This morning I asked my husband of ten years, "Are we going to get counseling for this problem? Neither one of us is happy."

"If you need to get counseling you go right ahead. I don't have a problem, my only problem is you. Do whatever you need to do."

Is it me? Am I the problem?

For the better part of ten years I have been listening to this man yell, belittle, criticize, demean, and talk down to me, his wife, a woman I barely recognize anymore. When he walks into the room, or comes home from work, my stomach clenches and I am afraid of what he'll say. What did I do wrong this time?

For the better part of ten years I have watched this man drink his way into a bottle. Before we married I broke up with him because his drinking habit was something I was unwilling to live with in my life. Two weeks later he came back to me, begged me to take him back, told me he would never drink again. I believed him. For almost two years he didn't drink, but a week before the birth of our first child, he began drinking again. At first it was a beer or two a few nights a week, and later three or four beers every night of the week, to his present consumption of exclusively mixed drinks, wine, and hard alcohol.

For the better part of ten years I have lived side by side with a man who believes his opinions are the only ones that matter and anyone, namely me, who's opinion differs is wrong, and worse, is less of a person for having different beliefs, opinions, ideas, thoughts, feelings, and ways of doing things. It's always my fault, I am always to blame for his misery, my misery, our problems, our unhappiness, our inability to get along. I cannot ever do anything right.

For the better part of ten years I have struggled to hold onto my very heart and soul. As long as I am "just" a wife taking care of my husband's needs, as long as I am "just" a mother taking care of and loving my kids, my marriage would be "happy". If I step outside of those roles and reach across the abyss to try and grab hold of the rest of me, to try and reach the damaged, almost forgotten pieces of my heart and soul, the pieces that make me who I am...well his angry, condescending, hateful words push me over the edge and I'm falling. Falling and waiting for the crash.

For the better part of yen years I wake up most mornings and look at the man beside me and think, "Is this it? Is this all there is to life?" I look around at the people in my life. Who's really happy? Who's marriage is genuine?

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