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Their addiction - not your fault

Loving someone with an addiction slowly teaches you to believe everything is your fault.  There’s a quiet question that lives in the homes of people who love someone with an addiction. What did I do wrong? We don’t always say it out loud, but it’s there. In the pauses. In the replaying. In the way we try to manage, soften, fix, anticipate. If I were more patient. If I were more loving. If I said things differently. If I didn’t work so much. If I worked less. If I kept the house calmer. If I didn’t push. If I didn’t pull away. Maybe then they wouldn’t drink so much. But addiction doesn’t work like that. A spouse’s addiction is not caused by their partner. It’s not caused by the family. It’s not caused by stress, or conflict, or disappointment, or unmet needs at home. Addiction existed long before you noticed it. Long before you questioned yourself. Long before you started adjusting your life around it. Loving someone does not create addiction. And loving them ...
Recent posts

The Cost of Realizing My Husband is an Alcoholic Too Late

  When I first realized my husband’s drinking was abnormal — at least from my point of view — it already felt too late. We had been dating for a couple of years, living in different cities. I knew he drank. I drank. We were in our twenties. He had no kids. I did. We saw each other a couple of times a week and always had a few drinks together. It felt social. Normal. When we first moved in together, we were working a summer construction project with friends. We paid them in pizza and booze. Nothing about it felt alarming. Maybe I had my blinders on. Then everything happened fast. Engaged. Married. Pregnant. The pregnancy is when I really started to see it. When I stopped drinking, he wanted to be around me less. He went out more. Stayed for drinks after work more. Found more “errands.” More “chores.” I started finding hidden cans. Bottles. I didn’t understand what I was dealing with then. I took it personally. Why didn’t he want to be home with his family? Why wasn’t...

The Cost of Taking an Hour

 I am feeling a little weird this morning. Last night, on my way home, I stopped in at a restaurant I used to work at to see some friends. I ended up having a couple of drinks and staying to chat and watch hockey for a while. I couldn’t help feeling like I was doing something wrong. I still feel like it was wrong. But was it? For most of my marriage, it’s been me at home with the kids. Me doing the cooking, cleaning, driving, organizing, paying bills — everything. My husband has worked and done whatever else he wants, whenever he wants. Drinking every day. Every day’s a party. The odd time I would go out, I would be so damn grateful that I’d thank him profusely when I got home — not too late, not too drunk, not too anything. I always made sure I ruffled as few feathers as possible. Now that he’s a week off booze, it did feel like I was being unsupportive. But if I’m honest, I just needed the time. And the space. I needed to not head straight home. When I drove by the restaurant...

This Is What It Costs: Will this time be different?

  As of today, my spouse has been sober for one week. The longest stretch in 6 months.  My nervous system has learned not to trust it. We’ve been here before. I would like to say that this time is different. But, I don't know. I have no control over it.  So, maybe it is different. Not for them, for me. I have relinquished control. I have accepted - fully accepted that this is not a battle I can fight. I can support, I can love, I can encourage. But, thats it.  Is love enough? No. Against addiction - love is not enough. The first time he got sober was at rehab. I was so filled with hope and was determined to do everything I could to make sure he would never drink again. But he did. The second time he got sober was after I discovered his affair. I hoped and prayed that that was going to be his rock bottom. Because my heart was feeling pain like it never had before. But, it wasn't.  This time he was in a horrible accident. An accident that could have killed him. Bu...
  This Is What It Costs No one tells you what it costs to stay. They only ask why you don’t leave. They ask it casually. Over coffee. In passing. Then, with concern that feels more like impatience than care. As if leaving is a single decision instead of a thousand small calculations made every day in your body. What they don’t see is the cost already being paid. Living beside addiction doesn’t just change the person who drinks. It reshapes the person who stays. It teaches you to become flexible in places that should be firm . It teaches you to doubt your own instincts. It teaches you to lower your expectations so disappointment hurts less — until one day you realize how much you’ve given up without ever agreeing to it. The hardest part isn’t the drinking itself. It’s the unreliability. The emotional absence. The way promises lose meaning. The way you feel completely alone inside a relationship. You learn how to carry the weight. You stop asking for help because it creates tension...