Loving an addict is one of the most challenging loves a person can have. You know deep down inside you that they are an addict and they will always be, but you hope it changes. It doesn't change no matter how much you want it to.
I knew I could never have what I wanted with Dawson. I could never have that beautiful dream house in the country. I wasn't going to have any children with him. What I would have was maybe a decent running car, a small apartment, and my dog. That is the only life I would have with him, because if I started to get ahead Dawson would find a way to screw it up for the both of us.
I wanted to believe that the love I had for him would be enough, and that I wouldn't need any thing but that. I was lying to myself, and I had been for a long time now. I would always wake up to emptiness because something was missing. If I did something for Dawson, it was because I loved him, not because I expected something in return. However, if Dawson did something for me, as small as making me a dinner, I would hear about it for days. He did something for me one time in months so I shouldn't continue to expect more. I guess I was selfish for expecting more in his eyes.
In no way shape or form do I want to portray Dawson as some terrible person, because I don't think he is. I do think his addiction took over his life though, and the Dawson I met doesn't exist any longer.
Going to counseling in a short time helped me in so many ways. It opened my eyes. Yes, I continued in the relationship for quite some time after because I loved him and I didn't want to let go. It's the scariest thing to think about starting over, and letting go of the only thing I knew.
It was a pattern with Dawson. There would be a few good weeks, and then one horrible day. When I say horrible, I mean horrible. The longest, saddest, most painful day. Each time I had a horrible day with him, I lost a piece of myself.
One day in particular, Dawson was to make a payment to me. That morning, he told me he was having severe kidney pain. I was at work and there was nothing I could do to help him. He had text me and told me his manager was taking him to the hospital. When I had got off of work I had text him to find out exactly what was going on, and he did not answer me. I then called him and he did not answer. I was extremely worried. In the past they had took him into surgery, so I thought maybe he had a bad infection that required immediate surgery. So I called the hospital to find out what room he was in and the status on him. The hospital had no record of him being there. I then called another hospital and they also had no record of him there either. At this point I was angry, because I knew he had lied to me. I called his work and asked to speak with his manager. I asked her if she had taken Dawson to the hospital and she had no idea what I was talking about. She told me he worked his shift and left as normal. I was shaking in anger. I knew Dawson had lied to me to get out of paying me. I left work and drove straight to his house. All the doors were locked and the curtains were closed. So I called Dawson's roommate, our friend, Andre. I drove to Andre's work and got his keys and went back to their place and I let myself in. Dawson was obviously in a hurry to get out of there because he left the Xbox controller on. I went upstairs and searched and he was nowhere to be found. Turns out he ran out the back door when I came in the house and hid from me for about 30 minutes before I got him to answer his phone.
When I talked to him I instantly flipped out. He wouldn't tell me where he was. I told him I was taking my Xbox and my games since he didn't wanna show his face. He started calling me a bitch and telling me what a horrible person I was as he always did. Any time Dawson lied or did something to hurt me he would find a way to turn it around and make me look like the bad person. That's what addicts do. They manipulate you all day every day.
After fighting for a good while I got him to come back to the apartment. We continued to fight there, but he wouldn't give me any answers as to why he didn't have money. I cornered him in his kitchen because he kept walking away from me. He told me to get away from him but I wouldn't move. Every time he tried to walk away I got more in his face and eventually he just shoved me out of the way. When he did that I lost my footing a little and fell into the table slightly. At that moment I just saw complete red and went after him. I don't care that it was a shove to get me out of his face, he put his hands on me. I went after him and just punched him in the back of the head. He grabbed my fists and warned me not to hit him again or he would hit me back. Of course I ran my mouth and told him to hit me, but he didn't. I knew not to hit him again, because I didn't trust him not to hit me back. He might of said it to scare me, but either way I wasn't testing him.
I backed off and just sat down in fear and disbelief that our relationship got to the point where any type of physical abuse started.
That was one bad day. The next day was just apologies and back to pretending nothing was wrong.
I told him at the end of every fight that "It was okay" but it never was. I lied every day to him by telling him that.
