The Dark Corners Part 2

The Pink Elephant in the Room

*** This is the next in a collection of essays that I have felt compelled to write and/or finish for some time. Diving deep into some of the darker aspects of this journey - anger, guilt, self-pity, difficult aspects of Kara and my relationship, abject sadness, and then some.

I’m hoping to illuminate and examine all of those shady areas in the hopes that nothing malignant manifests within them at some point down the road. But also to paint a more complete and potentially relatable picture for others. Relationships and recoveries aren’t always pretty. And I think it’s unhealthy, potentially even dangerous to dwell exclusively on the more pleasing or comfortable aspects of both.

Some of these essays I started, or would revisit from time to time only to find that I wasn’t ready yet. While others I only recently wrote or began writing because I knew I would need to be in a good place to even attempt them. I can safely say that I’m in that happy and healthy place now. Still, these were difficult to write, and I suspect they might not be the easiest things to read either. ***

Part 2: The Pink Elephant in the Room

August 2022

Kara had a drinking problem. A statement that smacks of a pot calling a kettle black, as I’m quite certain a few of my previous lady friends would attest. Because I was always the partner who abused substances more than the other in the relationship. And in the case of alcohol, probably caused my significant others to imbibe more than they would have normally.

My alcohol intake all but vanished once the heroin thing picked up speed. While most recovery models recommend not utilizing intoxicants of any kind, I continued drinking after heroin detox but in a much more contained fashion. And yes, I completely understand that I’m playing with fire. As I’ve mentioned before, I am not the poster boy for recovery. 

When Kara and I became a couple, however, it was the first time in a relationship that I was the less aggressive substance abuser, and it was a trip finally being the person cast in that relationship role. Now I was the one suggesting a stretch of “dry nights” or perhaps just a glass of wine or two with dinner. For the duration of our relationship, her drinking would be a semi-regular source of friction. It also didn’t take long for me to see that the reasons, as well as the ways that we drank, were somewhat different.

When we first got together, I just thought she was a hard partier. She was eight years younger than me, living in a new city, and was in a fresh and exciting relationship. I thought she was just getting after it a bit. It was excessive, but I had been there before so I tried not to judge too harshly - especially given the set of love goggles I was ogling her through. But as time went on, the fact that it was a real problem became more apparent. 

Kara had suffered some significant abuses and a number of traumas throughout her life. Perhaps due to those things and or random birth lottery brain chemistry, she was prone to bouts of depression and anxiety. Despite all of this or more likely because of it, she dedicated her life to giving young people in similar situations the tools to make it through to the other side as happy and healthy humans. Her job as a rural in-home crisis counselor was taxing, to say the least. The types and amount of abuse that she saw heaped onto children and teens on an almost daily basis was too much for even me to attempt to comprehend. It was physically draining and an emotional steamroller. So when she got home, she drank. 

She was almost never a mean drunk. In fact, she was usually quite jovial and fun to be around. Which made it all the more enticing for me to join in the fun. Which I did, in much the same way my previous girlfriends joined me. I have a fair amount of guilt for continuing to drink around her. Like if I had set a better example, she might not have been so inclined to overindulge. I’ll never know for sure, but “could’ve beens” hurt like hell and I would like to stop collecting them.

After I went to bed, she would keep drinking, though. For hours. Most of the time when I drank it was for fun, to relax, or to celebrate. Kara would do that too, but the driving force behind her drinking was to turn it all off. What happened to her, what’s happening to them, what’s happening around the corner and around the world. She drank to turn everything off, and eventually get some semblance of alcohol-induced slumber. As poor as it was, it was better than the night terrors she endured when trying to sleep sober.

She wasn’t interested in counseling for a number of reasons and was averse to taking any form of prescribed medication. She also wasn’t particularly open to the idea of eventually moving onto a job that might have been comparably impactful on the lives of her clients, but significantly less damaging to herself. Kara could be quite stubborn. As her partner and a person who loved her the way I did, it was frustrating and occasionally disheartening.

I understood where she was coming from, though. Kara was arguably the best in the business at what she did. On top of her inherent gifts as a communicator, she did not look like any counselor these kids had ever seen. A long-haired goth goddess with giant tits, leather boots, and a ton of tattoos. She was kryptonite for males of all ages and the archetype of cool for younger ladies as well as any number of older ones who never got to be what she somehow still was.

She knew how good she was and was also aware that nobody out there could do it better or have the same level of success at saving young souls. Though she never said it out loud, I believe she thought it was too late to save herself and was resigned to it, but that while she was able to, she was going to help as many kids as she physically and emotionally could before just falling apart.

Despite the differences, in some ways, she reminded me of myself with regard to her arc of substance abuse. She did show marked progress once we moved from the city and as we got a little older. Though she would still occasionally have those evenings that caused me to wake up and wonder, who the hell closed last night. And maybe it was just wishful thinking, but I saw the potentiality that she could eventually reign it in, at least to the point that I would no longer worry. I also knew that it was just as likely that she wouldn’t. I slowly realized that if I was going to be Kara’s life partner, it meant that I would have to be willing to watch her give away her soul little by little on a weekly basis, and perhaps slowly drink herself to death. And I accepted that. It was a deal I made with myself, and it really wasn’t much of a decision, either. 

No one had ever loved me so completely, and I had never before been so capable of offering the same in return. On the whole, our lives together were wonderful and she was so much my person, despite the alcohol abuse or whatever else might have been going on at any given time. I truly felt that while certainly imperfect, life with her was as happy as I could ever hope to be. And I know she felt the same. That’s how ever-loving magnificent it was being us. 

Of the many crushing blows doled out by the loss, one of the most impactful didn’t impact me at all. It was what the swift loss of Kara would mean to the rest of the world. Not only because of the horrific manner in which it happened. But because of the impact on all of her loved ones - friends, family, clients, and future clients. Every life that she was touching or might eventually touch, lost her in an instant. None of them made the same deal that I had made with myself. They were all supposed to be able to love her or receive her help from a safe distance. And friends and family would slowly come to grips with whatever issues or health concerns she might have incurred later in life. 

And who's to say that this remarkable human wouldn’t have been able to correct course in that way? There was nothing she wasn’t capable of. The best I can do with all of that now is to know that she made a real difference in the lives of so many. And that perhaps I can use her as inspiration to do the same someday, just in different ways.

The Dark Corners Part 1: It’s All Over