How I Became an Alcoholic…

I became an alcoholic in the last couple of years. Wait a minute that statement is wrong. I became an alcoholic long time ago. I had cravings and I acted on them. Still, it was all right in my opinion. After my wild years I finally settled down. I met my awesome soulmate. It did not bother me that he drank too. We had a marvelous wedding then we moved the other side of the globe. Oops, we drank every single night. Who cares? I was vulnerable. The new country, the new culture, and the new traditions made me excited and stressed me out. Great reasons to immerse myself in alcohol. My husband (H. from now on) was my drinking buddy. I loved him for it.

I found a job and I created new plans. I had a lot of fun. It did not matter that I often called in sick by using ridiculous excuses so I could sleep more. It did not matter that I stopped remembering how and when I went to sleep. As a result of consuming a bottle of vodka or whiskey together, we had random fights with H. Ah but life was good. Although we had financial difficulties from the beginning, we managed to furnish and decorate our place especially for the first Christmas. We took road trips and hikes. I was also eager to start my own alternative therapy business. It never happened.
We soon had to move for several reasons. Alcohol was not one of them. We ended up living with family members who first helped us out. They did not know that we were alcoholics. I did not know either. We blamed everything else for not finding jobs and friends. Our only entertainment was sitting on the couch watching movies. Obviously with a big box of wine. We needed more and more financial assistance. We always had enough to buy more alcohol.

God gave us another chance. H. found a job and we moved into a nice apartment. I started studying. Thankfully, I never neglected studying and I was proud of myself when I graduated.  The fights between me and H. continued though. They were mostly about money that kept disappearing.  Finally, we had to give up our apartment; we moved back to the house where my mom-in-law lived. The relationships at home got infected. We could not communicate anymore. We were angry all the time. Doors were slammed and the police was involved in some cases. We did not socialize anymore. If we visited a nice place I could not enjoy it. Damn, I only took photos to show them off on Facebook. I believed that my side of the family and friends who lived on another continent did not suspect the reality. Of course they could sense it, they were not stupid. I fought them too. When H’s sisters decided that we needed to be kicked out of the house, we fell apart. H. went to rehab which was the best decision he could make. Now leaving the home was absolutely the right thing to do but the way they threw us out was extremely cruel. They made promises that were sugar coated by fake empathy. We agreed that we had this terrible disease of addiction. Interestingly, they simply changed their minds and ripped the promises apart. By the time H. left the rehab center we had to face the idea of homelessness.


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