Thankyou for the welcome! And yes, I suppose we have to be a special kind of people to deal with what happens. Recently found out that there is such a thing called Vicarious trauma, or second-hand trauma, in which the primary carer ends up with a lot of the lesser symptoms themselves (depression, apathy) - I checked the symptoms and I had 14 out of 15 of them which was a little concerning, but it's passed.
I lost friends due to my decision to stick with this guy. "How can you care that much?" "If he's as bad as you say, why do you do it?" Everytime I ended up in tears because of things he had done or said to me, or because of the latest 'episode' which had left me drained and so scared for him and so at-a-loss to be able to help him, my friends would just roll their eyes and act as if though I was causing it, or as if though it was my fault because I didn't just leave the room and lock the door, because I didn't tell him to go away and not bother me when he was coming to my room feeling suicidal and desperate to have someone to tell him things were going to be alright.
The beginning of the year, the only person I had left to talk to was him, and I couldn't tell him how much he had hurt me (emotionally, never physically - on/off relationship since we met which complicated things) I couldn't tell him how scared I was, how I was worried I was doing the wrong thing, because he refused to even admit he blacked out. If ever I tried to gently broach the subject he would clam up or change the subject or leave.
He would continue drinking, even though I had several times voiced the theory that alcohol often triggered an episode. I remember it once took me two hours to convince him to go back to his room when he was out drinking. people thought we were having a really tender hug, thought 'oh sweet'. We weren't hugging, I was physically holding his unconscious body on his stool. He would then wake up and go and get another drink or start dancing in response to my pleas to go to bed. He would snap at me everytime I broached the subject, and it took me shouting at him to make him listen and go to bed - I didnt want to shout because I've seen how he reacts to shouting going on around him, and he doesn't need that, but he refused to listen to my cajoling and it was only a matter of time before the flashbacks started or I wasn't able to disguise the fact that he was unconscious and people would gather round and try to help, call the stewards, the staff, maybe even the ambulance. I physically made him put his arm around me on the walk back because the ground was covered in ice and he kept pulling away, but then he would pass out and I was so scared he would hit his head and make it worse.
Anyway, basically carried him back to his room, undressed him for bed, he passed out on the bed, then when he woke up I told him to start unbuttoning his jacket, and his face crumpled and he started to cry and told me he was sorry, he never meant to do this to me, that I should just leave, that he wouldn't think any less of me if I left and that all he did was hurt me. Sat with him through all the blackouts that ensued, and the next day appologised for shouting but told him I knew him better than he did at that moment in time, so please trust my judgement - if I say you've had enough to drink and need to go to bed, just listen to me. And he did. It took me another month or two to convince him to accept the fact that he had a problem, that he blacks out, and that drinking can trigger it. He tried to deny it until I told him that unless he accepted the truth they would only get worse (it was getting daily, with the confusion and fear from the blackouts seeping into daytime normality.) I asked him if he enjoyed it to which his answer was obviously a resounding no, so I told him that unless he enjoyed it, he had to be honest with himself and admit there was a problem.
I made him read the symptoms of PTSD, which freaked him out and he was feeling heavily suicidal all the rest of that day, but when it came to evening and he had been drinking, he stopped of his own accord, just before I was about to ask him to, and said that he could tell that any more would 'make his head go bad'. I didn't want to tell him what to do - he is an adult, but in that case it was necessary as he would have just kept on ignoring the problem. But he's admitted it now, and has even read a couple of chapters from one of the self-help books which I got for him.
I hate the holidays. Over Easter he rang me passing out on the phone, inconsolably sobbing, begging me to make the blackouts stop, begging me to come and get him, begging me to let him come and stay with me. Threatening suicide, and passing out when walking home. The only thing I could do was talk calmly but firmly to him, and hope he didnt pass out in traffic or face-down in a puddle or some well-meaning stranger call an ambulance - he is scared enough of me when he wakes up not knowing where he is or how old he is, I would hate to think how frightened he would be to see male paramedics standing over him. We even discussed what would happen if I had been a guy trying to help him, and it's pretty certain I would have got punched immediatly, but being female it doesnt matter how scared he is, he wont hit a female.
Even just over a week ago he rang me frightened and angry at a new memory, and it being the holidays and us living at opposite ends of the country, I'm even more powerless to help him. At least if I'm physically there I can stop him from hitting his head, or hold his hand, or his head, or stop him from injuring himself when he's thrashing around. All I can do is talk soothingly down the phone and 'walk' him home.
One of the strangest things I find, is that when he first started blacking out he didn't know my name, didn't recognise me when he woke up. Now, no matter how far he's regressed in his head, he will be able to tell me my name. I get him to tell me my name, I think it makes him feel less confused and scared - he may not know where he is but he knows he recognises me, and he's said before that even when he couldn't remember my name he felt safe with me. That has to mean something.
Most of my friends keep asking me why I bother, why do I 'put myself through this', that I have to think about myself and put myself first, that I should just leave him and find some guy who wont compleltly drain me. They've even got angry at me for keeping on going back to him and putting myself on the line. All except one friend. She also has PTSD and it's due to her partner that she is in the amazing place in life she is now. She even told me (without having met the guy) that regardless of my feelings, if I start helping him get through this, I have to finish it. I can't leave at any point once I've commited.
I'm glad someone agrees - she knows I wont give up on him - she's known me for too long, but it was so good to have someone who agreed with my decision to follow instinct and help him time after time again, even when he went through that stage of feeling so angry that he was so vulnerable in front of me so often, so emotionally dependant on me for a while, that he put some social distance between us by slagging me off to my other friends, which drove them further away from me, and I think one even drew the conclusion that I was making it up as 'he was fine when he talked to her, funny how he only blacks out around you'.
Can only wait to find out what the future holds. He's in a good place now, but I'm so scared he'll go downhill over the summer.
