I've been to rock bottom, and this ain't it!

My husband is an alcoholic in "remission".  I can't bring myself to write "recovering" because there is no permanent cure for this disease.

I frequent many blogs of those that have loved ones similarly afflicted because although my husband has been in remission for almost 5 years, I have to remember where I came from. I know that this disease can become full-blown in a matter of a single decision.  I know his disease is over in the corner doing push-ups, willing and wanting to come back into his life.  I read these blogs because I care so much about these wonderful folks who pour their heart out, many who come to find themselves disappointed again and again.

Putting my job loss in the perspective of major events in my life, I know there is no hell greater than living in a home with active alcoholism. The days seem so dark, the seasons pass without notice, and when I wasn't busy trying to control the drinking, control the fallout b/c of the drinking, or scream and yell about the wrongs of the alcoholic, I would curl up into a fetal position and dream of better days.  This ain't rock bottom, by any stretch.

Making the decision to move out of the home I shared with my alcoholic was the most painful decision I have ever made. When I made it, I did it quickly before I could change my mind. And it was hard, and I cried, and mourned for all that had changed since I took my vows, and I cried some more. No, losing my job is a drop in the bucket compared to that.

So I held my resolve, learned to enjoy coming home to an empty yet oh-so-peaceful house, and followed his counselor's proposed plan of not communicating with my husband for 30 days. As the days wore on, I lost a lot of the anger I had, and I started missing him, wishing we could be together for the holidays, if only... The pain of being fired cannot compare with longing to be with one you love, but knowing you have to save yourself, and not really wanting to.

By the miracle of God, my husband decided to stop drinking a few months after I left. On his own. With no help from me. Huh? How did THAT happen? Slowly, we began to talk and see each other again.  My wounded heart was cautious but optimistic.

My story has a happy ending. We're back together, he is actively working his "remission", and our lives are no longer filled with day-to-day drama. So many others don't get happy endings, either through divorce, death, or just giving up and living through it. I am so thankful for our outcome, and my heart breaks for those that continue to live through this insanity. Everyone's rock bottom is different, and for me, losing my job -- well, this just ain't it.