Hiding Behind Myself

By Meghan Clark

This is my real life story filled with actual journal entries of verbal and emotional abuse. A story of a marriage to an alcoholic filled with rage and how I coped with the verbal attacks on my faith, family, friends and spirit. The loneliness and heartache at times were too much to bear. The day I had to put my beloved pet to sleep because of that rage was the day a hole entered my heart and stayed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781491797983

Meghan Clark

Meghan Clark was born in Virginia. She graduated Summa Cum Laude from a Virginia college with a double major in Psychology and Sociology, and a minor in Human Services. Meghan is currently working on a family genealogy book beginning with her great-great-great-great-grandfather, a Revolutionary War soldier.

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Copyright © 2016 Meghan Clark.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-7992-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-9798-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016908172

iUniverse rev. date: 07/26/2016

Contents

Preface

Introduction

Prologue

Thoughts on My Journal Entries

Hiding from Myself

My Peaceful Days

Good and Bad Days

Alcoholism

Reconciliation

Poems in the 1990s

Vine of Life

Gentle Rain

The Early Years

Yosemite

Getting Married

Life

Summer Rain

Bizarre Dreams

She Was My Sister

I Sang the Song

Dreams Again

Characteristics of Alcoholism

Faith

Hell Has Arrived

Dawn

Along the Path

Love’s Philosophy

Reflection

A New Millennium

Brother’s Big Birthday Party with Special Guests

Something Good

A Death I Will Never Forget

Moving Again

Settling In

Noticeable Changes in Jack and Me

Why?

Coming to a Close—Changes and Resolutions

Epilogue

Afterword

Resource List

To my two beautiful and supportive daughters, who love me and stand by me. Their support and understanding are immeasurable. I love them with all my heart.

To a special sister who first edited the manuscript with due diligence and made all the difference in its coming together in a cohesive way. Thank you for all the editing and reviews.

To a dear professor friend and author of published books/articles, thank you for your advice, editing, guidance, and encouragement.

And in memory of Louvie, my buddy and four-legged friend.

My beloved Jack Russell, Louvie, was eleven years old when I sent him on his way to heaven. He was a healthy, spirited, and loving companion. I should have had more years with him, but that was not possible because of the hatred between my husband, Jack, and Louvie. I won’t forget him.

Preface

I t took me years to write about my dog, Louvie, because every time I tried, I cried my heart out. It just hurt too much. Even today, almost eleven years later, as I read the prologue to my prayer group friends, I cried, and so did they.

Hiding behind Myself is based on my marital journal of twenty-three years. These are all real events, people, and places. Names have been changed to keep the peace and not cause embarrassment to anyone in the book.

My hope is that Hiding behind Myself will offer encouragement, strength, and resolution to change the situation, whether it be with alcoholism or other addictions or abuses that have caused a person to hide his or her true self for personal protection and to keep the addiction hidden from others.

Introduction

Who Am I?

I grew up in a blue-collar family of eight children. While our parents provided the necessities, we realized that if we wanted extras, it was up to us. If we wanted a car, we worked and paid for it. If we wanted a college education, we had to figure out how to accomplish that. Both parents instilled a value system in us, mostly by their integrity, beliefs, and the way they lived. If our parents wanted any extras, they either had to lay it away or save for it. My strong sense of right and wrong, how to treat others, and to think of others before self were strong values, but it created indecision on my part in relationships. Putting me first was not something I’d learned to do. Doing the right thing, therefore, has been part of who I’ve been since childhood. Maybe that answers part of the question of why I stayed so long in a bad marriage.

I married Jim at seventeen while I was still a senior in high school, way too young for this huge kind of responsibility. Jim was the boy next door, and it seemed inevitable that we would get married. Neither of us was prepared for the financial strain, raising children, working full-time, and going to college. We stayed married for twenty-plus years with our finances never getting any better than living from paycheck to paycheck. We were not advocates of divorce, and both families would have frowned upon that. I hoped that counseling would fix our problems. It didn’t. We grew apart, wanting different things in life and not agreeing on money management and discipline for the children.

As a way of expressing myself, I started writing poems in the 1990s. I could keep my feelings to myself while still being productive and enjoying my family. Unfortunately, when our marriage was over, there was a lot of grief, guilt, and remorse on both parts, but I needed to get away from the huge burden of it all. My children were graduating from high school, and I needed to be just me for a change. Unfortunately, that change involved a second marriage that failed for many reasons.

I have come a long way in my life. I believe that if I had not kept a journal of my second marriage, to Jack, I would have found a less desirable way to cope with the trauma of living with an alcoholic. I do know that my mind-set and resolve have changed over the years, and I no longer expect anything from my marriage to Jack. He has not changed except to continue on a downhill spiral.

In working on Hiding behind Myself, I relived many of the ugly episodes, the unpleasant, hateful, painful words and actions. Now it has made me focus on what I really want in my life and whether that will actually happen. I can now see some resolutions about what I am going to do. I believe I can answer the why now. The answer surprises me.

Hiding behind Myself is primarily an account of journal entries and focuses mainly on the interactions between my husband, Jack, and myself. Other information contained here is commentary that I have added to give you a better understanding of how life with Jack went from nearly utopia to hell. I started keeping the journal as a way to help me cope with our deteriorating relationship brought on by Jack’s alcoholic rages. During the years that I kept the journal, many things happened in my life, but the significant things that stand out are the deaths of my father, sister, brother, nephew, two brothers-in-law, and other close friends and relatives. While all of these had a profound impact on my life, my marriage to an alcoholic made me realize that I had become a woman with two faces. One face was presented to others with a smile and a pretense that all was well while the other face was marked with sadness and pain.

In 1992, I started keeping my journal. It was a way to cope with Jack’s arguments, insane accusations, temper outbursts, impotency, and drinking and my being forced to be a referee between my husband and dog. Hiding behind Myself describes me well. I am leading a double life—a life that is good in many ways but is also a front. It’s a life mired in the effects of alcoholism and rage. Anyone living with an alcoholic knows what I mean.

The things I care most about are my children and grandchildren, church, book club, prayer group, and Bible study classes. Most people see only the side of me that I want them to see, not the one I hide behind.

I am a caregiver and likable, friendly, and loving. I put others first. It’s who I really am, and I like that person. The other part of me stands in the shadows with a secret, unhappy life, one filled with sadness, depression, anger, and at times an eating disorder. I realized that overeating was a way to fill up a hole inside of me that was not being filled with love, respect, and companionship. I hid those aspects from others. I have a game face, one that saves me from embarrassment when Jack creates public spectacles.

Living with an alcoholic has changed who I am and how I act. It has forced me to hide behind myself.

My hope for offering this glimpse into my life is that others may identify with it and know that they are not alone and not to blame for the hell they go through. Also, I hope to provide some strength, encouragement, and suggestions for moving forward. And lastly, my hope is for families and friends to gather some insight into what life must be like for those living with alcoholism. My life with Jack has taken me through darkness, bitterness, pain, heartache, loneliness, rejection, and, yes, even hatred. I found my resolve and know what I must do.

My personal search has been guided by prayer, humility, calmness, and a life that is leaning on Jesus and making God’s Word live in my heart and voice. I rely on a higher power to see me through. I pray that someday Jack can find a way to deal with his demons and find peace. I pray for his salvation.

I grew up in a large family where our parents provided a stable, secure environment. Our parents always took us to church. They provided a moral and ethical compass for me and my seven siblings. My daughters always offer support, but no one knows my day-to-day battles with Jack’s temper and the alcoholism.

Beginning in 1995, we started to move around the country because of Jack’s loss of jobs or perceived loss of jobs. Most of these losses were a direct result of Jack’s drinking and temper and his fear of losing yet another job. When I admitted to myself that my marriage was in trouble, it was a blow, and I realized that I could never get comfortable in one place for fear of having to leave again. The burdens became more difficult.

I realize these moves could have been prevented had his fears and drinking not taken over his life. I started to deal with all the changes of moving, making new friends again and again, and leaving places I loved only to start all over again by keeping it all to myself. Jack didn’t care about that. My journal became my salvation. I showed my friends and family that all was okay by not sharing with them and keeping the alcoholism a secret.

Hiding behind myself enabled me to stay in a marriage riddled with arguments, embarrassments, fear, and anguish. I can’t say at this point that a large part of my staying with Jack was not for purely selfish reasons. I enjoyed my freedom and my ability to be independent and to do what I wanted with my friends. However, it did not replace love, companionship, and intimacy. My marriage vows were important, so I stayed. I tried the for better or worse. But there is more to the story.

Now in 2015, we are divorced. I am sixty-five years old, and Jack is seventy. We both live near the ocean in North Carolina and used to enjoy living on the beautiful coast with the wonderful beaches. The ocean is a wonderful place to lose one’s thoughts and pain while walking alone on the beach. Over the past few years, my visits to the beach became less frequent, less enjoyable. Now I rarely go at all.

This is my story told through my journal entries.

Prologue

I t’s May 1, 2005, and I am sitting on the floor of the vet’s office cradling my sweet Jack Russell, Louvie. The tears won’t slide down my face fast enough; my heart can’t break hard enough; my guilt and punishment will never be enough. And my love isn’t enough.

I cried over and over, I’m sorry, so sorry. You were my buddy, my best buddy. I love you, and I’m sorry. Over and over, I wailed as his life slipped away. The first injection the vet administered was to keep him calm and make him sleepy; the next one was to end his life.

He went to sleep in my arms, and I rubbed him and whispered to him, I love you. Please forgive me. I sat there for a long time. I will never be the same. I made the decision. I felt that I had no other choice.

All of this happened because of living with an alcoholic—living with a man filled with rage and living with the threat that he could strike out at him at any time. My pet didn’t understand the situation but only wanted to protect me when the screaming and cursing started. And now this man was standing there crying and pleading for me to stop. Why not before now? What’s he trying to prove—that he hurts also? Too late, Jack! It was a point of no return for me.

While I was sobbing, my dog was dying, Jack was crying, but this is all his fault! Knock it off, Jack! You don’t deserve to ease your guilt by crying now.

Making the decision to end my pet’s life was one of the most painful, heartbreaking things I have ever done. Even as I try to write this down, I am filled with anguish, and the tears fall. I made this decision on May 1, 2005, and there isn’t a time of remembering him that the pain doesn’t return. I will carry that pain of losing Louvie and the anger I feel toward Jack with me until I die. Louvie’s ashes will be buried with me when I die.

Louvie wasn’t just a pet; he was part of my family, my buddy. He comforted me, and I comforted him, and I shielded him from Jack’s rage and threats of killing him with a butcher knife,