*Name has been changed.
Tanner* was an incredible partner in so many ways. He was honest, easy-going, communicative, and thoughtful. He helped around the house without being asked. He frequently complimented my wisdom, kindness, and beauty. He listened with an open heart and mind. He held impeccable space for me as we journeyed through sacred intimacy. And he regularly gifted me with unsurpassed presence (which you can read about here: https://healingwithwords.org/penetration-beyond-love-making/).
Tanner was a phenomenal partner.
He also drank.
I knew when we first met that he’d recently been charged with a DUI, but I’d also known several of my friends to get DUIs over the years. Tanner’s drinking habits didn’t seem very different from mainstream American culture. He enjoyed a couple drinks after work to wind down, and he would party on the weekends sometimes. Sounded like every person I went to graduate school with, including professors.
Granted, I don’t drink anymore; I haven’t drank in years. Tanner admired that about me, and he never asked me to drink with him. He rarely drank when we hung out together, and since he was taking diversion classes as part of his probation and had to pass a urine test every two weeks, he only drank once or twice a week.
We went to a concert together once, and Tanner ordered at least five rounds of whiskey with beer backs (that’s over ten drinks)–but he handled himself so well, you couldn’t even tell he was tipsy. Then, he did the same thing at another event.
One weekend, we had made plans to meet the next day at noon. Tanner went out drinking with his friends that night, in a town about an hour away. He slept through the time we were supposed to meet. When he finally arrived at my house later that evening, I calmly expressed how I want a partner who honors his word. I told him that when I make a promise, I do my best to keep it, and I expect the same from my partner. I pointed out that his free-will decisions resulted in his inability to keep our appointment.
“Tanner, I love you and I forgive you, but if a situation similar to this happens again–if you don’t follow through on a promise because of decisions you make that are completely within your control–I’m going to take space.”
The boundary had been set.
A few weeks later, Tanner was venting to me about people getting laid off at his workplace, and consequently, he was feeling very stressed about his job security. He came over with a bottle of whiskey that night, apologizing to me, saying he just needed to calm down. I felt a tightness in my gut. I asked him to wait a little longer–to try feeling his feelings. He said he’d felt them all day, but to me, it seemed like he merely felt the discomfort of trying to escape them. He drank half the bottle before bed, and in the morning, blew dirty into his car’s breathalyzer. As a result, his diversion classes were extended out for several more weeks, and he felt ashamed.
When I moved out of state, Tanner planned to visit me. After buying airline tickets, he told me that he wasn’t fond of flying and hadn’t flown since he was a child. The day of his trip, he texted me that he’d gotten to the airport and was going to have a drink to calm his nerves. Well, he ended up getting blackout drunk and almost missed his layover. When I found him at baggage claim, he reeked so strongly of alcohol that I was shocked they’d even let him on the plane. I had never witnessed Tanner noticeably intoxicated, nevermind sloshed. Anxiety overwhelmed me as I helped him balance his stumbling gait. On the drive home, I tried expressing my concern, but he shut down like a pouting child, so I gave up and put him to bed.
In the morning, my mind reeled and my heart ached, so I wrote out my feelings and shared them with Tanner as soon as he woke up. I communicated that I noticed a pattern of him drinking too much when he felt overwhelmed. I told him that if he wanted to dissolve old patterns and step into a new way of being, I was happy to support him, but if he wanted to continue this toxic cycle, I couldn’t be by his side. Perhaps we would do better to love each other from afar. He felt extremely embarrassed and disappointed in himself. I told him that he didn’t need to give me an answer in the moment–I just needed to let him know where I stood. I kissed his face and held him close, feeling a few solemn tears burn my cheeks.
We ended up having a really beautiful week together, and Tanner expressed to me during his visit that he wanted to see how long he could go without drinking, just to see what would come up for him. I told him that sounded like a wonderful idea and that I was proud of him.
“But why now?” I asked.
“Well, I finally have a reason,” he responded, looking at me sweetly.
I smiled sadly.
“Tanner, my love, the reason is you.”
After Tanner returned home (on a bus instead of a plane), we continued our long-distance relationship and called each other every couple days. Tanner would update me on his sobriety and I would exchange encouraging words. At some point, my phone had broken, and the new one wouldn’t arrive in the mail for a week, so Tanner and I emailed each other instead. He sent me a message, saying that he’d received news of more firings at his workplace, and he was not in a good headspace. Nevertheless, he wanted to try Skype-ing at 7pm the next evening, so we scheduled our video date.
I was so excited to see his face after communicating via email for several days, that the clock couldn’t move fast enough. Finally, 7pm rolled around, and I sat in front of my computer. I didn’t see Tanner on Skype. I sent him multiple emails. No response. I learned how to make phone calls from my computer, and I dialed his number several times. No answer. I waited for an hour. Nothing. It was not like Tanner to miss things.
Unless he was drinking.
I decided to go to bed, feeling very sad. I didn’t have many thoughts swirling through my mind; I just cried from the tightness in my chest and the ache in my belly. Luckily, sleep came quickly.
In the morning, I received an email from my roommates who were out of town. They said they had received multiple concerning phone calls from Tanner last night. Oh no, I thought.
I called my friends and they verified that Tanner had been terribly intoxicated over the phone, to the point where they barely recognized his voice. He had drunk dialed them repeatedly, trying to reach someone else. I told them that Tanner had recently confided in me that he felt stressed about work, so I wasn’t surprised. I apologized to my friends and told them I’d message him right away.
I sobbed heavily as I wrote. Below is an excerpt from the actual email I sent to Tanner:
“Tanner, there’s been a history of you not being able to stop yourself from getting blackout drunk when you’re feeling overwhelmed…I don’t feel comfortable dating you if you cannot find other healthier ways to cope with the challenges of life…I love you so dearly, but I can’t be in relationship with someone who is continuing this self-sabotaging pattern.
Remember when you missed our date the first time? I told you that if something like that happened again, I’d need to take space…I need to honor my word. Otherwise, I will get caught in a toxic pattern with you, and that doesn’t serve either of us.
Please understand that this is really hard for me… You opened up my heart in more ways than you will ever know, and you honored me for the goddess I am. I am eternally grateful for all the gifts you’ve given me. Thank you for walking with me.”
It was the first time in my life, within a romantic relationship, that I actually followed through on a boundary, immediately.
My mind protested, It’s not like he’s hurting you! He treats you so well in every other way. He just missed a Skype date–that’s not a big deal.
But I knew better.
In our final phone call, Tanner apologized profusely and I cried, thanking him for the many wonderful aspects of our relationship. I repeatedly told him what a beautiful soul he was.
“Well, I’m going to have to disagree with you there,” he rebutted. “I’m a f*cking mess.”
My heart broke at his self-shame.
We stayed on the phone in silence for 45 minutes. Eventually, we both said I love you and hung up.
I thought honoring boundaries immediately would be easier than dragging out a situation. I thought I’d feel triumphant, reveling in my self-empowerment. I thought the Universe would shower me with golden stars–but I just felt disconsolate.
It’s been over a month since Tanner and I have separated, and I think about him every day. We haven’t spoken since that last phone call, and really, there’s no reason to, since we said all that needs to be said. Yet, I feel sad and miss him. Not as much as directly after the break up–but still, I do.
I suppose even the soul’s most aligned choices can come with pain or heartache. Perhaps the sadness I’m feeling is from recognizing that we cannot walk another’s path for them. All we can do is advocate for our needs and do our best to create a nurturing environment for ourselves.
I am still in my grieving process, and that’s okay. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m failing at this by not feeling good. I am the space through which all emotions flow, loving and welcoming them all–even if I don’t like the experience. I envision myself facing sadness with open arms, whispering, “Welcome home to the eternal light of my soul; I love you.” I see myself cradling my inner child, crooning, “I am so sorry you’re hurting. Take all the time you need; I am here for you.”
May we have the courage to honor boundaries within all our relationships, and may we be blessed with grace and comfort in the process. I am with you, always.
With all my love,
Gaia Sophia
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