Last week my husband went golfing. I never love the days he golfs, which thankfully are few and far between, because golf tends to includes day drinking. I have not been around any day drinkers that I enjoy. I was a day drinker and that’s what ultimately took me down. Once I decided I was grown and I could drink any time I wanted to, it wasn’t long until I was drinking ALL the time because I had to. Back to last week……My husband was on the family schedule to pick our boys up from the places they needed to be picked up from. We do A LOT of running in this house. If you have children, you know. I was teaching a class that afternoon when I received a text from my husband informing me that he had been drinking shots and wouldn’t be picking up the boys. I didn’t open the text, but I could see the entire thing on my phone and I was NOT happy. I texted him back when my class was over and let him know exactly how unhappy I was. He responded by letting me know that he was on his way home and would figure it out. I too was on my way home by this point. And this is what I noticed. While I was driving, my heart was racing. I felt such a need to get home before he did or at least right behind him. In my mind he was completely fucked up, and as soon as he got home, he would leave again. I would be alone. I felt like I needed to rush home and stop him. Or something. And I was rushing. Heart racing and speeding down the road. In that moment, something shifted in me for the first time ever. I was triggered and I knew it. I knew exactly what the trigger was. I could feel the familiar feelings in my body. Fear. Sadness. And the one that really struck me was grief. I felt grief. I noticed all of these things and I slowed the car down. I stopped rushing and I took some slow breaths. These feelings had nothing to do with my husband and everything to do with my Ex husband. The father of my two oldest children. Don’t get me wrong, I was still pissed at my husband, but the reality is that he had two shots at the clubhouse in celebration of a hole in one that happened on the course. (Not by him) He wasn’t going anywhere. Yes, I would have preferred if he had passed those up and went to pick up the boys, but I was also happy that he didn’t drive after those two shots. Maybe there were beers involved too, I can’t remember. He wasn’t hammered. He just didn’t feel like it was safe for him to drive our boys. I was pissed because I had no plans and would have liked it to stay that way, but on this particular evening, I ended up doing the driving. Back to being triggered……because looking at it now, I am certain that I have been triggered in this way so many times without being able to identify it for what it was. I was reacting to the two years I lived with a man in relapse. The two years that I tried to hold my little family together. I was married to a wonderful man with a horrible addiction. We were both clean and sober when we met. We married and had two beautiful babies. Then he relapsed. I actually think he relapsed when I was pregnant with our second child. For the longest time, I was in denial about it. I thought he was sick. He let me believe that. He saw Dr’s and Neurologists to try to figure out what was wrong with him. I had a sick husband, a toddler and a new baby to care for. It was A LOT. He had been diagnosed as having “absence seizures.” The reality is that he was taking massive amounts of pills and nobody had any idea. One evening I had the children packed up in the car waiting on him to come home from work. We had an appointment with a photographer to have family portraits made. He was supposed to come home at 4:00, jump in the car and then we would leave. But he didn’t come home. We waited and waited until the babies got tired of being in the car. He wasn’t answering his phone and I was worried and I was getting pissed. I took the kids inside and my phone rang. It was one of the local hospitals. Apparently my husband had a seizure and was in the hospital. Then, the rest of the story followed. After work he had gone to the UPS store to pick up a package that had been delivered to him there. It was a package from an internet pharmacy. The package contained a bottle of Soma muscle relaxers and a bottle of Loritab pain killers. He opened the package in the UPS store and took a handful of the Somas and fell out in the floor. The UPS store called 911 and he was transported to the hospital. My life changed in that moment. My husband wasn’t sick. He was a drug addict. I mean, he WAS sick because of his addiction, but there was no medical reason beyond the pills he was taking for the seizures. The Dr asked if I knew about the internet pharmacy, which of course, I did not. There were a lot of things I had no idea about. I didn’t tell anyone in my family or his family. I had no friends to speak of outside of the Mom’s that I sometimes did kid’s things with. I didn’t want anyone to know that my world was falling apart. I sent him to the treatment center where he and I had both gotten clean. Over the next two years, I sent him there several times. He never stopped using. His using escalated. Cocaine. Heroin. All of it. After spending the majority of my life addicted, I was clean and had no desire to use drugs. All I wanted was for my husband to choose us over drugs. All I wanted was to have my happy family and live the dream that we were building before he relapsed. But it was not to be. After two years of fighting for him I had to let him go. I had to save myself and my children from the horror of drug addiction. I filed for divorce while he was off on a spree. He never showed up in the span of time that it took me to file, take the parenting class that is mandatory in the state of TN for parents filing for custody, and go to court two times. On the day our divorce was granted, he called me. Not because he had any idea that we were now divorced. He called because he had used up every last resource he had available to him and was ready to go back to treatment. I picked him up at a local gas station, gave him $10 and put him on a plane to California. Then I went home and cried for days. I put the children to bed and drank myself to sleep at night. My heart had been broken a thousand different times in those years. My heart hurt for my children. My heart hurt for me. My heart hurts right now as I write this. My children saw their father one more time. The spring before we moved to NC he came from California where he was now working at the treatment center. And he was high when he arrived. He nodded out the entire weekend. It was incredibly hard to watch and of course I was pissed at him and at the treatment center. I put him on the plane back to California when the weekend was over and called the center to let him know that he was still using. We moved to NC soon after that weekend and continued to keep in contact with him. We all loved him so. My current husband knew him before I did. A story for another time. But, when I say that he was a wonderful human, it’s because he really was. He was my best friend. He was brilliant, kind, compassionate and hilarious. Addiction sucks. In late September of 2009, I received a phone call from my ex mother in law. She told me that he had been found dead in the bathroom of the halfway house he was living in. I had to tell my children that they would never see their dad again. They were too young to understand words like overdose and they didn’t need to know that at the time. I held my children and cried with them. Drug addiction sucks. I hope that he can see how wonderful his children are. They are all the beautiful things that I loved about him. I see him in them every day. Last week, when I felt the trigger of being left alone, it was a powerful and healing moment for me. It gave me an opportunity to sit with the sadness. The sadness that most likely will always be with me on some level. It gave me an opportunity to talk to my husband about the sadness I was feeling. And he listened. We had the most beautiful conversation and he was there for me. As open as I can be when I sit behind a laptop writing, face to face is still quite a challenge for me. But I’ll get there.