From the heart……

27 02 2008

I had hoped my inaugural post on Livejournal would be a statement of intent for The Quim Collective, a manifesto blazing across the cyberverse to all that might dare to be challenged by what lies within.

Sadly reality has taken over. I am in a world of pain and I feel the need to put my pain into prose. Those of you who know me might recollect this isn’t the first time I’ve spilled my soul over a keyboard in the name of literature and heartache so here it goes.

She’s run off again. I say “she” (being the love of my life) but the person currently living within the body of my Mallory (its a pet name) isn’t that passionate feisty girl I fell in love with a year ago. No, where once there was a sexy, sassy, young woman with a Lancastrian accent that made my knees quiver there now stands something else. A coke snorting, boozing, snarling, selfish horror has hijacked the controls of my Mallory and like a plane of terrorists has set course for self destruct.

Perhaps a bit of cliche, I know you’re probably thinking this is going to be one of those occasionally entertaining but bitter tirades against the “Ex” you see so much so in personal blogs. But no, this isn’t a simple poison pen letter to air my grievances . This is really a eulogy, or maybe just a plea for a relationship that hangs by a thread.

Fuck, where to begin? How much of a back-story do you need? Even though on the bus back home I was running it through my head, thinking of the paragraphs I would write, the witty references, the slightly pretentious and verbose prose, now I’m faced by the keyboard its all gone to pot. I guess like my emotions its all over the place. Like my Mallory.

You see she likes to party, and who doesn’t? But there comes a point in the night when its not about partying anymore but its about escape and that’s when it gets scary. I haven’t seen her for two weeks, she tells me she has no money and I believed her. Hell I’ve got no money, who has?!
But that money wasn’t going on day to day things. No, it was going on booze and coke and I should have guessed. Its partly my fault, even though I knew something was up I didn’t say anything because I’ve been treading on eggshells ever since we got back together in January. Recently whenever I broach a tricky subject, or one that my Mallory doesn’t agree with I get abuse. Not constructive criticism, angry stubborn abuse. She threatens all sorts of emotional blackmail, threatens that its “not working out” because she’s not getting her way, and the drinks start flowing again and I relent.

Some nights when she’s been drinking, and I don’t mean those nights when she has a glass or two and is fine but REALLY drinking, I don’t know who is in the room with me anymore. It’s terrifying, watching someone you love descend into madness and you’re too scared to do anything about it. I try to suggest that she’s had enough for the night and I get accused of being “boring” or that I don’t understand her, like I’m wrong for not letting her drink until she doesn’t know where she is or who she is and starts talking to the invisible demons in her mind.

So I stand by and watch it happen. I’m her audience for whatever horrors lurk inside her head. And I clear up after her, make sure she doesn’t hurt herself and hold her hair back while she vomits. I run round her like some spineless browbeaten husband because I hope (not think, its just blind hope) that somehow this is cathartic and the issues that she has (and they are valid issues, I’m not denying that) are being dealt with. The morning after its back to normal, no mention of what happened the night before and I think I have the woman I love back again.

But I don’t. If anything things are worse. We’ve all been in that dark place, I myself have been drunken and hurt and violent. It once got so bad that after some girl in bar stole my shades I judged that ALL girls were responsible and went out into the street and smacked some poor stranger in the face. So horrified was I that I’d become the type of mindless selfish thug I hate I never drank again. I don’t miss booze at all.

My Mallory on the other hand carries on like that. This Sunday she was so out of control it took the police and bouncers to sedate her before taking her to sleep it off in the cells. I don’t want to imagine what it looked like, the woman I love, the women I let into my heart, the women who looks into my eyes and talks to me without saying a word being held down on the cold hard street like some chav, like some reject from Booze Britain kicking and screaming like a wild animal, no concept of whats going on and fighting everyone and everything.
Now you see why I refer to it like there are two women living in the one body.

She cries for help, she realises there is a problem. She knows its a wake up call but that same night she’s on the booze again. I’m at my wits end. She’s 70 miles away but might as well be on Mars for all I can do. I am the pathetic, powerless joke of man who can only guess what my woman gets up to while I’m at home in Leeds. I’m not pleading for sympathy either, I’m just telling it how it is, how my mind sees it all.

So I go to her mum for advice, the one person who despite all the trials and tribulations my Mallory has gone through has always been waiting for her when she comes back from her voyage through her personal hell. And it’s a relief, we are both saying the same thing. Thank Shatner there is someone else who loves Mallory as much as I do (more so probably) and who can see what her behaviour really is.

But can we do anything about it? No, we can’t. We are as powerless to stop this as the nation was to stop that stupid war in Iraq. We’re just not in the loop. Its not really a loop either, its just one person and the torment she is creating for herself. Friends tell me you can’t make an addict admit they have a problem but part of me wants to abduct Mallory, stick her in a basement, blindfold and blast white noise at her until she breaks down and realises the nightmare she is causing. That just isn’t going to work though. She has to admit that the constant boozing, snorting and taking anything else thats going round is going to kill her. Thats no hyperbole either, overdoses and hospitalisations have happened before and they’re going to happen again.

I live in fear of the day soon when the hospital calls and either she’s in a ward or in a morgue. I can’t even begin to seriously comprehend what her death would be like. Luckily I’ve never had anyone close to me die. I was upset when Peely died, and a few other celebs too but never anyone close to me, never anyone real. Mallory has, her dad died last year. She’s still struggling to come to terms with this, who wouldn’t? Like falling in love for the first time, someone close to you dying must be one of those experiences that you can’t describe, you just know.
Sometimes I wish I could understand that trauma, perhaps I might peek into that murky singularity inside her head for a moment and know. But I just don’t think I have it in me which makes me think I’ve failed her.

So yes, I’ve feel I’ve failed her. I’ve failed to understand what the death of her dad means to her and I’ve failed to save her from herself right now. But, I shouldn’t be too hard on myself. Her mother has tried so many times to stop the bingeing but all she gets is abuse, lies and contempt. What chance have I got in helping her?

Before you tire of the self-pitying there is a point to this. Yes, this is actually how I feel but a friend pointed me in the direction of this;

Because of someone else’s drinking:

* Am I worried?
* Am I losing sleep?
* Do I feel sorry for myself, inadequate or guilty?
* Am I ashamed of my situation?
* Do I ever feel embarrassed by the drinker’s behaviour?
* Do I make excuses for the drinker and take on their responsibilities?
* Am I tired, nervous, depressed?
* Am I short-tempered and frustrated at times?
* Do I ever feel desperate and alone?

It shocked me. Not because it was saying how I felt (it does) but because it was on an Alcoholism site. We joke about calling people an “alkie” because they are fond of a drink or five but you never really feel its going to happen to you. Well I didn’t anyway. I didn’t think I’d be living my own daytime TV Movie about alcohol addiction, I didn’t think I’d be using terms like “enabling” and “the first step is admitting you have a problem” but I am.

So worried am I that the women I love is going to destroy herself I’m now falling into a depression. Not just a general sadness but the sort of depression that makes you stare blankly into space, the sort that makes you not want to get out of bed in the morning, the sort that makes you retreat into your safe room and never want to come out. I have suffered from clinical depression in the past but I beat it and it was because I reached out for help and thank fuck it was there. I may have lost all my friends at the time and had to retreat back home to my worried mother but I fucking did it and I came back stronger than ever.

Now though I have a choice, I can either save myself from falling further into depression until I need pills and therapy to get back out or I have to give up on the woman I love. This is one of those Sophies’ Choice moments, the sort of decision you never want to make. Do I carry on trying to get Mallory to save herself and go down to hell with her or do I cut loose and hope she comes out of it herself and this time actually learn something?

Mallory may read this, but she already hates me for “conspiring” with her mother behind her back. She needs help, serious medical help but she’s still living under the delusion that everything is fine. The shower of cunts she’s hanging round with now are “enabling” her to do this while her mum and I are painted the bad guys. We’re bad because we care about her and want her stop killing herself. Her friends (or drinking buddies really) are good because they have one foot in the grave and like a good dance/fight/fuck. Oh, and they have cocaine.

So thats where I am right now. That’s where we are. I don’t know where she is or whats she’s doing.I want to do something but I can’t. There is nothing I can do, its up to her now.