It was now time to lance the giant purulent sore that was Mort and his addiction, and let the festering ooze out. It was either going to heal or get grotesquely infected. Time to share with our close circle of friends. This was going to be a brutal and ugly operation.
I wanted to avoid Chinese Whispers so I made sure that I found time to tell each of our friends exactly what was going on and the fact that our marriage was about to implode. It was heart-breaking to watch the emotions play out on everyone’s faces; worry, concern, sorrow and above all disbelief. There were 2 conversations in particular that had some bearing on things to come.
The first was when I called Linda, a long time and deeply revered family friend of Mort’s parents. Having no children of her own, Linda had embraced me and my girls with warmth and compassion like a doting aunt. I was hesitant about calling Morts father directly as he wasn’t in the best of health and could also be very unpredictable in his reactions to information. I decided to entrust Linda and take her lead as to how and when to share with his father. Needles to say she was devastated.
The next conversation was with Anne-Louise who had experience of her own with alcoholism and depression as she watched a family member go through it when she was young. I remember as I sat dry-eyed after telling my story that she looked at me and said, “you are putting on an incredibly brave front, but I think I see fear there as well.” I agreed that there was another emotion lurking behind my bravado, but it most certainly was not fear, it was raw acrid anger that I could taste on my tongue and feel in my pulse.
I told Mort that I had spent the weekend telling all our friends. He was livid. He was instructed to come home first thing on Sunday morning to discuss the future (or lack thereof) of our marriage. Would you like to place a wager on whether or not he showed up sober?