That seems to be my new mantra a couple nights a week.
My husband says he want to quit. But he continues to drink. He drinks from 4:30-6:30, he never drinks after dinner (well almost never) but he starts with a beer and ends with a bottle of wine. The alcohol is effecting him earlier and earlier and my patience is growing shorter and shorter. I can deal if he only has a couple glasses. It’s when he starts repeating himself or forgetting then I get pissed. I can’t help it. This is when he says he wants to join the challenge, he hates his life, etc., etc. you know the drill, we’ve all been there. When he starts in about how he needs a hug and he’s under all this stress and he’s slurring his words…my response, don’t talk to me.
Talk to me in the morning or at 3 o’clock in the afternoon about joining the challenge or the stress or the fact that the last time after 5 days sober you were bored and gave up. Talk to me then, don’t try to talk to me about quitting when your drunk.
He wants me to help him. I can support him but I can’t do it for him. He wants an ultimatum, I can’t do that, he has to stop because he wants to stop.
The crazy thing is that we are so good together during the day. He works out of the house so he’s around all the time unless traveling overseas. We do great and after 35 years I think that’s a pretty good thing. We laugh, take walks, have sex and enjoy our children and grandchildren. But once 4:30 hits, well you know. He does most of the cooking so the kitchen is definitely a trigger. I’ve volunteered to take over that task, he’s just not ready. That’s it, he’s just not ready. I get that, Lord knows I’ve been there. How many times did I tell him I was quitting, I’d only drink on weekends, yada, yada. But if you’re going to drink and get sloppy just don’t talk to me.
Then I stop and wonder, who do I think I am? I’m only 128 days sober. Who am I to judge? Who am I to be a bitch about someone else’s drinking? Then I feel sorry for him, the wolf has him. I can help him fill his toolbox. I can be in his corner. But the final battle with the beast will be his and his alone.
He is getting closer, he’s checking the blogs, he’s supports me, he wants to be the man he was 30 years ago. I’d like that too. I know men do this sober thing differently, they think differently. They don’t count days or want treats. They don’t have this whole sober sisterhood that we do.
So I started writing this being pissed and now I’m not. Damn it, I’m pathetic. Don’t talk to me!