Waiting anxiously, alone on the couch, I wonder who will be coming home to me tonight. It’s been this way for quite some time now. It’s always a guessing game until she arrives. The television is on but I can’t concentrate on what the characters are saying or doing. All I can think about is her. Who she’ll be? What she’ll be? What she’ll say? Has the demon inside the bottle consumed a little more of her soul tonight? There’s no more escape. As each second of the clock ticks by, I’m that much closer to knowing my fate.

The waiting might be worse than the fate itself. It’s driving me crazy. Day after day, night after night, I go through the same routine. The thoughts streaming in and out of my mind constantly of the evening ahead… Will it be full of playful chit chat and laughter or will it be saturated with hopelessness and cynicism? It’s very uneasy feeling to have this much stress from the one I love. I think to myself, “How much longer can I do this? How much more can my heart and soul take?” The ambush of an alcoholic could be at any time.

It’s a painful time for me. I don’t like this part of my day. But most days, it’s always in the back of my mind. I’m so good at using things like work or the commute as distractions from my real life. I’m so good at hiding my daily struggles from the rest of the world. No one can see my heartache. No one can see the turmoil that grips me with each sunrise. No one knows what I’m going through right now. It’s the side of me that never appears in conversation. It’s the side of me that’s nervous of what my wife has become. Nervous of what the rest of my life might become. I’m truly lost right now because I’m scared of a woman who once heard my vows.

It wasn’t always like this. There was once a time where I never had a doubt that she was going to be there for me. She was kind, sweet, caring, and beautiful. Everything I could have ever wanted or dreamed about in a wife. I question how it all could have changed before my very eyes… It just did. I wonder on a nightly basis, if I could have done more to prevent this situation. I wonder if it’s my fault. I wonder if she’ll ever be released from her liquid prison.

As time has continued on though, the intoxicated side has been showing up with more and more frequency. In the war that rages inside her, I seem to be losing the battle when the choice of drinking is my enemy. I’m going to have to make a decision soon on what to do with myself. Should I stay, continue to hide, and be miserable with this brutal disease as my counterpart in life? Or should I go, and choose a life that’s uncertain and mysterious? I realize that there is nothing I can do to control the alcohol so the choice should be somewhat easy. But the love I hold for this woman won’t let me turn and walk away very comfortably. I’m tired of it though. I’m tired of not being able to speak. I’m tired of the flood of negativity. I’m tired of going to bed alone night after night. I’m tired of this feeling before she arrives home. I’m tired of watching her slowly dying.

I’ve tried it all to stop this madness. I’ve been supportive. I’ve been angry. I’ve pleaded, on my knees with tears rolling down my face, to get the help she needs. I’ve listened to the promises. I’ve heard her say on too many occasions that she’s choosing me over the alcohol only to be disappointed over and over again. Some might call it masochism to sit through such anguish knowing too well that I have a choice.

I’ve reached the end of fighting for us. I’ve reached the end of waiting for happiness. I’ve reached the end of the headaches and illness. I think tonight will be the last night I sit in such torment.

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