I told DH he had to stop drinking.
It was so hard. Not because I'm afraid of him or anything- because I didn't want it to be real.
DH's father is a functioning alcoholic. His whole family drinks a lot. He's aware, and, for our entire marriage, has been careful and aware... until recently.
I had a hard spring- been very depressed, and I'm just now really getting it together. I was no peach to live with, I know, and I've been blaming myself for DH drinking more. And more. And more.
He enters this stupor where all of his sentances trail off, and he doesn't listen to anything I say, and he is a great dad when he's sober, but he just doesn't parent if he's been drinking. We homebrew, but lately, he's just been buying PBR and chugging them down. And he can't seem to have one or two. As soon as I hear that can pop, I know that he's useless to me for the rest of the night. No converstation, no activities, no help, no sex, no nothin'. And I resent it- I become this shrill, bitching, nasty shrew and it makes me hate myself.
I've never wanted to say that he's an alcoholic. I don't even really know what that means, and I never wanted to label him. Besides, alcoholics yell, and break things, beat their wives and children. They don't go to work everyday and putter in the garden and play fetch with dog, right? Right.
Also, I didn't want to stop drinking. I have a beer when it's hot, a glass of wine with dinner maybe once a week, why should I have to stop?
Because I love DH more than I love booze, that's why. I'm done. I don't want to undermine him.
It was a rough conversation at first, but he got up and emptied all the beer in the house, and a bottle of rum that was kicking around, all of it went down the sink. And when he was done, I hugged him and cried with relief.
I don't know what the next step is, but I feel better about things now.
It was so hard. Not because I'm afraid of him or anything- because I didn't want it to be real.
DH's father is a functioning alcoholic. His whole family drinks a lot. He's aware, and, for our entire marriage, has been careful and aware... until recently.
I had a hard spring- been very depressed, and I'm just now really getting it together. I was no peach to live with, I know, and I've been blaming myself for DH drinking more. And more. And more.
He enters this stupor where all of his sentances trail off, and he doesn't listen to anything I say, and he is a great dad when he's sober, but he just doesn't parent if he's been drinking. We homebrew, but lately, he's just been buying PBR and chugging them down. And he can't seem to have one or two. As soon as I hear that can pop, I know that he's useless to me for the rest of the night. No converstation, no activities, no help, no sex, no nothin'. And I resent it- I become this shrill, bitching, nasty shrew and it makes me hate myself.
I've never wanted to say that he's an alcoholic. I don't even really know what that means, and I never wanted to label him. Besides, alcoholics yell, and break things, beat their wives and children. They don't go to work everyday and putter in the garden and play fetch with dog, right? Right.
Also, I didn't want to stop drinking. I have a beer when it's hot, a glass of wine with dinner maybe once a week, why should I have to stop?
Because I love DH more than I love booze, that's why. I'm done. I don't want to undermine him.
It was a rough conversation at first, but he got up and emptied all the beer in the house, and a bottle of rum that was kicking around, all of it went down the sink. And when he was done, I hugged him and cried with relief.
I don't know what the next step is, but I feel better about things now.
