I’m struggling with Saturdays. I feel like it’s become the norm for my husband to drink too much alcohol on Friday nights. To the point where I worry and have a hard time sleeping. It’s awful. I think back to all the mornings when I would wake up and not remember a thing. So many hours, gone from my day before. Not even in a row, either. It’s a friggin’ miracle I never got seriously hurt, hurt someone else, or God forbid killed someone else. I’m also amazed that I never burned our house down cooking or smoking. I just don’t trust drunk people to take care of themselves or others. I think having this incredible sober point of view I’ve never had before is a blessing, and a curse. I fear I’ll wake up in the morning and find my husband outside. Having been there all night from slipping and falling on ice or down the steps. It’s eating at me. It’s not just him, either. I think about this when my sisters or friends drinks too much with their kids around. I know we managed to magically make it the last few decades – but doesn’t luck eventually run out? Ugh.

While I feel stronger and more clear-headed, I wonder if it’s pushing us further apart. Or if it’s helping me see more clearly what’s happening. Despite how many times he tells me he feels totally fine, I know he’s hungover and doesn’t feel good. I can see it in his eyes. The same eyes I had for so many years. The biggest tell-tale sign is that we’ll go do our shopping, we’ll get some lunch somewhere fun and new (we love to experience all different ethnic foods) and then once we get home, he’ll lay down on the couch, fall asleep, and then it’s movie day for the rest of the day. We typically have tons of things planned out around our property to get done and are talking them out over lunch. But again, this has been going on almost every Saturday for the last few months. I don’t know what to do, because I feel good. I feel great! I can find things to do on my own if I want but I’m ready to go out to a movie, go for walks, or road trip for some hiking. Cook together, talk and laugh, or get the damn projects done we’ve been planning! But once we’re home and he’s on the couch; the day is over it seems. He’s been talking a lot lately about slowing down on the drinking and I want so badly to believe him, to trust that he’s going to try. But I don’t. I don’t because I’ve heard it so many times in the last year. Sadly, I was in his shoes. I said the same thing for years and I didn’t trust or believe in myself, either. How do I help him? How can I support him and try to be there for him without getting angry?

Looking Ahead. . .

I was pretty unnerved last night when I went to check the weather and lock up the front door. There was lots of rustling around in the empty corn field next to my place. It sounded like a herd walking through my yard. The deer are out full-force, so I was super excited thinking that maybe there’s a giant group of them, but I couldn’t see at all. Then I wondered if the cows were back. We’ve lived here for a while and one year they unleashed the beautiful beasts in the field for the winter. It was pretty fun to watch them. For the most part they’re sweet and caring with one-another. They get super excited when the trucks come and unroll hay bales for them. It’s amazing how these cows can tell from so far away and with so much traffic, that the truck with their food is coming, and start jogging to the field entrance. Since I wasn’t 100% sure what was making all the racket last night, and my dreams of a Bigfoot reunion were slim to none, I went to the window first thing when I woke up. The cows were back! I also went for a walk today in this beautiful weather. I walked past the big, black, shiny, pretty things and they were scared of me. I chalked it up to the florescent orange top I had on and winked at them anyways. The cows coming back reminded me that things can feel unpredictable, but they can also return in unexpected ways. Have you gone through this with a loved one? How did you handle it?