Alcoholic Daze – it seemed such a good name for my blog – a play on words of daze and days – because alcohol features quite a lot in my days, and weeks, and months, and years. But before you go leaping to conclusions, I am stone cold sober. All the time. My husband Greg on the other hand is not. I am watching him slowly kill himself and our love with it. He is an alcoholic. There, I have said it, spoken it out loud and now I believe it myself. HE IS AN ALCOHOLIC. Up to now, not many people knew he was, including me. At first I did not see it creeping up on us, then when I did, I tried to excuse it for something else. Eventually, when there was no doubt about it, I tried to keep the “problem” to myself for years until I broke down one day and told his sister Jill. She in turn told their mother. A few months down the line, I decided to bare all to my best friend S, whom I mainly email on a weekly basis, as she does not live close by. Then eventually, when my mother came to stay with us for a week over Christmas, eighteen months ago, it was so obvious to her and so she became enlightened to my world. The small circle of those that knew remained confined until recently. They were there in the background offering me support when I felt down or frustrated. Before I had told them, I had felt in the middle of a nightmare. Once they knew, I felt I could at least share the nightmare with them.
But recently, things have reached such a peak – I shall endeavour to explain later as the blog unfolds- that it was proving difficult to contain the problem. My daughter Kay who is in the throes of sixth form and all the pressures that brings with coursework and exams, was finding it impossible to get the peace at home she needs to study. Normality for us is Greg shrieking his head off when anyone dares to say boo to a goose. The simplest things can set him off. Harmless questions to me or you can send him into orbit like the incredible hulk. Obviously the later in the day, and the more alcohol he has consumed, the greater the outbursts. Which usually coincide with my daughter coming home from school and attempting to do her homework. I use the word attempt advisedly because often she has to give up…..like she did a few weeks ago, when trying to revise for a chemistry test. She had to give up. He was shouting for so long and for hours on end. He usually follows us around the house as we move from room to room to get away from him and diffuse the situation. The result was that she did the test not having been able to revise a single thing the night before. She knew she had done badly and the results a few days later were confirmed. The teacher was not best pleased and took it out on her. Her A-levels were at risk. That for me was the final straw. The pretence could go on no longer. Suddenly, all these years of trying to hide it from everyone because of our collective shame was no longer important. We had to admit it and explain. For my daughter’s sake. For her future. Now was my time to come out and admit to the world that my husband is an ALCOHOLIC. It was at that point I made an appointment to see the school. Now the small circle of those who knew was about to be made bigger.