On September 7, 2014, I experienced a pivotal moment after a decade of turmoil. The bitter taste of suppressed tears lingered in my throat as I witnessed my partner, Mark, pour an entire bottle of whiskey down the drain. For the first time in years, I felt a glimpse of hope. As he urged me to dispose of the unopened beer cans, I believed we were on the path to healing. He was choosing sobriety, and with that choice, I thought we could restore our marriage.
However, my optimism was short-lived.
Our seemingly picture-perfect union lasted just one week. During that brief period, I felt secure and filled with hope, envisioning a future free from alcohol. But it wasn’t Mark’s relapse that shattered my confidence; rather, it was the realization of the internal chaos that had been escalating within me for years. His sobriety brought forth acceptance and healing, yet it also unveiled the emotional struggles I had buried for too long.
As Mark immersed himself in Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), my feelings of isolation grew. I began to resent the very act of his healing. While he was busy attending meetings, I was left alone with our young child, grappling with my own emotions. I felt neglected, as if my needs were insignificant compared to his recovery journey. I was still expected to support him during a time when I felt completely unsupported.
This “us” versus “them” mentality—where I felt like an outsider in his recovery process—only intensified my anger and frustration. It is difficult to articulate the loneliness that accompanies supporting someone battling addiction. The reality is that the recovery process often mirrors the struggles of the drinking days, leaving those close to the individual feeling just as isolated.
As time passed, I sought therapy, which allowed me to confront the painful truths of our relationship. I spoke openly about the violence and emotional turmoil that had been part of our lives for a decade. With each therapy session, I grew stronger, but this newfound strength also distanced me from Mark. I realized I no longer wanted the life we had built together.
By early 2015, I had the courage to label my experiences as abuse. I expressed my love for him but acknowledged that I was no longer in love. It was then that I made the difficult decision to pursue a divorce.
Statistically, relationships involving addiction often face significant challenges, and I was determined not to become another statistic. I engaged in Al-Anon, attempting to support Mark while simultaneously reclaiming my own life. However, I soon recognized that the focus on victimhood wasn’t conducive to my healing. I needed to disentangle myself from the past to move forward.
We began couple’s therapy shortly thereafter. It has been close to a year since Mark’s last drink and over a year since he last harmed me. Yet, the emotional scars linger. We have shared beautiful moments, but the journey toward true healing requires ongoing effort. Our past will always be a part of us, but it is how we choose to navigate that past that ultimately defines our relationship.
For those who are in AA, your commitment is commendable; you are on a path of strength and self-discovery. For family members of individuals in recovery, your resilience is also admirable—not just for enduring but for prioritizing your own wellbeing. And for those who have loved ones grappling with addiction, remember that you are not alone. Seeking help is essential, and resources are available to support you in your journey. Check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination here.
This experience has taught me that we are not so different, even as we navigate the complexities of sobriety together and apart.
In conclusion, while sobriety may not have saved my marriage, it opened the door to understanding my own needs and the importance of self-care. This journey is ongoing, and I encourage others to reach out for support as they navigate their own paths.