This is the third in a series of posts that starts here.
For years I hid what I went through as a wife of an alcoholic. I hid it from my friends and my family. They could always tell when something was wrong, but I was good at convincing them that everything was okay, that I was okay. I would pray that one day I would find the strength and courage to leave, but I feared that I wouldn’t be able to do it for “life” by myself.
I learned how to walk on egg shells and choose my words wisely so conversations with my husband wouldn’t lead to a fight. Those moments were always the worst; before my eyes he would transform into a different person. He would yell, swear, repeating himself over and over again. If I left the room he would follow, if I locked myself in the bathroom he would scream at me through the door. He knew what buttons to push and what words to say to hurt me the most. He wouldn’t stop until he grew tired. This was the same behavior with his drinking. He would hide it everywhere. I would find mini liquor bottles in the sock drawers, closets, jacket pockets; anywhere he thought he could hide it from me. He would drink until he fell asleep. I grew to have a lot of anger and resentment toward him. I knew that our girls deserved better and that I deserved better.
We worked opposite shifts from one another. He would work days and I would work nights. We would see each other for a few minutes and exchange a quick hello and goodbye before I would take off for work. I would call him every night on my way home and hold my breath until he answered. If he answered, I could tell by the sound of his voice how much he had been drinking. If he didn’t answer, I knew there was a good chance he was passed out and there was no way of knowing what to expect when I got home. The drive would seem like an eternity, even though I would speed most of the way home.
There was one night in particular that I will never forget... I called as I left work like usual, he didn’t answer. The whole way home I had an overwhelming feeling in my gut, I could tell something was not right. I unlocked the door and there he was on the couch. Passed out with a brown paper bag full of mini liquor bottles, empty ones scattered all over the coffee table and the floor. Next to him was our 3 month old daughter crying hysterically in her bassinet with a blanket over her face. Our 4 year old was next to her in a tired daze watching some stupid action movie. My heart completely sank and shattered that night. I bawled as I held my girls, thankful they were okay. I would never forgive myself if something happened to my children under his supervision.
So back to HE… I waited for you to respond. Watching those little Facebook messenger bubbles pop up and down to let me know you were typing. After what seemed like minutes, you responded “sure”. We planned to meet a few days later at a coffee shop half way between each of our places. A part of me felt wrong meeting with another man and not telling my husband, but there was also a part of me that knew you could help me better understand the mind and actions of an alcoholic. I needed to understand.
That morning when I arrived (late as per my usual) you were already there, sitting at a small table outside in the sun, coffee in hand. I was a bit nervous since this was the first time we had really communicated outside of work and our daily jokes. But I instantly felt calm once I sat down across from you. I explained a little bit about my situation, you shared with me your experiences, and we drank coffee. What seemed to feel like minutes was hours. Shortly after our coffee meeting you posted an entry on your blog. That entry would forever change my life. The title, Love Your Life and at the end of it you wrote a paragraph directed to she:
If everything in your life isn’t the best it possibly can be, if something or somebody is holding you back from being the happiest you have ever been, if you can’t be in the moment wherever you are because your thoughts are taken away to something darker, then something needs to change. And every time, deep down, we know what that change needs to be. YOU have the power within you to shake things up and even though stuffs might quiver awhile afterwards, eventually you will find happiness when the toxic thing is removed from your life. Every day you have one less day on this planet and you cannot afford to cry and worry when there is so much out there to experience. Never give up. Never stop trying to find what makes you live inside, because if you do then you truly die.
I knew immediately after reading this that I needed to make a change in my life. I could no longer wait for things to change and get better; I had to do something about it! I made the decision that moment to tell my husband I didn’t love him anymore.
To be continued…
For years I hid what I went through as a wife of an alcoholic. I hid it from my friends and my family. They could always tell when something was wrong, but I was good at convincing them that everything was okay, that I was okay. I would pray that one day I would find the strength and courage to leave, but I feared that I wouldn’t be able to do it for “life” by myself.
I learned how to walk on egg shells and choose my words wisely so conversations with my husband wouldn’t lead to a fight. Those moments were always the worst; before my eyes he would transform into a different person. He would yell, swear, repeating himself over and over again. If I left the room he would follow, if I locked myself in the bathroom he would scream at me through the door. He knew what buttons to push and what words to say to hurt me the most. He wouldn’t stop until he grew tired. This was the same behavior with his drinking. He would hide it everywhere. I would find mini liquor bottles in the sock drawers, closets, jacket pockets; anywhere he thought he could hide it from me. He would drink until he fell asleep. I grew to have a lot of anger and resentment toward him. I knew that our girls deserved better and that I deserved better.
We worked opposite shifts from one another. He would work days and I would work nights. We would see each other for a few minutes and exchange a quick hello and goodbye before I would take off for work. I would call him every night on my way home and hold my breath until he answered. If he answered, I could tell by the sound of his voice how much he had been drinking. If he didn’t answer, I knew there was a good chance he was passed out and there was no way of knowing what to expect when I got home. The drive would seem like an eternity, even though I would speed most of the way home.
There was one night in particular that I will never forget... I called as I left work like usual, he didn’t answer. The whole way home I had an overwhelming feeling in my gut, I could tell something was not right. I unlocked the door and there he was on the couch. Passed out with a brown paper bag full of mini liquor bottles, empty ones scattered all over the coffee table and the floor. Next to him was our 3 month old daughter crying hysterically in her bassinet with a blanket over her face. Our 4 year old was next to her in a tired daze watching some stupid action movie. My heart completely sank and shattered that night. I bawled as I held my girls, thankful they were okay. I would never forgive myself if something happened to my children under his supervision.
So back to HE… I waited for you to respond. Watching those little Facebook messenger bubbles pop up and down to let me know you were typing. After what seemed like minutes, you responded “sure”. We planned to meet a few days later at a coffee shop half way between each of our places. A part of me felt wrong meeting with another man and not telling my husband, but there was also a part of me that knew you could help me better understand the mind and actions of an alcoholic. I needed to understand.
That morning when I arrived (late as per my usual) you were already there, sitting at a small table outside in the sun, coffee in hand. I was a bit nervous since this was the first time we had really communicated outside of work and our daily jokes. But I instantly felt calm once I sat down across from you. I explained a little bit about my situation, you shared with me your experiences, and we drank coffee. What seemed to feel like minutes was hours. Shortly after our coffee meeting you posted an entry on your blog. That entry would forever change my life. The title, Love Your Life and at the end of it you wrote a paragraph directed to she:
If everything in your life isn’t the best it possibly can be, if something or somebody is holding you back from being the happiest you have ever been, if you can’t be in the moment wherever you are because your thoughts are taken away to something darker, then something needs to change. And every time, deep down, we know what that change needs to be. YOU have the power within you to shake things up and even though stuffs might quiver awhile afterwards, eventually you will find happiness when the toxic thing is removed from your life. Every day you have one less day on this planet and you cannot afford to cry and worry when there is so much out there to experience. Never give up. Never stop trying to find what makes you live inside, because if you do then you truly die.
I knew immediately after reading this that I needed to make a change in my life. I could no longer wait for things to change and get better; I had to do something about it! I made the decision that moment to tell my husband I didn’t love him anymore.
To be continued…
