Members' Stories: Nice Things

Nice Things

I am an addict. An alcoholic specifically. Now I know there is great debate and controversy in the recovery community about whether or not we should even differentiate between alcoholics and addicts. I believe that an addict is an addict is an addict, no matter what substance or behavior has its hooks in someone, self-identifying as an alcoholic is simply a habit.

I am also in love with and planning on spending my life with an addict. Now, it is generally considered a bad idea to date in early recovery (and if you are a chronic relapser, like me, you are always in early recovery). It is considered an especially bad idea to date another addict, and a really especially bad idea to date another addict who is also in early recovery (who in my case is also a chronic relapser). But, the heart wants what the heart wants (that’s a joke, since a similar sentiment has landed me in rehab several times). In spite of the danger however, we have found a genuine and profound love for each other. It was in the course of this relationship, and the adventures that come with it, that I had an experience that has stuck with me, not just in the back of my mind, but that I often recall when I find myself drifting off track.

We were at the mall one day just kicking around. When you’re an addict trying not to act like an addict, things can get pretty boring so you make your own adventures. Buying groceries can be particularly thrilling if done correctly. However, this time we were at the mall. I was braving the horrors of Forever 21 in the name true love (or something). She was gleefully digging through the sweaters while I wondered why the busts and mannequins had such clearly defined nipples. Eventually (I mean that, eventually), she had seen everything she wanted to see, and it was my turn! Off to the JC Penny Housewares section we went. I love to cook, so housewares might as well be my Forever 21. As I geeked over non-stick skillets and cast iron dutch ovens, she tried valiantly to match my enthusiasm. I finally got bored with kitchenware I couldn’t afford, so we moved on to the department at large. Gadgets, appliances, decor, beds, etc. It was while we were playfully arguing about sheets and pillow cases that it happened. She went very quiet, and when I turned to look at her, she was standing there, tears welling in her eyes and makeup starting to run. She looked at me and said “We’re never going to be able to have these nice things”.

Never have I so profoundly, bitterly, felt the cost of addiction or the fear and hopelessness that accompanies it. That simple sentence uttered through tears, where seconds before there had been laughter, touched me in a way that even losing friends to violence and overdoses hadn’t. That single sentence encompassed all the fear, shame, regret and hopelessness I had ever felt in my own addiction and starkly illustrated how hard it can be to put on a brave face and just keep going. How fragile that mask truly is. How constant the worry that it is too late for us, our ships have sailed, and we are lost. How ever-present the idea that we are both beyond, and unworthy of saving. “We’ll never be able to have these nice things” is all she said, but it was all the things she didn’t have to say that broke my heart. I did my best to cheer her up, and we were all smiles again by the time we got back to the car, but I still marvel at what it took to carry on from that moment.

Mind you, we’re young, each having given a relatively short 10-12 years or so to our addictions and I go to great lengths sometimes to not think about what it must be like for people who have lost so much more time to this disease. Though painful, this experience did much to deepen my empathy, not just for addicts, but for everyone, from the happiest to the most wretched. And though some days I feel like giving up, I remind myself that some things are better to begin than to refuse, even if the end seems dark. Regardless of whether the addiction wins, or I do, it will bring me peace to know that what I wanted to build and share with another soul was more important than that next drink, even if only for one day.