05/08/2025
๐ ๐๐ผ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ถ๐บ, ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐๐ฒ ๐ง๐ต๐ถ๐ ๐๐ฟ๐๐ด ๐จ๐๐ฒ
โBye. Love you.โ
โLove you,โ I said.
We kissed, and then he vanished for five days. I called and called. No answer. At first, I thought I was being ghosted and sent angry texts. Then I got concerned.
โCan you just tell me youโre okay?โ I texted. โIโm really starting to worry.โ
Nothing.
I sent another pleading text. No response.
Soon, I heard that nobody had seen or been able to reach him since the day he left my apartment, and I just knew heโd relapsed.
He hadnโt been back to his sober living for days. Didnโt go into work. My gut said this wasnโt just a run โฆ this was som**hing much worse.
Heโd been a heavy op**te user since he was 18. When I met him at a friendโs house 15 months prior, heโd been 45 years old with about two and a half years of sobriety.
๐โ๐บ ๐ป๐ผ๐ ๐ถ๐ป๐๐๐ถ๐๐ถ๐๐ฒ, ๐ฏ๐๐ ๐๐ผ๐บ๐ฒ๐ต๐ผ๐, ๐ ๐ธ๐ป๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ ๐ต๐ฎ๐ฝ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ป๐ถ๐ป๐ด
When youโve been battling mental illness and addiction your whole life, itโs hard to hear (let alone trust) your intuition. Iโve never been psychic. Iโm like the opposite of psychic, whatever that is. Seriously. So this is going to sound crazy. But I had not one but two visions of him during those five excruciating, mysterious days when he was missing. In one, I saw him using and overdosing in his car. I got the distinct feeling that he was going to die if somebody didnโt find him. Then I had another where I saw him in the hospital. โSurely, these couldnโt be real,โ I said to myself. โDonโt be ridiculous. Suddenly, youโre Miss Cleo? Please, Amy.โ
Bizarrely and unfortunately, my visions were spot on. A good Samaritan spotted him slumped over his steering wheel in his parked car and called the cops. The cops took him to the hospital, where he tested positive for fentanyl and m**hamphetamine. He had been in the same position for so long, a blood clot had formed in his leg. He couldnโt remember anything. His MRI was abnormal, showing a lot of swelling in the brain. He was put on blood thinners and released to his mother. A day later, he was back in the hospital for more tests. He stayed there for five more days.
๐ง๐ต๐ถ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐๐ปโ๐ ๐ฎ ๐๐๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ป ๐๐ฝ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฒ, ๐ฏ๐๐ ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฎ ๐น๐ผ๐ป๐ด๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐น๐ฎ๐ฝ๐๐ฒ
He finally confessed to me that heโd been using for the last six to nine months. I had felt him pulling away, but Iโd thought he was super busy, or maybe he just wasnโt feeling the relationship anymore. I noticed he was late a lot, but he had ADHD and accompanying โtime blindness,โ so that was hardly surprising. Sometimes his personality did seem different: angrier, meaner, more irritable โฆ but I thought he just didnโt like me anymore. However, with this new information, everything took on a new light.
โWhy didnโt you tell me?โ I asked, face full of tears. โI relapsed for 20 years. You didnโt think Iโd get it?โ
โI didnโt tell anybody,โ he said quietly.
๐ ๐๐ฎ๐๐ปโ๐ ๐ฝ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฒ๐บ๐ผ๐๐ถ๐ผ๐ป๐ฎ๐น ๐ฟ๐ผ๐น๐น๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฐ๐ผ๐ฎ๐๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐ฎ ๐น๐ผ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ผ๐ป๐ฒ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐น๐ฎ๐ฝ๐๐ฒ
I felt so violated and betrayed and angry and sad. But I also felt grateful he was alive. I had so much cognitive dissonance that Iโd just emotionally bounce from rage to sadness to relief, over and over again. And he was so ashamed, he was the perfect target.
โIโm so so sorry,โ he sobbed as we held each other on my bed. โI love you. Iโm sorry.โ
I rubbed his back. I felt sad, but then my rage would kick in. โYou fu***ng lied to me! For months! I donโt even know who you are. Whatโs not a lie? Do you really love me?โ Venom spewed from my lips. I know addiction is not a choice or a moral issue, nor does it deserve punishment.
โWasnโt it lonely to keep that secret from everyone for so long?โ I asked.
โVery,โ he said.
The truth is I HAD been him. How could I judge him? And then an epiphany: โWait, oh my god, this is exactly what I put my friends and family through. For years. F**k.โ I never dreamt Iโd be on the other side. And, boy, was it horribly enlightening.
๐๐ถ๐ฒ๐ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ป๐ถ๐ฎ๐น ๐๐๐ฟ๐ฟ๐ผ๐๐ป๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐
It probably wasnโt the best idea, but I let him stay with me for two weeks before he went into treatment. He kept testing positive for morphine, and he was heading for a sober living and IOP that required people to be at least 24 hours clean. It wasnโt like inpatient treatment, with a detox.
He denied knowing why he was testing positive for morphine.
โMaybe they gave it to me in the hospital?โ he pondered.
โNo, they didnโt. I read over your discharge records and talked to your mom. But nice try.โ
โI really have no idea,โ he said. I wanted to believe him. I really did.
โMaybe it was the morphine fairy?โ I questioned sarcastically.
โI already feel like a piece of s**t. Thereโs no need to be an as***le, Amy.โ
The intake person asked if heโd eaten a poppy seed or an everything bagel, and I exploded, half laughing and half screaming, โHow stupid is she?!!!โ
๐๐ถ๐ ๐๐๐ฏ๐๐๐ฎ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ ๐๐๐ฒ ๐๐ฎ๐ ๐ฎ๐ณ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐ต๐ผ๐ ๐ต๐ฒ ๐ณ๐๐ป๐ฐ๐๐ถ๐ผ๐ป๐ฒ๐ฑ
He was different. Alternately penitent and defensive. His memory was totally blown.
โWhat time is it?โ heโd ask.
โ2:15โ
Three minutes later, heโd ask again, โWhat time is it?โ
The same thing happened with days of the week. Heโd pass our usual exits on the freewayโhe needed me to give him directions now.
He had brain damage. How severe, only time and future tests would tell.
๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ถ๐๐ต ๐๐๐๐ฝ๐ถ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ผ๐ป ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ด๐ฒ๐ฟ
Every time he would walk back in the door to my place, I was suspicious. Iโd look at his pupils. โWhy is he falling asleep? Why is he taking so long in the bathroom?โ One time, Iโm ashamed to admit I looked through his pockets and phone. I even drug tested him.
โAre you high?โI asked one night
โNo. I fu**ed my brain up, so it would be pretty stupid to do more drugs.โ
It would be great if addiction were rational, but itโs not. I knew this from experience. I had shot co***ne and given myself more seizures after Iโd already been diagnosed with epilepsy thanks to my m**h addiction. I know the game.
โWho do you think youโre talking to?!โ Iโd scream. โI was a drug addict. My ex-husband owned rehabs. I wrote an addiction memoir. I was an addiction journalist. How fu***ng dumb do you think I am?โ
And then Iโd collapse in a ball, hysterically crying on the floor.
๐ง๐ฟ๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐๐ผ ๐บ๐ผ๐๐ฒ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ๐๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฑ ๐ถ๐ ๐ต๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ป ๐ถ๐ ๐๐ผ๐๐ป๐ฑ๐
How would we ever rebuild trust? How could we move forward from here? How could I ever believe anything he said?
All my friends and mentors told me to just cut and run. That he was a lifer. The prognosis was not good.
But I just couldnโt. Iโd seen some stupid Instagram post that said, โLove is when somebody sees all the parts of you, even your darkest shadows, and stays. They donโt abandon you. They donโt run away.โ Iโd been given so much grace by my parents, put into rehab so many times. Their belief that one day Iโd get it had never wavered. Maybe it was my turn to be the rock, my time to be the forgiver.
โIโm sorry. I told you, Iโm really sorry. Things built up, and everyone was using in the sober living, and I felt so much pressure to catch up with my life, and โฆโ
โYou get to be sorry longer,โ I heard myself say. โDo you have any idea what you put me and your parents through?โ
I was so incredibly hurt and scared that everything I said came out as fury. Itโs kind of my M.O. Iโm not proud of it. Also, I had never been in this position. I had no idea what I was doing. What was empathy? What was a consequence?
๐ ๐๐ฟ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ ๐ด๐ถ๐๐ฒ ๐ต๐ถ๐บ ๐ฟ๐ผ๐ผ๐บ ๐๐ผ ๐ณ๐ถ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ต๐ถ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐
Eventually, I sent him to stay with his parents till he tested clean. I was having seizure activity from being so upset all the time, and I felt really confused. I was so fu***ng angry and hurt โฆ as if he done this to me. At me.
Addiction is not personal. I know that. I felt like we needed some space and time to reflect.
Once he got into treatment, he became the person Iโd always wanted. โI love you and I miss you.โ He became very clingy, but that worried me. Shouldnโt he be anchoring himself in himself and not in me? In the first week, he also pleaded to come live with me, but I refused and heโs adjusted.
โYou did the crime, you do the time, my dude,โ Iโd say jokingly.
I keep waiting for him to have some big moment of clarity that makes me feel safe that he wonโt ever use again. But I know thatโs not the way it works. The truth is there is no safety, no bullet-proof assurance. There never was and never will be, and if I choose to be with him moving forward, I will have to live with that. Iโm still not sure if I can.
๐ง๐ต๐ถ๐ ๐ฒ๐
๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ ๐บ๐ฎ๐ธ๐ฒ๐ ๐บ๐ฒ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ณ๐น๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ ๐ผ๐ป ๐บ๐ ๐ผ๐๐ป ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐๐
I went to a few support groups, but I would just cry in them. Very few people talked about friends, partners, or family members currently in active addiction. I kept hearing about โdetaching.โ But because of my own wounds, I didnโt understand the difference between detaching and abandonment, and nobody had a terrific explanation. The meetings make me anxious, and I find some of the people to be quite righteous (โOkay, Hector Projectorโ), but I still continue to go. I also know some women who have been through this, and I talk to them. But the truth is, I have to have my own journey and my own experience.
I remember when I was using, and I called my dad for money. When he refused, I tried to manipulate him. He said, โAmes, you used to be able to ruin my life. Now you canโt ruin my lunch.โ And he hung up on me. Thatโs when I knew the jig was up.
What Iโm trying to do is focus on myself and my life and stay out of his recovery. There is nothing I can say or do that will make him โget it.โ Iโm not that powerful.
When he complained that he was bored on the weekend, I exploded. A friend said, โAll he said was that he was bored. It is boring. Thereโs a lot of sitting around and downtime. You did much worse in rehab.โ
Itโs true. I self-harmed. I drank and got kicked out of two sober livings. I slept with other clients. I flirted with the chef. I was a fu***ng nightmare. But my personal history doesnโt make it easier for me to accept this.
โIf you leave or get loaded or sleep with someone there, your stuff will be in a bonfire in the middle of the road. Do you hear me?โ I said one day.
Yes, we all know threats are so effective in substance use recovery! Ha!
I felt and continue to feel so helpless. And I must sit with that feeling. I have no control. The only control I have is over how much I let it affect me. Some days I do well at that and other days โฆ not so much. Maybe thatโs what they mean by detachment. It would be so much easier to just burn the whole thing to the ground and walk away.
But thatโs what I always do.
๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐ณ๐๐๐๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ ๐๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐๐ฎ๐ถ๐ป
Hereโs the truth: neither I, my friends, nor the people in the support groups know what will happen. Sure, the odds are stacked against him. Against us. But that was my story, too. So weโll see.
I will not save him from his consequences. I will not let him take me down. I will maintain my boundaries. Iโll stop bringing up the past. But walking away? Love makes that really difficult.
People accused my parents of being enabling, but, wow, do I understand that now. Maybe they prolonged my recovery process. Maybe they kept me alive. We will never know. They are recently passed, and now I cry not just over the loss, but also over what my addiction must have done to them. In the end, none of us loves uncertainty. But such is life, with an addict or not.
~ Amy Dresner
https://www.facebook.com/amy.dresner
Amy Dresner is a journalist, recovering addict and alcoholic, and the author of My Fair Ju**ie: A Memoir of Getting Dirty and Staying Clean.
๐๐ถ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ผ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฟ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ช๐ผ๐ฟ๐ธ๐ถ๐ ๐๐ฒ๐ฎ๐น๐๐ต ๐๐ฝ๐ฝ
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