I don’t know how January was for you, but mine was FILLED with therapy sessions to assist me in getting through this breakdown successfully. Today, I had to take a drive. A drive to familiar places to think about matters of the past that keep peek a booing into my present.

I don’t know where to start to be honest. I feel that the beginning is saved best for the end this time. So, I’ll save it.

May 14, 1999

It was our 4th wedding anniversary and my husband was moving out into a new apartment. I don’t recall if the intention was forever or for a bit. I was so mad that it probably was forever in the beginning. There was no cheating. No drugs. No drinking. Just a lot of fighting and family involvement on both sides. We both agreed that it was awful for the children. A week later, my brother died of a drug overdose. He came with us to Gaspe, but stayed at his family’s home. We had some rough roads. I’m pretty sure he was dating and I was too. When we met in the middle, the attraction was still there. Not often, but it happened. We spent New Year’s Eve together in Toronto. At that time, I felt it was hopeless. Without the curse of any betrayal or addiction (that I know of), we managed to do the work we both needed to do apart and get back together. We were together for 20 more years.

February 17, 2019

This was by far a more horrific parting of ways. There was drug addiction and sex addiction. The mental health issues and pain that make an appearance when the surmountable betrayal showed its ugly face. There was ultimatums on both sides. He wanted me to stay, but he wouldn’t go to rehab and move out of Ottawa. I wanted him to follow me, get rehab, and allow me the opportunity to be close to family for support. It was a push and pull for months. Until, he started pulling away and making excuses to avoid me. There are so many times I could have went back and would have been welcomed with open arms. My heart and head was telling me that nothing would change. My gut told me it would only be worse. I refused to have any intimate relations with him when we met. I stood my ground in spite of my broken heart and need for his touch, his hug, and his familiarity. I literally felt like I was dying. Time passed, I knew that I would always love him, but I could never return to him. Addictions are a beast and without very intense therapy, I don’t think I could have ever trusted again. All I could do was pray for him, while he tore me to the ground verbally to our friends and family. We both agreed that there was no coming back from this. He died. I left it up to him to ask to see me. He didn’t ask and I never went.

December 18, 2023

Same situation, different person. No sex or drug addiction. It was alcohol. His family disliked me for arriving into his life. I think it was a lot of enabling. A huge argument happened within my family while drinking the day before my parent’s burial. I decided to quit. I asked my partner to quit. As well, I asked him not to communicate with my sister-in-law. I decided I didn’t want anymore of that toxicity in my life. I backed down and said “Ok, cut down.” I was busy painting and super frustrated that no one was there to help me prepare my parent’s home. I pushed away this time around. He called it an ultimatum. I did love him so very much, but I needed safety in knowing that he’d never get that drunk again to disrespect me behind my back. Things lingered, random texts were sent, and then he found someone else. He said “there is no coming back from this…maybe if you backed the truck up sooner.”


As a young girl, my brother was a drug addict. My parent’s were alcoholics who blamed one another for my brother’s addiction. From age 5 to way into my teenage years when conflict would arise I would be the one to step in the middle to stop it. I’d scream, I’d pull hair, or get physical knowing that no one would hurt me if I stopped it. The sad part is I couldn’t make ultimatums on what I needed in my life as a child. I was governed by alcohol and drugs. I would tell the school what was happening at home, but if any sign of CAS was called, I’d make a whole new story so I didn’t lose my family. My young life was an absolutely shit show. It was sheer resilience that got me to adulthood sane.

Thoughts for my Therapist

I look at all this and realize a lot about myself. I’m tough, but I’m also soft. I don’t understand how to love someone without an addiction or even with an addiction. I also acknowledge that a healthy relationship can be mended and fought for, but a relationship with addiction can’t. You can back the truck up at any time because it’s an honest true love. I’m sure that if there was some semblance of meeting in the middle, maybe it could. There are a ton of people going to Al-Anon and deal with their addict on a daily basis.

But one thing I do know. The stronger someone loves, the harder it is to let go of anyone with an addiction. It’s because we see that wonderful side to them. The glimpse of what could be. Ultimately, no ultimatum or boundary is going to change their ways. They have to do it on their own. The saddest part is that you have to take that love you have for them, put it on a shelf and just pray that one day they’ll help themselves.

I’ve had two people that I loved die of addiction or causes due to addiction. I still pray for the last love in my life, because I sure do love him too. He wrote to me the other night and said, I don’t know if I’m happy or settled, I told you that I need companionship. This made my heart break, knowing the addiction found exactly what he needed, and not the true love he could have. He had it staring him in the face not once, but twice. Love is a mother fucker to deal with when you have an addiction.

However, dealing with my own devil inside, I get it. I understand it more as I understand me more.

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