Just reposting an older blog from my deleted profile - I wrote this in July of 2007.
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I read today Lindsay Lohan was arrested again. I now officially, for the record, feel sorry for her. Addiction is a terrible thing. I should know. I lived with it for 10 years.
The hardest thing I’ve had to deal with in my life is whether I continued in a relationship with an addict. I chose to stay. I almost left but backed out at the last moment. I knew the heartache that would follow. I knew there’d be many times I’d question why I chose to stay. I knew people would think I’m a fool. I knew.
Right now, I’m watching my addict waste away due to cirrhosis of the liver complicated by crohns disease. He is 6 feet tall and now weighs 85 pounds.
We had many fights. The hardest thing about fighting with someone under the influence is this: you’ll remember every word. They won’t. They won’t remember the argument while everything said is ringing in your ears. I’ve been chased down by him holding a knife. I hid in the bedroom that night until he passed out. Those memories I will always have. He doesn’t remember and I don’t remind him. I made my choice.
I’m a stronger person now. I know I’m loyal. I like that about myself. I’ve been to the hospital and emergency room and doctors office with him so many times I could just vomit when I see M.D. anywhere. (And sadly for me, those are my initials… ) I can hook up TPN, handle all the household issues, comfort him when he’s scared about dying, work all day, push him around in a wheelchair while pretending he’s in a racecar to make him laugh and still look at him and remember what it was that made me stay. I don’t know how long he is for this world. Looking at him now, I don’t think it’s long. All I know is I’m glad we met. I’m a better person with him.
Watching someone die is horrific, especially if death comes slowly in bits and pieces. I hear him moan in pain. I watch him cry. Helplessness is the worst feeling in the world. There’s nothing I can do. I can’t make it go away. I can only watch. I wake up in the middle of the night and check to see if he’s still breathing, check to see if he’s still alive. I don’t know what I’ll do when it’s over. I know I’ll be relieved for him, his suffering is done. Mine will continue.
I want this to be as easy for him as I can make it. I smile and pretend everything’s alright. I don’t let him know how emaciated he looks. I don’t share the heartache I have when I look at him. I smile. That smile eats at me. I want his days to be as pleasant as I can make them. If these are his last, I want him to be as carefree as possible. Most of the time I feel as if I’m going to break apart in a thousand pieces. I want to hide. I want it to be over. Then I hear him laugh at something and I pick myself up. I put one foot in front of the other. And smile. It’s all for him. My time is later. It’s his time now.
I’ve read where people don’t understand why Lindsay Lohan didn’t quit drinking and using drugs having gone to rehab twice this year. The answer is simple. Lindsay didn’t want to quit. You can’t force someone to drop an addiction. It doesn’t work that way. That person is under the grips of something that takes their sanity, their sense away. All the threats, promises, taunts and bullying you can dish out won’t matter. All you can do is to decide this: Do you love them enough to stand by them and watch them hurt themselves, hurt you, waste their potential, waste away, and still be there to pick up the pieces? I know I can. I’ve learned love is not always wonderful with flowers and candy and jewelry and kisses. Love is hard. Love can be dark. Love is seeing them break apart while you stand by waiting for the crash to happen. And knowing the whole time it will hurt you and cost you everything to watch and there’s nothing you can do but wait for the moment you’re needed. I did. I love him. I always will.
I hope Lindsay has someone in her life like that. I hope everyone does.
