So, the SU lost his job. To quote Forrest Gump: "And that's all I gots to say 'bout that."
We went back to Last Hometown for Monkey's 8th birthday as the guests of honor (we were the special invites of the birthday boy). The weekend was custom made by God for the SU. So much love, so much for him to see of all the kingdom work he did. Loved on non-stop by an 8-year-old who says things like "you make my day better". We put out an FB notice saying we'd be at a restaurant Saturday night if anyone wanted to come by and see us and *twenty* people showed up and loved on him. The Sunday sermon was tailor made for him.
And...now we're back. He has been drunk every day this week when I've come home from work. I looked in the hot water heater cabinet today and found two empty two-liter bottles of vodka, one empty bottle of Irish whiskey and one bottle with maybe a quarter left. Well, that explains that. When I came home today, the SU could barely focus but managed to pull off his wedding ring and say, "You want this? Yes or no?"
To what better be to my credit, I did not call him Señor Drunkypants to his face but just said, "My answer to you is what it always has been. I want to stay married to you. But to do that, you have to follow AA's step 1 and commit to recovery."
He's too drunk to be coherent enough to respond.
I am at the point now that I am asking God if I can go. I've told him that I've tried to follow his will and I'm still trying so the "yes" or "no" needs to be HUGE. Like, completely unmistakeable. 'Cause I'm dense like that. I don't want to. This is the absolute worst pain of my life. I have always MEANT it when I call him the love of my life. I have spent almost a quarter century with him and the thought this might be over is frightening and heart-breaking. But I cannot take the emotional, mental and verbal abuse much more. I cannot live like this indefinitely.
Part of me is trying my hardest not to be angry at God that things haven't changed. I said to my friend that I really don't want the whole point of this exercise to have been just to change *me*. That's going to be a very hard pill to swallow. And I'm crying more now than I ever have in my life, I think. I cry on the way to work. I cry on the way home. I cry alone in bed at night. I'm crying while I type this. This just sucks so hard. I wish I could be more eloquent about it but I don't think there are words that can adequately describe the potential end of what has been a HUGE portion of my life.
I know God can still pull this out. I know he can and it is my fervent hope and prayer that he will. But it's really hard right now to look down the end of the tunnel and not envision the light there as the oncoming train.
31 January 2014
21 January 2014
Lessons from the Alcoholic
Be forewarned. I feel like this is one of the whiniest entries I've ever written. I'm angry and bitter and just...up to HERE with everything. And yeah, slight profanity but, hey, it's toned down from what I was thinking...
I have learned many different things over the past few years of struggling with the Spousal Unit's alcoholism. Some of the are things I wish I never would have learned. Some of them are things I could not have learned without walking through this. Some days I just want to stop learning and some days I'm grateful for what I've learned.
In this blog, I've tried to be honest about the ups and downs, the failures and successes and the times I've just wanted to pack it in. My edges feel frayed lately and I've found myself in the car on the way to work yelling at God, "Why me? Why do I get to do this? What makes him so special that he gets to hurt everyone else but, according to him, no one's pain - including mine - comes close to his?"
No answer. But no lightning bolt, either, so I'll call it a win. So, in no particular order...things I have learned include the following:
1. Alcoholics lie. They lie at the drop of a hat. They lie to your face. Yet he insists that he's truthful and responsible in other areas so what's my problem?
2. I do not remember how my husband acts as a sober individual.
3. I find the smell of vodka repulsive. I find the fact it oozes from his pores some nights disgusting.
4. I now have an entire list of behaviors that I use to verify his drinking and his lying to me about it. I call it my Sixth Sense of Drunk 'cause I see drunk people.
5. I know exactly how long it takes him to get home. If he is late, he has either stopped in a parking lot to guzzle vodka first or is stopping at the package store to bring home a gigantic bottle.
6. My formerly responsible, God-serving husband will now f*** you over at the drop of a hat and tell you how angry he is at God. Ad infinitum. Ad nauseum.
7. I have become a very different person than I might have been. This is both good and bad because I would not have the relationship with God that I have without going through all this but, at the same time, I'd rather have the relationship I have now with God without all the pain that accompanies it.
8. If I leave the house for any length of time, it is almost a Pavlovian instinct for him to run to the liquor store, buy vodka and slam it down before I get home - while hiding several bottles for good measure.
9. He has no "rock bottom" that I can discern. He drank while taking Ambien. He drinks despite having a gastric bypass. And if being involuntarily committed to the nuthouse and asked about your intent to harm yourself doesn't do it, I don't know what will.
10. Driving while drinking is apparently okay. Who knew?
11. It has taken me a LONG time to separate out the fact he will not stop drinking from whether or not he loves me. It is not that black and white.
12. He is selfish. He is also carrying around pain and anger for decades that he refuses to let go of. He will not talk to the one person who can help him with that. And it saddens me that he chooses to hold on to his anger and bitterness and let it wreak havoc.
12a. I get to hear long, long diatribes about everything that goes on in his life but I can't even remember the last time he asked me about my day, my job or anything that involves how I think or feel.
13. I hate crying yet I have done it more over the past few years than I have in my entire life, I think. And I ugly cry.
14. Thank God he has given me people that don't mind if I ugly cry around them.
15. However, I've even started censoring what I say or don't say to those people because I am tired of being "the wife of the alcoholic".
16. If I have not personally talked to you about what is going on, please do not come up and offer me condolences or what you may view as support. I will back away from you so fast it will make your head spin because we do not have that type of relationship and I am left wondering how you know versus feeling any type of comfort.
I'm tired. I'm tired of trying and I'm tired of God telling me to be here. Because, yeah, getting bitchslapped on nearly a daily basis is really awesome. Last night was...not only did he come home drunk but got upset and started cursing at me when I asked if he'd been drinking. Then he made a point of going and pulling out the booze he had hidden in his car and bringing it into the house. Then I stumbled (literally) over a bottle he'd hidden under his recliner.
At that point, I'd just had it. Toast. Burnt toast. I told him that he was released from any request of mine to be honest and just bring the damn bottle(s) in the house because it was now painfully obvious to me that he had absolutely no intention of ever actually doing that so...more fool me. I also said that I would no longer depend on him for any of my emotional needs so he is free from that burden as well. Go ahead. Drink. You will anyway.
I really hate my life. I really hate that God says, no, stick around and be Jesus to him. I hate being in pain every single day. I hate having to put on a bright, happy face to the world I hate that the person I love continues to kill himself and make me watch.
I'm so tired.
I have learned many different things over the past few years of struggling with the Spousal Unit's alcoholism. Some of the are things I wish I never would have learned. Some of them are things I could not have learned without walking through this. Some days I just want to stop learning and some days I'm grateful for what I've learned.
In this blog, I've tried to be honest about the ups and downs, the failures and successes and the times I've just wanted to pack it in. My edges feel frayed lately and I've found myself in the car on the way to work yelling at God, "Why me? Why do I get to do this? What makes him so special that he gets to hurt everyone else but, according to him, no one's pain - including mine - comes close to his?"
No answer. But no lightning bolt, either, so I'll call it a win. So, in no particular order...things I have learned include the following:
1. Alcoholics lie. They lie at the drop of a hat. They lie to your face. Yet he insists that he's truthful and responsible in other areas so what's my problem?
2. I do not remember how my husband acts as a sober individual.
3. I find the smell of vodka repulsive. I find the fact it oozes from his pores some nights disgusting.
4. I now have an entire list of behaviors that I use to verify his drinking and his lying to me about it. I call it my Sixth Sense of Drunk 'cause I see drunk people.
5. I know exactly how long it takes him to get home. If he is late, he has either stopped in a parking lot to guzzle vodka first or is stopping at the package store to bring home a gigantic bottle.
6. My formerly responsible, God-serving husband will now f*** you over at the drop of a hat and tell you how angry he is at God. Ad infinitum. Ad nauseum.
7. I have become a very different person than I might have been. This is both good and bad because I would not have the relationship with God that I have without going through all this but, at the same time, I'd rather have the relationship I have now with God without all the pain that accompanies it.
8. If I leave the house for any length of time, it is almost a Pavlovian instinct for him to run to the liquor store, buy vodka and slam it down before I get home - while hiding several bottles for good measure.
9. He has no "rock bottom" that I can discern. He drank while taking Ambien. He drinks despite having a gastric bypass. And if being involuntarily committed to the nuthouse and asked about your intent to harm yourself doesn't do it, I don't know what will.
10. Driving while drinking is apparently okay. Who knew?
11. It has taken me a LONG time to separate out the fact he will not stop drinking from whether or not he loves me. It is not that black and white.
12. He is selfish. He is also carrying around pain and anger for decades that he refuses to let go of. He will not talk to the one person who can help him with that. And it saddens me that he chooses to hold on to his anger and bitterness and let it wreak havoc.
12a. I get to hear long, long diatribes about everything that goes on in his life but I can't even remember the last time he asked me about my day, my job or anything that involves how I think or feel.
13. I hate crying yet I have done it more over the past few years than I have in my entire life, I think. And I ugly cry.
14. Thank God he has given me people that don't mind if I ugly cry around them.
15. However, I've even started censoring what I say or don't say to those people because I am tired of being "the wife of the alcoholic".
16. If I have not personally talked to you about what is going on, please do not come up and offer me condolences or what you may view as support. I will back away from you so fast it will make your head spin because we do not have that type of relationship and I am left wondering how you know versus feeling any type of comfort.
I'm tired. I'm tired of trying and I'm tired of God telling me to be here. Because, yeah, getting bitchslapped on nearly a daily basis is really awesome. Last night was...not only did he come home drunk but got upset and started cursing at me when I asked if he'd been drinking. Then he made a point of going and pulling out the booze he had hidden in his car and bringing it into the house. Then I stumbled (literally) over a bottle he'd hidden under his recliner.
At that point, I'd just had it. Toast. Burnt toast. I told him that he was released from any request of mine to be honest and just bring the damn bottle(s) in the house because it was now painfully obvious to me that he had absolutely no intention of ever actually doing that so...more fool me. I also said that I would no longer depend on him for any of my emotional needs so he is free from that burden as well. Go ahead. Drink. You will anyway.
I really hate my life. I really hate that God says, no, stick around and be Jesus to him. I hate being in pain every single day. I hate having to put on a bright, happy face to the world I hate that the person I love continues to kill himself and make me watch.
I'm so tired.
03 January 2014
One of these days is just like a lot of other ones
Having one of those days where I wish God would (a) clue me in and (b) tell me that it's going to be okay.
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