I will always remember January 10, 2014 as the day my world turned upside down; the day I finally realized that my husband was an addict.
I had been married for almost 11 months, but my husband and I had been dating/living together for 3 1/2 years before we got married. He was 10 years older than me, born in South America, and my best friend in the whole world.
I woke up on the morning of January 10th, and reached for my morning dose of pain medication (I was on some really strong stuff at the time, because my health was in an awful place) but as I shook out my pills I realized that the bottle seemed a little too empty. So I sat down and did the math…”4 pills a day x 10 days since I refilled my script, that’s 40 pills, but I’ve been taking less than 4 pills some days, so add a few back. I got 120 pills 10 days ago – 40 I’ve taken…that’s +/- 80 pills I’m missing…WHAT?!?!” Yeah.
Needless to say after much anxiety and arguing, and quite a few lies, my husband finally fessed up to taking them. His reasoning? I didn’t really need them anyway.
Throughout our relationship my husband and I went through a few periods where we would have issues, usually over the amount of alcohol he was consuming or the fact that marijuana had mysteriously appeared in my house and was being smoked behind my back. I figured all couples have their issues, it happens, it’s part of a relationship you just learn how to work through it…until these periods became more and more frequent. After our marriage things went downhill rapidly.
He was getting high every day, all day, and drunk most nights. He no longer wanted to leave the house other than to obtain more beer/weed. I loved him, and this was a marriage after all, so I tried to help him. I talked, mostly AT him, I explained my feelings and how he was hurting me. I offered steps he could take to help resolve the situation. I bought him some natural antidepressants/anti anxiety medications, because I understood the root cause of his need to use and thought maybe it would help (he refused to take them). I cooked healthy meals, kept the house stocked with nutrients and vitamins, I encouraged him to exercise. All to no avail, all he wanted to do was drink, smoke, and play video games.
So around the holidays I finally gave an ultimatum (something I despise doing, as I think it is a lose-lose situation), either he stop using and come to marriage counseling with me, or I would leave. He of course agreed, he’d stop, I was so much “more important” than the weed/beer. Until the next morning of course, when I woke up to find him high again. So what did I do? I stayed. I rolled over and played dead. I told myself “it’s a marriage, it’s what you do, you work it out“.
So day by day I became more miserable, and he continued to be high and drunk.
Until I woke up on January 10th, 2014 and realized that I was missing not only 80+ OxyContin, but 80 other pills of various painkillers I had in the house (mostly Tramadol and Percocet). He lied, and lied, until he finally confessed. Two days later I said “I want a divorce”, and on our 1st wedding anniversary, February 14th, 2014 I found somewhere else to stay.
The story is still unfolding. At the moment he claims to be sober, and has seemed to be when I have seen him, but he is living in our apartment (while I am paying the rent!) and I am staying with family so I can’t know for sure. He has refused to agree to a divorce, so I have filed for a contested divorce, and plan to take him to court, but we are still very much stuck in the middle of that process.