My husband, who makes about $2500 a year, had an opportunity to work on Friday – or at least get a new project going. Well, he never showed. He chatted with me a little in the morning, but by early afternoon, he’d disappeared from the Google Chat and that was that. I called, thinking maybe he was getting dressed or possibly late to catch the bus. I didn’t get an answer until after I was back at my friend’s house after work.
He was definitely drunk and I was probably cussing at him; I don’t even remember anymore. I had plans to go to dinner and a movie with another friend and he’d called me before I was leaving to go out. Against my best judgment, I picked up some cigarettes for him, because I was thinking at least if he had them, he might not sell my stuff.
I had him meet me in front of the house. I pulled up with the doors locked and the window open only wide enough to fit the cigarette box through. He wanted in the passenger side. I told him no – to come around, and then I handed him his cigarettes. He took them, but was also asking for money to “help” him through the night. I refused and tried to pull away from him but his hand was now inside my window a little bit. I kept trying to inch away, and he was angry. Finally I screamed “Let go!” and drove away. In my rear view mirror I saw him hit / punch my trunk. Thanks.
I went to dinner and ignored him the rest of the night. I had to work job #2 today and attempted to call him on my way there, but he never answered. Again, on my break I got no answer. On my way home, I called probably a dozen times during the hour or so drive and nothing. I’d started to let the voices in that tell me he could be dead or in a diabetic coma. I try not to listen to them, but when I hear them, they really do sound completely valid. I decided that I would go pick up cat food (I knew he needed that) and I would just go upstairs and see what was going on.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to go up there. He called me as I was pulling into the store. A huge wave of relief and rage swept over me. On one hand, I was happy he wasn’t dead, but on the other hand, I was furious that he was OK and still completely wasted. I told him I’d be bringing the cat food by and that I’d like him to come pick it up. He agreed.
When I pulled up and he came around the corner, it was embarrassing to even look at him. He looks horrible. He looks dirty; bloated and he probably smells, too. I handed him the cat food and it’s obvious he’s been drinking all day. I am going to bet that at this point he’s probably sold my Xbox.
I feel so angry and desperate. It’s not a good feeling at all. What am I going to do? This is a complete disaster and he is not going to change. Ever. When am I going to have the courage to finish this?
The Alcoholic Marriage 