17 years of delusions

17 years of delusions.

Our years of marriage were like that of many couples, happy enough. But enough, really wasn't enough. We both deserved more. But what I was lacking was a reasonable benchmark.

Our relationship started 17 years ago. I was a naive uni student. I hardly drank, didn't smoke cigarettes, but did enjoy a bit of pot. I was young, fresh, full of life and even more full of potential.

He was a seasoned drug user. Charismatic, sexy and forbidden.

Our first 'glimpse' of each other was the start of something neither of us could have predicted. We were walking through the grounds of the apartment block of our drug dealer, me scoring a gram of pot, him... Amphetamines, speed, goey.

Passing on the foot path, me in a long flowing skirt, no shoes and blue and purple dreadlocks. Him, torn jeans, red dreadlocks and a smile to die for. After about 10, 15 steps we both turned to see the other looking back, we both smiled.

I will always remember that smile. Crooked, seductive.

I didn't see him again until my pot dealer became my friend. I started spending more time with him and his wife as friends rather than just to score my weed. Then it happened. One afternoon they were having a party. There he was. That crooked, seductive smile. The dreadlocks were gone, but my attraction to him was just as it had been when I turned to have that second look all those months earlier.

This time, I had an aqua bob and was trying to be tougher than I really was. Of course he could see right through me. He saw this vulnerable, 21 year old girl in a world far exceeding her experience.

That night we had sex in the park. It was probably the most impulsive and uninhibited sex I had ever had. It was liberating. It was mind blowing. It opened a door to a me I didn't really know.

From that night we were inseparable. I fell in love with a man I didn't know. With a man who had a life I didn't understand. With a man who would rule my heart for the next 17 years.

In a bid to help me understand what he was about he showed me how he would shoot up. It was disgusting. It was upsetting. It was him. I, however was so blinded by this overwhelming emotion of love, personal growth, and sexual liberation, I was willing to see him for who he was, not what he did. I saw past the drugs, the drive to score, the never ending hunger for the needle.

As we embarked on a relationship, all who saw us together, knew there was something special. Magic. Electric.

We never fought. We complemented each other. We brought out the best in the other. We were in total and uncontrollable love.

We spent a couple years in this dream state. Fishing and camping. We spent many days and nights on the creeks and rivers surrounding our homes. We developed our relationship surrounded by nature. It was idyllic.

Over time I was less willing to see past the holes in his arms. I was growing into a woman who wanted more for my future. I wanted a family, but not with a drug addicted partner.

I thought we could grow together. I thought I would make him see life was wonderful even without shooting up at every possible opportunity. I thought love would conquer all.

I was wrong.

To his credit, he did make the commitment to go to rehab. The Buttery in Byron Bay. He was isolated from all he knew. He couldn't speak with anyone from his past. Including me.

He lasted a few weeks.

Out of the blue he called me from Byron. He told me he had left.
He was distressed. I wanted him to be 'fixed'. But more importantly, I wanted him in my arms.

It took 2 days to get home to me after making that phone call. It took more 2 days to let go of each other once we were reunited. We spent that first night encased in the other. Not once that night did we leave the safety and comfort of each other's arms. Not even for a second.

We were both oblivious to the fact we were polar opposites. We craved different things and had expectations the other could not meet. We thought we could make it. Our love so intense, nothing would be able to break us.

Over the next year or so our differences became more and more apparent. We started to spend time apart. He would spend hours playing on his computer while I cried myself to sleep. Our magic was gone, even if the love was not.

One night at a party, we were all taking pills. The party was a lot of fun, until he gave my 2nd to another woman. Donna. The night took a turn for the worse. Then at an after party he made me feel like a burden. He expected me to drive home, off my face, alone. Leaving him there.

I was so hurt and angry. But I was, and still am a hopeless romantic. I believed love would prevail.

But really, this was the beginning of the end.

Not long after this I moved out. He continued to chip away at my self worth and self esteem. Pushing me away little by little until I was at breaking point. Eventually I ended the relationship.

Although I was the one to say it was over, he orchestrated it. I was devastated. So much so that I couldn't eat, sleep or function for that matter. I lost so much weight my body started shutting down. In total I lost more than 30% of my body weight in 3 months and my doctor advised me to put on weight or he would forcibly hospitalise me.

I changed doctors.

I was so unaware of my fragile state of mind and subsequent weight loss I didn't give this doctors advice a second thought. It wasn't until I went to buy myself some new pants that I noticed how much weight I had actually lost. I grabbed a size 14 off the rack and went to the change room. The pants literally fell to the ground. I went and got a size 12. Still too big. I had not fit into a size 10 in years. I finally realised I was not the old person covered in fat and self loathing. I was a butterfly ready to emerge, this new, slim and sexy woman.

I quit my job, shaved my head, sold my car and planned a trip back packing around Australia. But before I left he turned up at my house in the middle of the night. So unexpected was his visit I actually had someone else in my bed. Although this someone else was not a sexual partner, it was still a very awkward situation. He and I took the cushions off the couch and slept on the lounge room floor. When we awoke, thankfully, my bed partner was gone.

Even though our relationship was over and I was leaving we spent a couple of weeks together. Totally and utterly together. Like it was in those early heady days.

The day I felt he saw me off at the bus station. I cried for the 10 hours from Hornsby to Murwillumbah. I hardly remember Murwillumbah, I was not in the ecstatic new traveler state I thought I would be in. However, I went on my way backpacking up the east coast. On Great Kepple Island I made friends with this girl I was sharing a dorm. One morning she told me I was crying in my sleep. I am thankful I don't remember what I had dreamed about that night, but I do know I spoke to him the day before. I had walked around the island, on beaches where I was the only person in sight. He was all I thought about.

As my travels went on he became less and less intrusive to my thoughts. After a few months and a few holiday flings, I made my way to Central Australia. I got a job at the resort town of Yulara. There I had a significant relationship with a man. But not a good match, even if we were, he was still sitting in the back of my mind, still deep in my heart.
One visit home, while is was in this relationship, I stayed with him. We didn't go all the way, but realistically we still had sex. My relationship only lasted about a year.

After 3 years of living in Central Australia, now teaching in the aboriginal community of Mutitjulu, I had acquired a dog, Oliver. This made holidays a challenge. One Christmas I was stuck. I was heading home to Sydney for the holidays, but no one wanted to pick me up from the airport with my large dog.

He had a ute. So naturally I asked him to pick me up from the airport. Once again the instant attraction and passion was obvious. We picked up right where we left off. Once again sparking the electricity that fuelled the magic. That holiday was filled with love, passion and again wild, uninhibited sex.

I left to return to my life in the desert. I was not sad to be leaving him behind. I loved my life. I had the best social circle I could hope for. I had friends who truly cared about me and had some amazing experiences living in such a wonderful place. I was happy. The happiest I had been for a really long time. I was confident. I was a complete person.

I should have trusted my instincts!

Not long after I returned to Mutitjulu, I got a phone call saying he wanted to stop using. 6 years after we met. 15 or so years after becoming a user, he chose now to want to stop. I didn't want to make room for him in my current life. But in my heart I still deeply loved him. Although I didn't really want him in my life as a partner, I did want the best for him. I wanted to save him. So I opened my home and my life for him. From then my life was never the same.

Once he arrived it was evident he had a problem. 'Swapping the bitch for the witch' is the term I have been told. No longer shooting up, but drinking. Excessively.

After he arrived my social existence changed. It changed for ever. I haven't made friends since then, like the friends I made at Yulara. I haven't allowed myself to connect with people. I am not exactly sure why, but I know it is because of him. I know it is because of his drinking. Because I was embarrassed by his drunken persona. I should have brushed it off as him... He is not me and I should not be judged by his behaviour. But in reality, of course I was. He was is unpleasant drunk.

Even early on in this second phase of our relationship we were unhappy. We had bursts of the crazy, passionate love and fun of the past. But in general things were not like that. He drank and I worked. This was our existence. He did start working, but that was sporadic and didn't fill the void he obviously was trying to fill with beer.

The worst of that time was Christmas Eve 2005. My sister was visiting from Sydney and we took her out to the resort for dinner and drinks. He got hopelessly drunk. He even told me to leave him at the resort with 2 backpackers. Of course I didn't. I should have!

Driving the 30 km back home he was verbally violent. He has never been physically violent, but his words cut like a knife. They always have. He got out of the car at the visitors centre in the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. He would need to walk over sand dunes and through the scrub, past the cemetery, in the dark to make it home.

After dropping my sister home I went looking for him. I didn't find him. After a few hours he made it home. No one was happy that Christmas.

A few weeks later we moved to a small remote island off the coast of the Coburg Peninsula. This was a bad experience for all concerned. To start with, he worked at the school where I was teaching. Although he was a support in another classroom. Our life was made difficult by having the most unpleasant principal. She was nuts! Our time there was stressful from the day we arrived to the day we left. Lucky it was only 8 weeks. We were ever grateful for Cyclone Ingrid who demolished the school and opened the way for us to go the Tiwi Islands.

The next 4 years was a roller coaster of love and loathing. He continued to drink heavily and I continued to be embarrassed by his behaviour. His drinking was so bad I would lock him out and make him sleep in a hammock on the veranda. He would sleep walk, yell abuse in his sleep and even wet the bed. There is no way to explain the horror, shame and disappointment in someone you love when they piss on your back in the middle of the night.

Still we stayed together.

For about 14 months he underwent treatment for Hep C. This was a very horrible time. He was sick, he lost weight, he had rashes, he was nauseous. He was still drinking heavily. I had made a commitment to support him through this. I always have and always will have conviction in my word. I said I would be there for him and I was. It took every ounce of love I had to stay there and see him through it. But there I was. Loyal. Jaded. But still in love.

I don't understand why I still loved him so much. Happiness had a whole new meaning for me. It had been so long since I was truly happy I don't think I even realised it was missing.

One work trip into Darwin, we were staying in a hotel in the city. We had met up with some friends for dinner and a few drinks. As usual he got plastered. He would always tell me I was sour for not drinking and how much of better time everyone would have if I had a few drinks.
I left. I got up from the table and walked back to our hotel room. He lost the plot. He called me, furious. When we were back in the hotel room he was going ballistic. Yelling and screaming. Swearing. The reception called the room telling us to be quiet or we would have to leave.

Another night that burns in my heart was a New Year's Eve. We went and stayed in a cabin at Kakadu. We had dinner and started drinking cocktails. I even had a few drinks. I wanted to have a fun night out with the man I loved.

He vomited all through the bed. I threw him and the sheets int he shower the next morning and made him do the check out.

Our relationship reached breaking point. I wanted it to either improve or implode. We had been engaged since he first came to Mutitjulu, almost 5 years ago. I said we should get married. We did. Nothing fancy. A small gathering at my brothers restaurant over looking Lake Macquarie.

What was I thinking?

We were blissfully happy, or my warped understanding of happy, for a while. We had rekindled our sex life, which had been very lacking for a long time. We had banter and fun. Something also missing.

This waxed and waned over the next several months until he started working on the local sand mine on Melville Island. He was away for 2 weeks out of 3. This gave me some respite. Some time to forget the hardships and remember the love. To fantasise about what I wanted when he came home. How he would swoop me off my feet and make me feel like he did when I was 23 years old. Sometimes he would. Sometimes he hardly made it through the door before be were all over each other. Sometimes I would forget there were any problems at all. But of course there were.

In November 2008 he had some friends come over by boat from Darwin. We were living in a restricted area. Alcohol was limited to a personal quota. If you exceed this amount or smuggle it onto the island there were consequences.

For bringing liquor - 1 carton of full strength beer, one carton of mid strength beer and one carton of light beer- we lost our Hilux and boat. Gone! To sit and rot at the police station while we continue to pay the personal loan used to purchase them.

It was 5 more months until we left the island. Life was not the same. The loss of our most valuable possessions changed our life. Not for the better.

By the time we left the island we had be trying to conceive for almost 2 years. We had been diagnosed with unexplained infertility and advised IVF was our only chance of being parents. We saved and prepared for the clinical task of making a baby.

For the first time in a long time we had a little luck. The cycle before starting IVF I fell pregnant naturally. I had a 'Spontaneous' as my fertility clinic called it. We were on our way to becoming parents.

He was now working at a mine near Tennant Creek. Still 2 on 1 off. I was working as a special ed support teacher travelling to remote communities across the Top End. A wonderful time in every respect. I loved my job. I loved being pregnant. I loved getting rounder and bigger. I loved my husband. We had reached a height we had not experienced for years. Literally years. Even still our happiness was pitted with problems.

Our first ultra sound. I was 7 weeks. We had gone through so much to make this baby. We had waited so long to see a little heart beat pumping away inside me. He turns up to the appointment after scoring and shooting up, wired. I was devastated. I could not relish this magical experience because I was overwhelmed by what felt like betrayal.

After saving for IVF, we now had a little money. Something we had not had in bulk, ever. We bought a house. The dream was coming true. A child, a home, a happy family. On the surface it seemed perfect. Simmering underneath the same old problems bubbled away. He was still drinking and even using now and then.

The birth of our son is the best thing to ever come from our relationship. The years of hardship and pain are worth every tear. He is my reason for breathing.

I was on paid leave for 18 months. 6 months maternity leave and 12 months study leave. I was exceptionally lucky. I was so excited about being a mum. A stay at home mum. I had wanted a baby for so long and finally I was holding him in my arms. My reason for living became evident.

As a first time mum I was infatuated with this tiny creature before me. This little life I made inside of me. And I was able to be at home with him and grow with him and devote all my attention to him.

In all this he had a child to a previous relationship. She was born after we met. About 3 weeks after we met. Her mum went south to be with her family when she was pregnant and told him she didn't want to have a relationship with him even though they were having a child.

His daughter featured periodically over the 13 years of our relationship. He had minimal contact and she visited a couple of times. By this point she had stayed with us for 6 weeks while living on the Tiwi islands. But face to face was all but non existent. Now, she wanted to come live with us.

I didn't want the responsibility of a teenager. I was a new mum. I had an infant. All I wanted was to be a mum to my tiny little child that I was still getting to know and understand. I was backed into a corner.

He told her "I say yes, but I have to ask..."
How could I say no? How could I be the one who turns her away? Just because I wasn't ready to care for her, didn't mean I never wanted to, nor did it mean I wanted to drive wedge between us - her and me, her and her dad, her dad and me. I had no choice.

The 6 months she lived with us was both positive and challenging. I had someone to talk to and it was lovely seeing her and her brother bonding. But she was a ready grown teen with her own personality, experiences and issues. I didn't want to deal with these things. I just wanted to play with my son, sit silent and look at his perfect little body. Enjoy these first months of being a mum... A first time mum. I felt, and still do, I missed out on something special as a result. I am glad she lived with us and had that time to get to know her dad and her brother, and me for that matter. The timing was just so unfair.

While she lived with us he continued to work away. So I was being a parent to his child in his absence. This made the situation even more strained. She went back to her mum after 6 months. I think she couldn't wait to leave!

I returned to work while he continued to work away. I lived as a single parent. But had the luxury of having a part time husband. To be there for me when he got home. Or something like that.

I was often tired, lonely and waiting excitedly for him to come home from work. He would come home with several work mates. People he had been living in close contact with for the 2 weeks away. Drinking every night and having his meals with, talking with, being face to face with. They would fly in, sit under my house while my son and I waited. Waited for my partner, lover, husband to come up to me. To tell me he missed us. To want to see me and hold me and show me he loved me. I would more often than not wait in tears. Tears of frustration, tears of rejection, tears of exhaustion. The pain I experienced and tears was apparently my way of manipulating and controlling him. This was HIS week off. HIS break. HIS R&R.

I was at the bottom of the priority ladder. I was the crazy wife that would embarrass him in front of his mates. The crazy bitch that no one could understand he was with. These people obviously don't know our history.

Unhappiness seemed to be the way of life. But still there was so much love. Maybe I am deluded, but I was still in love with him. I was still attracted to him. I still needed him to want me.


Over the next 2 years we lived this cycle of work and tears. I don't think there was ever a week home that was not shattered by yelling. Me wanting him to show me I was as important to him as his work mates. Him wanting me to leave him to his own devices. All the while alcohol played a staring role with the occasional appearance of the old bitch.

Eventually he changed jobs so he was not fly in fly out. Although this seemed to be a solution to our limited time together, things were actually worse. He was up and out of the house before we would even wake in the morning and he would go to bed early every night. He didn't have the group of days off with us and he would need to sleep all day while on night shift. This meant I needed to keep our toddler quiet. In fact I think this added a new dimension of stress to the mix.

He was bitterly unhappy with work as was I. Something needed to change. At the end of 2012 I took a job remote. It was a big change for my family, but one he supported completely. At the time anyway. I was going to a high demand position meaning a commitment of 50+ hours a week. He was going to be the stay at home carer for our son. This was a win win situation. In theory anyway.

The first few months of 2013 were good. I learnt a lot in a short time. I felt good about myself and was proving successful in my job. He was learning about being the full time carer. He seemed to take it in his stride. It was lovely to see. But drinking continued to affect our interactions.

Mid year we got a nanny. He didn't want to stay at home. Plus we needed a second income and we thought a nanny would work well. It didn't. For many reasons.

The second half of the year was good irrespective of the nanny problems. Or so I thought. He returned to fly in fly out work. I would fantasise about him coming home, just as I used to. And just as he used to, would come home and I be left disappointed. I didn't even notice. I would be glad he was there. Safe. In general I thought things were good. I thought we were happy. I am sure my understanding of happy was somewhat distorted, but I felt things were still ok.

As always there were still those recurring problems.

My sexual desire would shrivel away with each can he consumed. Our connection was stretched as far as it could go. It was about to break.


Finally he made the call...

The week before my birthday, 2 weeks before Christmas, a month before our 6th wedding anniversary.

"I don't think we should stay married".

"I am marriage weary".

"I don't find you attractive anymore and my feelings have changed".

"When I am at home, I feel like I am acting".

After all these years of feeling less than what I should have, I was dropped like a stone to the bottom of the sea. The times of seeing past the problems to see the man I loved, putting my needs aside in pursuit of something greater, ripped away like a band aide no longer needed.

The pain in my heart was all consuming. I crumbled. I was a shadow of the woman I knew still resided somewhere deep inside me. I reached for her, but I needed help to find her.

At this point I found out I did have a friend who was all I could hope for. She was my saviour. The person who threw the life line. She heard my heart break. She reached out to find my sister and told her I needed help.

My family then took me away from the pain. For a few weeks anyway. My mum paid for me to go to them, to be sheltered in the loving arms of those who will never let me down. Unfortunately this was a short lived respite. I needed to return to Darwin to sort out our 'assets and liabilities'. I needed to seek legal advice and ultimately legal representation. This was both an unexpected, distressing process and a realisation that I was not going to wake up and see it was just a horrible dream. That I have to continue down this track until the end.

I am still travelling.

It has taken a relatively short time to come to terms with the end of my marriage. Maybe because I know I deserve happiness. Not just the illusion of happiness. Maybe because I know I am still young enough to pursue more for myself than what I settled for. Maybe because I know my marriage was doomed before it started.

17 years of believing in a love greater than anything the world could throw at us. Maybe I was delusional, I don't really know. There truly was 17 years of loving. Even if it was a damaged version of love.
After 17 years I have gained 2 things.


Firstly, I know I will no longer settle for less than what makes me happy. I have the will and the knowledge to make this so.

Secondly I have my son. He is the light that shines in my every day.

Now I have a new unwritten future. I am not waiting for happiness to find me anymore. I am going to go out and find it for myself.