I begin to realize my vodka was quickly disappearing. I surely couldn’t let that happen! It wasn’t long before him and I both started hiding the vodka. We started hiding it in empty vases, behind couches, in cupboards, under the bed, in the closet, in the bathroom, and in containers labeled, “rubbing alcohol”. Unfortunately he would get so drunk he couldn’t muster up the energy to get off the living room floor. My son at the time would start to ask questions as to why this guy I had married was tossing and turning and moaning on the floor. I started trying to limit his intake by making him wait till noon (this is where the hiding came into play). Because of this action, he would start to sweat profusely and his body would begin to tremble. He would beg and plead for me to go get the alcohol so withdrawals would cease. I even stopped mixing my drinks and drink the vodka as he did, shots and a chaser to limit his intake.

Aggressive Behavior/Self-mutilation

One night, I came home to him with a knife imbedded in his hand with massive amounts of blood scattered all over the kitchen floor.  Luckily the knife did not protrude all the way through his hand, but the kitchen look like a crime scene massacre.  Incidentally, my son came home with a friend and witnessed the remnets of scattered blood. I was dumbstruck as they walked through the kitchen to my sons bedroom.

It always seemed my ex had some dysfunctional memory to work through when he was drinking. One night in a state of psychotic behavior he broke a purple glass bowl claiming his uncle gave it to him. He then took the pieces of glass to his neck cutting through layers of skin. He was screaming to me how his uncle drank one night killing his two nieces in a motor vehicle accident. Wow! I was panicking at this moment and called 911.

We started fighting more and he became abusive towards me by pushing me, pulling my hair and ripping my clothes in attempts to subdue me. One night my son came home to him hovering over me. I remember my son climbing on top of this man larger in size than himself and throwing punches to his back screaming, “Get off my mom!” Sadley, this toxic relationship didn’t end here.

If you are experiencing abuse reach out. tel:1.800.799.7233 Domestic Abuse hotline: hours are 24/7 or find your nearest Doves program 308-436-HELP or 866-95-DOVES. Regrettably, I never reached out because the abuse was always entangled by alcohol. Please know this doesn’t matter. Abuse is abuse!

Four years of my life down the drain! It must be said that it wasn’t all his fault since I was the enabler and a participant.

When we first met I had been divorced for a whole year. Surely that was enough time for another long term relationship… what the heck was I thinking? The first marriage was extremely abusive and maybe I thought I didn’t deserve better. So, he swooped in and was gentle, kind and sympathetic to my past. He didn’t judge that every time he came over I had my favorite mixed drink in hand. He had his own home and spoke highly of his three children desperately seeking to be apart of their lives. This was love, right?

Fast Foward

I was unaware he was behind on rent, electricity turned off and soon after lost his job. I didn’t know he had been addicted to pain medication. Even with these things weighing on my mind, we got married in the court house with two of my immediate family members as witnesses. I even bought our wedding rings. I owned my home at the time so naturally he moved in with me. He did have his own car which the guy in the first marriage only owned a backpack. This was a step up! A year later his car broke down. He started taking shots of the vodka, I always had on hand, with a chaser because he could no longer afford his pain meds. It started out fun, the both of us laughing and getting drunk together. I would go to work still half drunk from the night before and he would remain at the house looking for employment. Unannounced to me, he was still indulging in the alcohol. At first, it didn’t seem to matter, I would get off work and mix my cocktail and we would start again as though we had never stopped.