To The Man Who Loved Drugs More Than Me

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By Kady Turcol

While you stayed out for hours, days, and even weeks, I waited for you. While you locked yourself in the bathroom to self-medicate, I prayed for you.

While you made up countless amounts of lies and excuses, I covered for you. While you forcefully pushed me away, I faithfully tried to pull you closer.

While you were fighting to end your life, I was battling to save it.

I remember laying down at night, watching you while you were sleeping, begging God not to take you away from me; begging God to give you more time to beat this addiction. Sleeping with my hand on your stomach became the norm, and any time your breathing slowed down, I jumped to wake you.

I remember trying to get a hold of you after not hearing from you all day. Calls after calls after calls. Maybe he will respond to a text… Nope. Maybe if I tell him it’s an emergency, he will call me back… Nope.

With a racing heart and shaking hands, I stood by the window for hours; watching for you, waiting for you.

I remember all of the deception; lie after lie after lie. I wanted so badly to believe you, just once. I wanted to mean enough to you to be worth the truth.

I wanted you to have a conscience. I hated the way that you could look me straight in the eye and tell me a lie. I hated the way you could lay with me at night, muttering the words “I love you,” and then wake me up the next morning with a stab to the heart. He’s gone again.

I hated the way that you could shatter my heart in a million pieces, and then go weeks without even one single apology. All I wanted was to know that there was still some love, some compassion, some softness left in that blackened heart of yours.

I was angry, sad, depressed. My emotions were all over the place. I loved you, but God I hated you. I wanted you to feel the pain that you caused me, but all I wanted to do was take your pain away.

The strong urge to slap you every time you walked in the door high was overshadowed by the desire to hold you in my arms and tell you everything was going to be okay.

I remember having so much hope for you every time you told me you were going to get help, and just how heartbroken I was every time those dreams were shattered.

I remember looking at myself in the mirror; a mix of mascara and tears streaming down my face, asking myself why. How did I allow my life to fall into shambles over an addiction that I’d never even had?

Why don’t you love me enough to stop lying? Why don’t you love me enough to get better? Why isn’t my love good enough for you? Why don’t you even care?

You hated yourself, you wanted to die. I thought I could love you enough for the both of us. I thought that my love could fix you. I thought that you could still be capable of loving me, even with that twisted addiction that took over the man that I once knew.

I thought wrong. 

It took me years to realize that while you were my one true love, the drugs were yours. Nothing I did or said could ever change that.

In the midst of being so wrapped up in your sickness, I became sick too.

I loved you with a love that could not be tarnished. I loved you with a love that was so strong, so willing, so passionate.

 I loved you so much that I forgot to eat, forgot to take care of any other responsibilities, because all that consumed my mind was you.

I loved you with a love that took away my sense of self, my worth, my value, and my self-esteem. I loved you to the extent in which I forgot how to love myself.

I loved you so much that I became a part of the problem, enabling you was something that I never meant to do. I loved you so much that I….

I had to let you go.

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