Tied to the Whipping Post

Hello again.  It’s me, (isn’t that a Neil Diamond song?)  I have an update on the impossible implications of Narcissistic Abuse Syndrome and how the symptoms can affect your sobriety.   The odds are, that if your narcissist is a sibling, he or she will turn your family against you, with nary a thought at the crippling pain it will unleash.  Yesterday, I received an email from John, my flying monkey of a brother, and here is one sentence I will share:

“Sarah and I love you very, very much.  You seem to go from zero to one hundred, that must be very hard to live with.”

My brother had been staying at the narc’s house, in town for a concert I did not attend.  There was much more, but I came away with the feelings of guilt, shame and unknowingness.  To put this in a better light:  I have been sober for ten years.  I have been through tremendously stress ridden times-with my marriage, my disease, my relationships.  Yesterday was a different story:

While sitting at my pc, in an amazing mood considering, our electricity went off.  This happened immediately after I read John’s sheepmail.  I took my pup outside to the shade trees, no relief.  My husband called and said he was sending an electrician, as we live in an old farm house and the breakers were ancient.  Hot, dirty from gardening, my mood slowly sinking from the family drama….I had a brilliant idea.  (insert sarcastic emoticon)  “I will go get a bottle of vodka, a small one, and mix it with cranberry juice.  I need and deserve a drink.”  I proceeded to put the pooch in the jeep, turned up the air, and drove to the liquor store.  No voices telling me to STOP, turn around, throw your change out the window (I have no money of my own, and I couldn’t very well use the credit card as my husband would see it-so it was with quarters and nickels, dimes that I paid the nice cashier in the air conditioned store.  As I walked in, I immediately sensed the employees knew I was an alcoholic; looking at me through beady eyes, suspicion on their collective faces.

By the time we returned, the air was back on, but that didn’t stop me from pouring a drink, and the ensuing drama that unfolded.  Standing up to get more ice, I was shocked at how hard the alcohol had hit me.  I was DRUNK.  I called my best friend and next store neighbor in a panic.  “Hang in there, give me a minute.”

She soothed my shattered heart, spoke the words of an AA sponsor, and then she blew me out of my chair:

“You must tell Dwain.”

Sweet Lord almighty, what was she saying?  He would be crushed.  He would never forgive me.  He would  kill my siblings….but you know what?  My family may have driven me bat shit crazy, but they were not responsible for me taking that drink.

As my husband pulled into the driveway, Donna told me to go inside and not come out until she left.  I waited, in my bedroom, pacing and stumbling, fearing the absolute worst.

“Honey, come down here.”  Did I hear him correctly?  I stumbled down the stairs, my head in my hands, tail between my legs.

“I love you more than anything in this world, and we are going to get through this together.”  He held we whilst I wept, and told me it was okay, just a slip……and as I drifted off to la la land, in his lap, I thought to myself:  wherever is your heart, I’ll call home.

 

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