School of Hard Knocks

"We're nothing but goddamn idiots" he said, -- -- "all of us, no exceptions! On rare occasions a small touch of wisdom kicks in, and then we’re capable of great things. I mean, capable of. But will we actually ever DO great things? - Not very often!"

The young man kept on talking and elaborating about his grand philosophies while I smiled politely, knowing for a fact, that I was definitely NOT an idiot.

But doing great things? Yep, that certainly applied to me!

I was a woman with a stable homelife and a happy professional life. So what was I doing, sitting under a bridge in Vancouver listening to the ramblings of a drunk? I had fallen in love with "the man of my dreams," and he had dragged me to this spot to meet his friend and to have a drink together. Granted, my lover had an alcohol- and drug problem, but he had promised to straighten his life out if I only left my husband and took him in. This was no problem for me, since the guy so obviously needed my help, and since I also knew for sure that love conquers all! I was looking forward to some major excitement in my life with a very sweet man. Thus I was in the process of leaving the man I loved, -- and who loved me, - to throw my lot in with an alcoholic and help him get sober.

That's how I came to sit on warm pipes under a bridge with the two of them and a bottle of Whisky, or two . My friend had passed out all along, but I was willing to let him enjoy one more binge before he'd sober up for good. -- -- I soon left my husband who was tremendously hurt by this. And then I moved away from Vancouver to my mountain retreat near Grand Forks to make sure temptations of the big city wouldn't interfere with my great plans.

Did I have a surprise coming! Living with an alcoholic turned out to be a roller coaster to hell and back! The reasons given for NOT straightening out were usually "if you only would……. , or if you wouldn't …….". It was always my fault if he had to hitchhike to town to get drunk, and that even though I was bending over backward trying to keep him happy, -- and sober. I learned what it's like to get emotionally and physically abused. I also found out that it's almost impossible to part with a person like that! I had never understood, why battered women didn't simply leave their tormentor. Now it became clear why they couldn't : You become a slave, and they won't let you go -- -- ever. And they'll find you if you do get away. But if you should find the strength and resolve to throw them out, they can cry so pitifully that it breaks your heart!

Actually I did harden myself several times and had him pack his bag and go. But then 2-3 days later he'd be back, - usually some time after midnight and very drunk. The rest of the night would then be one of horror until I had to go to work.

But I also learned how much anguish, despair and bewilderment the alcoholic himself goes through! My friend tried AA time and time again without being able to stick with it. And I became a steady member at Alanon. This is the place for friends and relatives of alcoholics. Now that was a lifesaver for me!! Because living with an alcoholic-- -- there comes a time where you don't know any more what is real. I was crumbling dangerously!

Here I met others , most of them women, who had heard all the same lines, excuses and accusations too. I learned that his drinking was NOT my fault, and that I could NOT make him stop drinking. In fact, that I could change no person other than myself. This took a huge load off my shoulders, and with help of the famous Serenity Prayer I became able to weather a whole lot more and still retain a measure of self-esteem.

The drinking however got worse and I had to call the police more often. It didn't do much good though. No matter how crazy he acted before I phoned for help, -- as soon as the police arrived he'd act totally normal, and they then thought I was the crazy one.

The last time however they did believe me: It was an ordinary day. I came home from work, tired and hungry only to get the usual treatment of verbal abuse that went on and on and on. I tried to detach as best I could and finally went to bed upstairs. He kept puttering and muttering downstairs. The smell of kerosene woke me up. Without electricity at the time only kerosene lamps lit the house at night. I dashed down to find him pouring this highly combustible fluid all over my carpets!!

As fast as I could I gathered up all the matches I could find, blew out the lights and pulled on socks and in my nighty ran down the mountain to the nearest neighbor. She phoned the police, and 15 endless minutes later 2 Mounties hiked with me back up the mountain. Still wearing nothing but socks and a nighty I was expecting to see my house in flames. But to my immense relief the house was still standing when we came around the switchback. And when we arrived inside,-- my dear suffering alcoholic stood in the middle of a lake of kerosene, -- -- smoking a cigarette! He mumbled something about being a human torch, and indeed , his clothes were also drenched with that stuff! A two gallon container was empty.

The policemen swiftly had the cigarette extinguished and him hustled out of the house. And then they marched him in handcuffs down the mountain and out of my life. -- --

The smell in my house was horrendous for the next few weeks, but I didn't mind that one bit. This was the price I gladly paid for my freedom after a 5 year nightmare. It was finally over.

Sometimes I think back to that night under the bridge. Was I a "goddamn idiot?" -- -- No kidding ! -- -- I can't speak for anyone else, but that shoe certainly fits me!!

And yet, -- I wouldn't want to have missed this very harsh learning experience for anything!! (Not that I ever want to go through this again!) It made me a lot more humble and taught me to be less judgmental and more tolerant. Of course I learned to really, really appreciate my freedom! I also became more forgiving and more compassionate. And most of all, -- I found out that love doesn't die, -- even if you never ever want to be with this person again. You still care.

I remember how he often whined that he was possessed! At the time I mistook it just for another one of his excuses. But now I know that indeed he was possessed by a disembodied drug- and alcohol addict who didn't let him quit Had I known then what I know now, I could have easily depossessed him. This would have vastly improved his chances with AA, but it's too late now. Last I heard he spent some time in an institution somewhere at the coast, -- unable even to recognize his own brother. He died there 8 years ago.

By Gisela Ko