Life with an Alcoholic . . .

Bitch.  Witch bitch.  Undesirable.  Unloved.  Those are all words he used to describe me in a drunken tirade today.  Nothing new about that.  I’ve heard it all before.  Many times.  Too many times.  Just about every day lately.  This person who said two years ago that God healed his alcoholism.  I believe He did.  But he let Satan back into his life.  He wants to speak to God.  He tells me that God tells him I’m a bitch and a rotten, nasty person.  Fortunately for me, I know my God is a loving God.  That’s not who is speaking to him.  It’s Satan.   

He went to the dump this morning (we live in the middle of nowhere and have to take our garbage to the dump, which is only open Saturday mornings) and was supposed to get sawdust for the chicken coop.  Instead, he stopped somewhere to get his 16 oz. 8% alcohol Steel Reserve that he likes so much because it gets him wasted really fast, especially when he drinks a whole can in two or three gulps then drives around a while, while drinking it so he can come home and pretend he’s sober.  But I’m just a witch bitch.  Against my better judgment, I did follow him outside earlier, and of course, he was out there trying to hide his drinking.  I assume it was the second or third can.  I don’t know for sure.  I don’t know where he got the money, but it wasn’t from me.  I didn’t yell.  I didn’t scream.  All I did was ask how many more he had hidden so I knew how drunk and nasty he was going to get.  He pretended to not know what I was talking about and said he wasn’t drunk. 

I joined Al-Anon earlier this week and I’ve already changed.  I refuse to let him push my buttons any more.  I can’t take it.  He’s either been sick or drunk for almost our entire 28 year marriage.  I’m done being his verbal punching bag.  I’m not going to let it bother me.  When he started in today, MercyMe and Third Day came to my rescue, along with a great pair of headphones that drowned out his nastiness.  When I wasn’t responding to his taunts, he sat in my chair at the table, put his foot up on the table and watched me taking the lights off the Christmas tree.   He just sat there and watched.  I don’t know if he tried talking to me, because Third Day was telling me to trust in Jesus and MercyMe was telling me to listen to God speak.

He finally got bored, so went to finish mopping the kitchen floor.  According to him, he was doing MY work because I was too lazy to do it.  Mind you, I’ve been sick all week and still managed to work 9 hours every day.  I even worked 6 hours this morning.  But he has to do MY work because I’m not doing it and that’s just not right.  At one point, because I had my headphones on and wasn’t paying attention to him, he took one of the dogs’ toys and threw it at me, hitting me in the shoulder.  I turned around, took my headphones off and he said “I love you.”  I put my headphones back on and ignored him.  He’s passed out in his office at the moment, so I have blissful silence for now.  At least until he wakes up.   He sleeps in his office.  I keep my bedroom door locked at night.  I don’t want him in there when he’s been drinking.  He’s not physically violent, but I don’t trust him when he’s been drinking and I don’t want him stealing money out of my purse.   Sad, but true.  It’s the life of the wife of an alcoholic. 

I stopped talking about his drinking to my friends and family a long time ago.  I’m sure they were sick of hearing about it and wondering why I stay.  I wonder that myself.  I hardly talk to anyone any more.  Classic victim of abuse.  He’s managed to alienate me from my friends without even trying.   It’s embarrassing – being married to someone so out of control.   He says I don’t have any friends because I’m a witch bitch.  He says my family (sisters and brother) don’t want to have anything to do with me because I’m a witch bitch.  According to him, my children don’t like me and want nothing to do with me.  Today, he told me that my (our) grandchildren will not want to have anything to do with me because I’m such a witch bitch and that I’m mean, like my own grandmother was.  The grandchildren will run to him and say they’re scared of me.  He says his family doesn’t like me because I’m a witch bitch.  He told me that his sister has never liked me (due to the stupid drugs we did way back when we were first together, that were of course all my fault).  I had no idea his sister never liked me.  When we were separated and he got his pacemaker in Milwaukee, she refused to tell me anything that was happening with him.  So I guess it’s true.  I’m sure he told her the same kinds of horrific stories about me that he told everyone else.  Of course, the whole “witch bitch” thing, but I’m controlling, and nasty, and every other horrible thing you can think of.  Once he started to sober up, he never bothered to tell anyone that that was his drunkenness talking.  So I’m guessing that they all believe his horrible stories.  I wonder if they ever wonder why he came back to me, begging me to let him come back home.  If they really believe all those nasty stories, then they are in as much denial as he is.   

He is what is called a “high functioning” alcoholic.  He doesn’t drink when he has to go to work.  And he’s managed a lifetime of working without drinking until he’s done working.  Alcoholics are really adept at that.  They save their drinking and nastiness for the people that love them the most.  Isn’t that kind! 

The last straw was last week when I caught him in the basement drinking straight out of a bottle of vodka.  I had to wrestle it away from him.  I dumped it in the sump pump crock and he had a fit.  That was it.  I finally saw myself clearly.  I am not going to do this any more.  I can’t do this any more.  I joined Al-Anon and discovered myself.  I told him that I’m not going to hunt for his booze any more.  I’m not going to take it away from him any more.  I’m not going to make his problem my problem any more.  With his heart issues, if he had drunk that whole bottle, he’d probably be dead.  There’s nothing I can do to stop him.  If he wants to drink, he is going to drink.  He will find a way to drink.  The only way I can deal with it is to finally allow him be in control of his own actions instead of trying to control what I have no control over.  I have to constantly remind myself that I am powerless to try to control him.  I think I’ve finally realized that.  There is no doubt in my mind that one morning, I am going to wake up and he will not.  And I will cry.  I will cry for the hate that he allowed into his life that ultimately destroyed him 

It may seem like I’m airing “dirty laundry” but I’m not.  I’m sick of hiding.  I’m sick of being ashamed.  I have no reason to be ashamed.  I have no reason to be embarrassed.  Alcoholism is his disease, not mine.  He owns it.  Not me.  He controls it.  Not me.  My life was turned upside down this year when he was diagnosed with Esophageal Cancer in March.  I spent every minute of my paid time off going with him to appointments and making sure everything was taken care of properly.  That’s what a good wife does when her husband is diagnosed with cancer for the third time.  The insurance company spent almost half a million dollars on saving his life, and he’s trying to kill himself with  a $1.27 can of malt liquor. 

I am not a witch bitch.  I am not unlovable.  When I cry, it’s because I’m crying for what could have been.  For what should have been.  And I wonder why God decided that this is what my marriage should be.  When I see other people in happy, loving marriages, it makes me want to cry.  I watch stupid Christmas movies on TV because I want to see, no, I NEED to see, that there is hope.  Even if it’s only a stupid Christmas movie.  I need to see that things aren’t always as they seem.  That life can and does work out just the way God intends it to.  As a kid, there were times I seriously thought about suicide.  I can’t count the number of suicide notes I wrote.  I remember when we were at the Grand Canyon.  I was about 10 (I think).  As I stood there on the edge of the canyon, on the precipice, all I could think was that no one would care if I just leaned over and fell in.  I just wanted to fall in and be done.  And then, I heard my mother tell me to stand back and not be so close to the edge.  I’ve been close to the precipice many times in the years I’ve been married to him.  And I’ve managed to drag myself back.  I’ve taken my anger at him out on our children.  I’ve taken my anger at him out on myself.  I’ve taken my anger at him out on God.  I’ve been angry with everyone and for that I apologize.  I need to find happiness.  I need to find joy.  After over 30 years with him, I’ve finally come to the realization that my happiness is not dependent on anyone but myself. 

I’m tired of hiding.  This alcoholism is not MY choice.  It is HIS.  I cannot control him, and I refuse to hide any more.  My blog is probably not going to be fun to read and if you made it this far, thank you!  I find writing to be very cathartic.  And, like always, if I can help someone else who is dealing with the same thing I am dealing with, then there is a reason for me telling the world about how this insidious disease has wreaked havoc on my life and the lives of my children.  It is what it is.  Life is not all happy, happy, joy, joy.  It’s messy and it’s dirty, but we only talk about the dirt behind closed doors.  It’s time to put a stop to that and if it means that I’m the one that has to step out on that ledge, then so be it.  I trust that He will make all things right for me and has a grand plan that will make all this pain worthwhile.  I am not a bitch.  I am not a witch bitch.  I am not undesirable.  I am not unloved.  I am a beautiful and loved child of the Most High God and nothing he says will ever change that. 

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change; 
courage to change the things I can; 
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time; 
enjoying one moment at a time; 
accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; 
taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it; 
trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will; 
that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
forever in the next. 
Amen.