by Martie Lownsberry

Created on: May 20, 2009

The moment my car turns down the road leading to our house, I feel my nerves tighten, my stomach clench, and my hands to start to shake. Pulling into the driveway I shut off the car. I sit there for a moment gathering my courage to face whatever I may find when I walk through the door.

He greets me with a smile and a kiss, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Today he is sober. It has been almost six months since his last drink, I want to believe this time he will make it. This time he will stay clean and sober for good. But, I know, as everyone who has ever lived with an alcoholic does, how easy it is for them to slip off the wagon.

One day at a time, they teach in AA. That philosophy not only applies to the alcoholic, but to the person who lives with and loves them. You learn to be grateful for each day he is sober, and not to fall apart each day he is not.

It wasn't always like that. In the beginning there were the tears, the recriminations, the begging. I must have said a hundred times if you really loved me you would stop. He would of course promise to quit and he would keep that promise a day, a week, sometimes a month and I would think , It is over.

Then I would open a drawer to put away clothes and there would be a bottle that had not been there the day before. Or he would be late coming home from work and I would imagine him lying on the road a bloody unrecognizable mess. When he did arrive, drunk and stumbling, he would take himself off to bed and fall instantly asleep, while I would lie awake all night and cry or pray.

When I was home, I wanted to be at work to escape the compulsion to watch him every minute of every day. Then, at work, I would long to be home to make sure he was safe. It was a vicious circle that had no end.

Well meaning friends would ask me why I just didn't leave him. It wasn't as though I hadn't thought of leaving. I thought of it many times. I simply could not leave him when he was fighting so hard to overcome his urge to drink.

I have have seen the look of utter hopelessness and defeat on his face the morning after a bender. I have heard the anguish in his voice when he asks Why can't I stop? I have held him when he has cried, and I have cried with him and for him. I have at times almost hated him, and at other times admired his determination to succeed to beat this thing. Through it all I have loved him.

Then came the day, when a woman we both knew, another alcoholic took her dog for a walk after drinking. It was a cold January night, and she never made it back to her door. Her daughter coming home from a date found her body, just feet from the house.

We were both shocked and shaken. I kept thinking it could have been my husband lying there, freezing, alone and drunk. I could not get the image out of my mind. I was on the verge of telling my husband that no matter how much I loved him I could not live this way anymore. Before I could speak he came over and knelt in front of me. Taking my hand he said softly. Today was the first time I realized how my drinking must affect you. I keep picturing what it would be like for you if you found me that way. I can't bear the thought of seeing you go through that. He went on to tell me that he could not promise he would never drink again, but he would promise to try.

And he has, In the year since that incident, he has fallen off the wagon twice, but instead of staying drunk for days, he has picked himself up, attended an AA meeting, and another and another. While, there will never be any guarantee that my husband will never drink again there is hope. As long as there is hope I will continue to live with his alcoholism.

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