Cowsbell Recovery Alcohol -4

“Cowsbell” has allowed us to peak into his kitchen window the last three posts, revealing his seven years of recovery. His addictions listed thus far are co-dependency and workahol. Today he reveals alcohol.

Marriage. The answer to all my problems… after all, marriage is about someone loving me, caring for me, being there for me, about me being happy. She was dedicated to pleasing me, satisfying me, being my friend, my lover, my companion. This would be wonderful.

And it was except I didn’t know what to do with love. I was feeling all sorts of emotions but they were foreign to me; I had never been close to anyone and had only dated others for a couple years. and never for long. I was unprepared and there was no guide to show the way—there had never been anyone who had talked to me about living life and I didn’t do well figuring it out with the models I had seen.

Providing, that was what I knew, being hardworking, diligent, someone to be proud of, so I set off to be the best provider she could ever have wanted. Even now as I write the words, I see the problem of whose example I followed. This was the way of my Father and step-father but I only see it from the future now and not in the present past. I set about to create perfection, to be perfect myself and having mastered that to make her perfect. I knew that if we did everything right, our lives would be perfect. I had seen the mistakes of others and would not allow that to happen to us.

I was tough on myself, pressing to perfection, for excellence, being better than any others so that no one could deny me my rightful due, that they would have to recognize and accept my success. And part of my success depended upon my wife being perfect because that would reflect well upon me. She already was good but I would encourage her to be even better. There were many tasks that I had thought more about than her and I readily shared my insights on the best way to do almost anything but she resisted and began to fall short of my quest for perfection.

I poured myself into my profession and was recognized as a comer but the failure of those nearest to me to support me made this accomplishment hollow. I didn’t feel as good as I would have if they had measured up to my expectations. This spousal betrayal forced me to withdraw back into myself lest I give too much of myself away to someone. I became aware of others who probably would want to be perfect for me but there was no way I would admit failure in my personal life by marriage. I continued on. I put more time into work and was progressing in business but found that I wasn’t satisfied.

I began to spend more time with my Father’s old friend who consoled me of my torment for not being what I felt I should be. I had occasionally drank a few beers or whiskey before I married but now it became a regular activity. Every night would be one or two beers which took off the edge of the day and helped me feel a little less. Even better was the binges. Hunting season, boys’ nights out, ball games, BBQ’s all were events where I could drink enough to feel less. I seldom felt bad even though I consumed increasingly larger quantities of whatever alcohol was available. I felt fine. It never effected my work and no one was more accepting than the group at the bar or hunting camp. This was living.

I began to look forward to special occasions for the escape from what had become mundane and common. I didn’t care that much about my wife’s failures when I was loose. Life was good again. I had real friends, real companions who wanted to spend time with me drinking. We could drink and talk and drink some more and never had any personal problems to face. Life was easy.

Escape from the common, from problems, from disappointing relationships all became easier not to feel or deal with as long as I had my Father’s old friend. I began to understand that Father hadn’t been so bad after all—he was simply living life on his terms, mellow, at peace, accepted.

Then she left me. I had been out for a couple weeks with the guys, hunting, drinking, being me and she decided to leave me. I didn’t want it—as much as I felt she had let me down by not letting me perfect her, I was satisfied with my created life and didn’t want her to leave me alone. It wasn’t fair—I had just mastered my life—but she left anyway. Abandoned me, rejected me, disrespected me. Was gone and I was alone. IT WASN’T FAIR!
More in tomorrow’s post.