The hardest decision I ever made was whether to let my drug-addict husband go or try to keep the family together for my son. I was raised Catholic and no one in my family was divorced. I didn’t want to be a single mother and I didn’t want my son to grow up without his father. But my life became unmanageable.
When my husband was transferred to northwest Arizona, I thought the move would help him get away from all his drug-addict friends. Do I think they don’t have drugs in the Northwest?
My father was an alcoholic, and as I grew up I thought that if I loved him enough, he would stop drinking. I was able to get out of this madness when I moved out of the house at 18 years old. When I got married, I thought that if I loved my husband enough and was the perfect wife, he would give up drinking and drugs and become the perfect husband and father.
All the love songs said: “Love is the answer,” “All we need is love,” and “Love makes the world go round.” Why wasn’t my unconditional love enough?
After we moved, I experienced the dark days in the Pacific Northwest. They were a depressing contrast to the sunny desert. I worked as a sales representative but was alone with my son most evenings because my husband was out “entertaining” his job. His credit card bills were more than $4,000 a month. Thankfully, his company paid for most of it, but every month was a struggle to pay the bills.
Related : 7 subtle behaviors of self-centered people in relationships, according to psychology
One morning, after spending the night out, he called to tell me that he had driven upriver with some friends the night before to see the falls. And that was it for me. I have finished. I told him to get out. I couldn’t do it anymore. I will figure out a way to take care of my son somehow.
What I finally realized was that I wasn’t doing him any good and that I had created a monster. I never objected to his late nights or spending thousands of dollars on cocaine and liquor. I called his office several times while he was on hold and lied that he had the flu.
All this I did under the guise of trying to love him enough. You were the perfect credential.
Ross Rosenberg says it best in his book, The Human Magnet Syndrome, Why We Love People Who Hurt Us, that “when the codependent and the narcissist come together in their relationship, their dance unfolds flawlessly: the narcissistic partner keeps the lead and the codependent partner keeps the lead.” He follows. Their roles seem natural to them because they have been playing them all their lives. The codependent reflexively gives up his power and since the narcissist thrives on control and power, the dance is perfectly coordinated. Nobody steps on their toes.”
And so for me, the “dance” continued for years until I said: “No more.”
My husband struggled on his own for a few years and spent time in prison, but he eventually remarried, had a daughter, and started a successful software company. He has remained clean and sober.
My way of “loving” him did not help him put his life together. We had the perfect codependent relationship. My role was huge in keeping the madness going.
In my second marriage, I started the “dance” again. With the help of counseling, I learned how to step away from my part in the crazy dance of breakup. No amount of love can make someone do what you want them to do or stop them from doing what they want to do.
I finally realized this truth as well as my role in the relationship: once I started forgiving myself, I was able to love myself enough to not tolerate the abuse anymore.
In Karen Casey’s book, Let’s Go Now, Embracing the Breakup, she explains that “deciding to break up with a loved one may be the most important, but also the kindest, gift we can give ourselves. Ever.”
When we step back and view the situation dispassionately, we learn to see our role in the drama. When we take ourselves out of the “dance” we realize that this is the most loving thing we can do for them and ourselves.
