After living for 27 years with an alcoholic and drug addict husband, a few months ago, one courageous woman took the big step to leave that toxic relationship and start afresh. She spoke to Adriana Bishop about her difficult life so far and how she wants others to take courage from her experience because “there is always light at the end of a dark tunnel”.

“I don’t want people to feel sorry for me,” begins *Charly as we sit in a sunny corner on the rooftop of the shop where she is currently employed. I confess that rather than pitying her, I am full of admiration for her strength in the face of a lifetime of adversity.

Charly is just a year older than I am, and for a while, we even attended the same Church school, and yet our lives could not have panned out more differently.

As children, little were we aware of the backgrounds of our schoolmates. The girls dressed in the same uniform were just class companions, who we shared laughs, frustrations, pencils and homework with.

No one explained to us why the girl with curly blond hair was only one of two Maltese boarding at our day school. We could never have guessed the turmoil she was experiencing within her family while we happily bobbed along to our contented homes, leading normal lives.

The 45-year-old woman I see before me today has lived all her life in the midst of family strife and yet she exudes an infectious warmth and positivity from the moment I meet her. She greets me with the loveliest of smiles even though there is hardly anything to smile about in her complex life.

From a childhood marred by her mother’s mental illness to a marriage afflicted by addiction, Charly has experienced more than enough to write volumes about the subject.

Rather than wallow in self-pity and depression, however, she is determined to start afresh and, most importantly, she wants to try to shatter the stigma and taboo surrounding addiction and mental illness.

Having said that, she is still a little bit hesitant about shattering those taboos completely as she mulls over whether or not to use her real name in this article. We decide not as she wishes to safeguard her son’s privacy.

Taboos, in reality, are harder to break than anyone can imagine, perhaps even more so in a small community. Speaking out helps, not just as a cathartic exercise for the victim, but also for others who may be going through similar situations but are too afraid to speak up themselves or ask for help. This is Charly’s story; her way of telling others that they are not alone.

“I have been through a lot in my life, but I am still afloat and I still think that life is beautiful. There is always something worth living for,” she tells me via e-mail as we organise our meeting. Once I had heard her story, her words took on new meaning, almost like a mantra for dark days.

“I just want to tell my story to help others who are experiencing the same problems I went through so that they won’t give up. I want to raise awareness about mental illness. This isn’t something to be ashamed of. I also want people to understand that addiction is an illness. Our society doesn’t really understand this, and we don’t know how to handle such people,” she adds.

Charly’s childhood was rocked by her mother’s mental illness. She would later be diagnosed with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, and today, she is at Mount Carmel, but 40 years ago, such definitions were yet to be fully understood. Despite the fact that Charly had several relatives around her, when her parents separated, she was sent to board at a Church school as no one wanted to take her in.

“My mother’s family didn’t understand or accept her condition, so initially, she was not given the treatment she required. She became uncontrollable,” said Charly as she recounted the long list of distressing incidents she was subjected to as a result of her mother’s illness.

“My mother used to give me sleeping pills… She would start selling everything so we couldn’t keep my Confirmation presents at home, otherwise she would have sold them too, to buy drugs. She used to either disappear or hibernate and sleep for ages. Sometimes, she would cook enough food to last a month and would expect you to eat it even if it had grown mouldy.”

Yes, I am a bit down about the fact that this will be the first Christmas without my husband. I wish I could close my eyes, and when I open them, it would be the new year already. but I have to take it day by day

Boarding at the Church school brought some stability to an otherwise erratic existence, but that didn’t last long. As her parents went through court proceedings to formalise their separation, it was recommended to Charly that she should at least try to live with one of them, so she was sent to her father’s new home.

“He had a new partner and I was like Cinderella at home. I had a very bad relationship with my stepmother and I raised my stepsister all by myself. One day, my stepmother simply upped sticks and left Malta for her native England, taking my sister with her. It all happened out of the blue. I was left all on my own at home because my father immediately met someone else.”

So, when Paul* came into Charly’s life, he was “like a knight in shining armour. He was the only one who believed me when I told him what my stepmother used to do to me. He saved me from all that mess”.

Charly had first met Paul at the age of 14, but then didn’t see him again for another four years. Little did she know that during that time he had been in rehab for drug abuse. When they met again, Paul quickly moved in with Charly.

At the age of 18, Charly was engaged to him, and by 20, they were married.

But the knight in shining armour needed rescuing himself and the fairy tale immediately turned into a nightmare that would last 27 years.

“In the 27 years we were together, he was always addicted to drugs and alcohol. There was maybe just one year spread over that whole period when he was clean. Whisky used to make him very aggressive. He was violent towards me many times, even before we were married. I should have known better even then.

“He always had a problem with money. I never knew how I could make him happy, but it was impossible if he couldn’t love himself. I tried everything: I took him to a psychiatrist, to a hypnotherapist, but if he didn’t want to change, I couldn’t do anything to help him.

“Four months ago, I decided I simply had had enough. I threw him out and changed the locks. He is now living with a friend, but he is not in rehab. I haven’t spoken to him because if I talk to him, I would take him back. He would manipulate me.”

During the years Charly and Paul were together, he was in rehab five times. Each time, he would say he wanted to stop, but his addiction was “like a demon inside him”. The ordeal took a tremendous toll on Charly and the stress caused her to develop fibromyalgia and insomnia. There were financial repercussions too as debts spiralled out of control leading to court marshalls repossessing most of their stuff.

“I never knew where he was. He would disappear for the entire night and the police wouldn’t help because a person has to be missing for 24 hours before they launch a search. He once fell asleep in a nightclub and they had locked him in. He woke up in the empty club and called me in tears asking me to help him,” continues Charly.

“Addiction is an illness. Deep down, I know Paul is a good person, but addiction is uncontrollable. I thought he would change. People like Paul make you believe they will change. They are manipulative and toxic. They make you feel like you are the problem not them. Your confidence disappears. I was living like a robot.

“I was always the last person to know what was going on. When he took cocaine, I never realised. When he had an affair, I never knew. He would take the urine test at home, but would swap it, so it wouldn’t show drug-positive. He’s been gone for four months now, but I still wait up for him.

“At least out of a bad marriage I got my wonderful son, but it has been very traumatic for him. Paul used to forget to pick him up from school, for example, and leave him stranded. Once my son and Paul started fighting because the boy was standing up for me. My son has seen his father in court and in and out of rehab.

“Paul’s family have disowned us as they used to think I was an accomplice with my husband. My son is now 20 years old. He loves his father and wants me to toughen up. He is a very strong person and very patient. He is now at university and has a close-knit community around him that gives him a lot of support.

“I forgive my husband, but I cannot forget. No, I don’t hate him. He’s the father of my child. I pray to forget. I wish to find happiness. It was very difficult to leave him. I always believed he would change. I am angry with God at the moment. What upsets me most is that he was never strong enough to change at least for his son’s sake.”

Earlier this year, Charly started a new job in a retail outlet that gave her the confidence boost she needed to turn her life around and start afresh. “I felt strong enough to say ‘enough’. I am worth more than this.”

As Christmas looms and the sun sets on another turbulent year, Charly is hopeful that, this time, it really will be a new start for her in 2019. “I have always spent every Christmas in a daze as this time of year is the worst for an addict and also for someone like my mum. It’s a good thing I am very busy throughout December at work, so I won’t really have time to be so alone during the Christmas period.

“But yes, I am a bit down about the fact that this will be the first Christmas without my husband. I wish I could close my eyes, and when I open them, it would be the New Year already. But I have to take it day by day.

“What I am looking for in 2019 is peace, love and serenity. I hope for the gift of more forgiveness and to forget what has happened and move on.”

*Names have been changed to protect the persons’ identity.

Charly is especially grateful for the help she received from Oasi Foundation in Gozo [www.oasi.org.mt]. If you have been affected by any of the issues raised in the article, contact Caritas [www.caritasmalta.org]; Sedqa on the national support helpline 179; Marigold Foundation [www.marigold.org.mt]; or Richmond Foundation [www.richmond.org.mt].

This article first appeared in Pink magazine.