the physical plant of the house has been fixed, cleaned, remodeled and done. The last piece was completed yesterday; when I came home from work a new fence surrounded my back yard.

And all of it...all of it stemmed from that print. The colors, the simplicity, the slight Asian feel (well, I am a martial artist!), the peace. I hung it on the wall of my new master bathroom. It is all done.

I hope that each and every one of you has something that you can focus on that takes you away from the misery every once and awhile. Something that gives you peace...and a goal.

“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.” -- Anne Lamott (Bird by Bird)