I should warn you before you continue reading: this post has no answers for how to survive life with an alcoholic partner. It does, however, give you an insight into my relationship that I did indeed survive. And this is only the beginning…
August 25th, 2011:
I receive a phone call around 3 am from above mentioned alcoholic while laying in bed with my current partner. I ignored said phone call because the status of “alcoholic” had already been reached, and I wasn’t about to deal with that. Only later was it made known that the phone call was more than a late night drunk dial. She had flipped her car into a ditch.
August 25th, 2012:
Yes, exactly one year later….
I was working the night shift at a restaurant I actually still work at (the money is just soooo good!) The crazy party girl, we will call her Micayla, had too much to drink at a local bar, and her sister decided to drop her off at the restaurant. She entered through the ToGo door as I was cleaning my tables in the bar area. She announced her presence with the all too often heard loud greetings that accompany her entrances. The usual annoyed look quickly came over all her coworkers faces. As she ordered a beer from the bartender, she sat at my table. I was then given a slew of compliments, topped off by a very slurred marriage proposal. Quickly after I nervously laughed off the question, Micayla decided she needed to go to the bathroom. I cleaned a little more, winding down from a busy shift.
Roughly 15 minutes passed with no return from the fiance. So, I went by the bathrooms. Other servers, busily rolling silverware, claimed they had been greeted boisterously by Micayla but hadn’t seen her in a few. So, I checked on her. I walked into a thankfully empty girls’ restroom. Empty besides a passed out Micayla. I could see her body, half-naked, for it seems she had only enough stamina to pull down her pants, laying in between the middle and handicapped stall. The door was locked. Panicked, I quickly ushered help from my female manager on duty. We were able to crawl under the door, unlock it, and wake Micayla from her alcohol induced slumber.
At first, there were laughs from both sides, but soon, Micayla’s laughs turned into hateful comments and more beer requests. Our General Manager (that’s the big boss) attempted to escort her out after some violent threats and derogatory remarks were made. Perhaps it was the recent proposal, or maybe because I am just so darn charming, but Micayla wouldn’t listen to or go anywhere with anyone but me. So, I got the green light to leave work early (YAY!) to take care of her (wait, no!).
I tried calling sister, mother, mom (her current care giver) but had no luck with anyone. I was told “She’s your problem.”, “I’m not dealing with her anymore.”, “Don’t bring her home!”. Being the good person that I am, I decided the only option was for her to come home with me. At the time, I wasn’t too thrilled about this, and after Micayla throwing up in my car and my bed, I really wasn’t thrilled about the decision.
A couple hours passed, and Micayla awoke from her sleep. She was clearly still intoxicated. Her eyes tell it all. She began saying things
which didn’t make sense then, and only somewhat do now, three years later. Through all of her mumble jumble, she announced she wanted help with her drinking problem. So, as I knelt before her, mimicking her previous act of expressing her love for me, I vowed to help her.
When we woke the next morning, hangover free, after all that is the true indication of an alcoholic, I asked her if she remembered asking for help the night before. She said yes. And the journey began…