His Addiction, My Rage

He was my world. He was my calm. I was his... or so I thought I was. As we built memories and a life together, I began to notice. The trauma, our trauma, his and mine. More and more he would fall, and he would distance himself from me. I kept pushing and pushing because I refused to be abandoned again, and I HAD to have his love, his approval. How unhealthy codependency can be. He would criticize me, I would sit in silence and take in his words that minute by minute were piercing my heart. I was not enough, I would never be enough as I'd let myself go, I wasn't who he had fallen in love with if we could even call it that.

The phone, my nemesis, my source of pain, my competitor and the one thing I never thought I would have to concern myself with. His life was his and mine was his too, or so he made me believe. I would sob, and I grew obsessed. I had to know. I had to see. I knew I was right, and there was nothing I could do to stop it because he makes his own decisions, and he just could not let go. It was his safe place, it was his euphoria and it was his side piece as it had protected him since he was ten from the pain, the lack of connection. He would never let go, I had to help him and I had to be enough for him.

Years of building, I couldn't help but believe it was wasted. I couldn't believe he would do that to me, it had to be something I did. The resentment grew and I began to break away from caring for his feelings. The hub destroys, the hub dominates, the hub leaves him wanting more, to try new things I'm not ready for and I don't know I ever could be. It leads to dating site after dating site, hook up sites, films, set ups. I tried to be enough, I wanted to explore, I wanted to see how we could connect but I was just a body, a tool to feed his fantasies. He'd look right through me, and I felt myself slipping away. I'd try new clothing, I'd try new ways to entice him, to initiate, he'd cover me up, he'd look the other way.

Rejection. Embarrassment. Resentment... and then Rage. I was filled with fury, and anger but I couldn't let go. The toxic cycle remained, divorce in our midst. I wanted it. He wanted it. I couldn't end the fight, and he wouldn't. I suffered in silence, and there was no telling him. It would come out in other ways, to get him to leave me alone. He wasn't ready, he didn't want to be fixed, realization I couldn't fix him. It was not on me, his addiction was NOT ON ME. The amount of times I had to repeat that in therapy to understand love isn't conditional, it's not normal for one to be wrapped up in the hub and not be able to leave the house, or have a desire to go anywhere. To be hiding away on a screen for hours, for days, for months.

My rage. It grew. I could not believe who I had become. My rage is my poison, my toxic trait, my downfall. I should have been supporting him, I should have handled it better but what came out of my mouth was completely different. Any chance I would have, I would tear him down, cut him deep and try to show him how deep my hurt was. I hated him, I hated me, I hated us. The hurt, the tainting of us and he was the one I thought I could count on, not rely but count on. I was angry but no one talks about that being allowed, it isn't normalized for us to be angry with them when it comes to the hub. Boundaries are broken, and you can't help but sit back and watch it crumble as there is a certain beauty to the crashing of an empire. His empire, I helped him build but I still was hidden behind the stones of the pedestal I had him on.

It was our fault, we started too soon, too fast, too young. I wanted to smash everything in sight, I wanted to scream and I wanted to fight. I loved him with the purest of intentions but when he broke me, I couldn't see him the same. We sit in silence, take the criticisms of our other halves, we dehumanize the other person. Then when we react, it can be belittled, dismissed and used as a tool to manipulate. It can be so deep rooted, and just when you believe nothing more could cut through and sever the bond, it hits you like lightning. My skin would crawl at the thought of his manipulation, his deceit, his conversations with them, the things they shared. I would say yes, when I wanted to say no. I wanted to cut him off but I couldn't, I felt it would only worsen and he would leave. Even some days I cared more that it would continue instead.

My rage was contained but it would be boiling inside, trying to reach the surface to take me down. I couldn't stand the way he would touch me, I couldn't stand the way he would ignore me, I couldn't stand the way he would be on it while I was asleep beside him. I loved him and he loved me but it was not an excuse to treat each other poorly. It fueled my fire, my rage, my enemy that it was becoming to be my ally. I couldn't live like this anymore, I made a last attempt and it went as planned for a short while, it improved and our bond felt real again. I felt our connection growing, I felt our toxic cycle breaking and a healthy bond blooming. But my rage didn't disappear. It decided to stay, even if his addiction had gone, had lost it's power over him, over me, my rage remained.

That is what addiction can do to the other person, the trauma that surfaces, it sounds selfish when we put it like that but both sides can be validated. We learn it. You can be angry with someone, set boundaries with someone and still love them. You can choose to stay, you can choose to leave. Sometimes it is worth fighting for, and sometimes it isn't. An addiction is a sickness and rage can be too but it isn't up to us for them, it's up to them and our own is up to us.