Catching Idle Butterflies

Warmth under God�s smile

Tired of crying my eyes out and continuing to feel helpless as Dave drank himself stupid once again, I prayed hard for courage.

I played through my head everything I wanted to say, everything I needed to say. I allowed my anger and frustrations to surface. I examined them carefully, both to help me find the right words, but also to understand why I felt them.

When Dave came out of his bath and readied for bed, I sat on the bed and said everything I wanted to say.

When we started dating Dave told me, “I don’t do subtlety. If you have something to say, say it. If I piss you off, tell me. Give me the cold shoulder or mope around tells me nothing.”

I remembered those words when I said, “Dave, you’re an alcoholic.” I then told him how it broke my heart, how I had to endure alcoholism from my mother, from a previous boyfriend, and now him, and I can’t live with it any more.

Either he had to stop or I would have to separate myself from him. I didn’t want to, because I didn’t want to lose him. But I would do what I had to do.

I cried, though not so hard I couldn’t speak, and boy did my entire body shake. I was terrified, not because of what he might say or do, but because, finally, I laid my heart bare. That’s a frightening thing, especially when I didn’t know how the man who held my heart in his hand would treat it.

Dave said nothing, but when I finished, he held out his hand to me. I then lay next to him and wept, but more out of relief than anything else.

The ball is in his court, and will be for quite a while.

That happened the night I wrote the previous entry (the 29th).

Yesterday he didn’t drink. He was quite the grump, but I understood that. He had to deal with not depending upon alcohol to relax or make him happy for the first time in I don’t even know how long. Plus, he’s enduring a physical addiction as well as a mental one. His body is used to alcoholic intake, and now suddenly being denied it, his mind and body don’t know what to do.

If he continues to abstain, these next few weeks will not be easy as his body goes through detox. After that, it’s more of a mental battle, but no less difficult to endure. I hope Dave will find others, be it a counselor, AA, or some other group, to lean on when he weakens.

Alcoholics remain so for the rest of their days. They have to decide each day, sometimes each hour to not take a drink. My mom being sober for over twenty years says she still thinks about it almost every day.

As the spouse of an alcoholic, I too must take this one day at a time. One day of sobriety is just that. One day. Tomorrow may hold something different, and I must be prepared for it.

How do I prepare? To start, by admitting I also need help.

I grew up in a family where you not so much dealt with your problems, but either ignored them or hid them away. Counseling is seen as a weakness, as though that person is mentally deficient. If I am to retain my sanity and emotional equilibrium I need to have some place to turn, some place neutral, yet helpful.

My work’s heath insurance will pay for up to three counseling sessions called a “Mental Health Benefit.” Until now, I never dreamed I would use it. After crying for three days straight, even at work, and still having the urge this morning is a sure sign I need it. I don’t plan on going to only three sessions, though. My insurance will only cover the first three. After that, I’ll have to pay for it, especially if it helps. If not, I know there’s Al-Anon groups close I can attend.

I discussed a few entries ago about how Rick Warren sees life as a set of railroad tracks, one track being all the good going on, and the other being all the ick.

My feet are planted firmly in between those sets of tracks. Yes, these last few days have been tough, but I have been blessed beyond measure as well.

Some might think I’m brave for talking about this. I don’t feel brave, and didn’t even feel I took too great a risk by revealing it all. Quite the opposite; I longed to write those words, wondering even as I wrote them what took me so long. It was the right thing to do, of that I had no doubt, though I didn’t know why.

Since I added that entry, I have received so much understanding, support and solid, compassionate advice, how can I not but gain strength from it?

Saying thank you doesn’t begin to convey my gratitude to each one of you. I treasure your comments. The private emails you also sent went to my “From The Heart” email folder so I won’t accidentally delete them. Whenever I’m feeling weak, I can read your words and once again lean on them for strength and comfort. All of you are a literal Godsend.

Now for a little strangeness.

As this episode unfolded and sank further into frustration and sorrow, every time I turned to God, I felt Him smiling. He comforted me, yes, but from Him I only sensed joy and a hope I’ve never before felt. How could that be? Here I am struggling with my marriage and my sanity, and God’s happy?

I took comfort in that, as weird as it sounds.

Sometimes, God forces us to walk what seems like a dark and dismal path. Doing so forces us to not only admit our problems, but takes away all distractions, so we now have no choice but to solve them.

This walk isn’t just for me, but for Dave. He needs to face his alcoholism as much as I need to face my co-dependency.

God smiled because we’re beginning to face these things, and in time I know we’ll both rise above them.

That’s not to say this realization is the end of this dark path. No, this could very well be the entrance into a winding tree-choked path where little sunlight enters.

Yet I still feel joy in the journey, even this one. Why? Because the end is in God’s hands. It always is. I just need to be reminded now and again. Plus how can I not feel blessed when I have you to walk with me?