Less than a week ago, I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life and betrayed my husband while absolutely wasted. For the last few days, my heart has ached so deeply that I thought it might kill me. Uncontrollable bouts of crying. Restless sleep. Panic attacks as I tried on clothes at the store. The store I went to for the sole purpose of distracting myself. Nightmares.
Sunday felt surreal. My mind left my body to protect itself. I merely existed, floating from room to room like an apparition. We decided to talk about “it” on Wednesday. Wednesday felt like an eternity away. Meanwhile, I grimaced through a belated birthday celebration. A forced smile when the cake was placed in front of me, glowing warm with candles. I took a deep breath and wished that I wouldn’t lose my husband. I panicked when I almost ran out of air to blow the last couple candles out. What if your wish doesn’t count when you use more than one breath? So I forced myself to use every molecule of oxygen that my lungs could sacrifice and didn’t stop my desperate exhale until every candle smoldered.
Monday was full of confusion. If he doesn’t want to be with me, why is he acting like nothing happened? Why are we still texting throughout the day? I wonder if there’s hope for our marriage. Maybe we can get through this. Emergency meeting with my therapist who told me “be kind to yourself”…yeah, right…
Tuesday built up more hope. He’s still calling me hun. Heart emojis. Talking throughout the day. I picked up 2 books about recovery, stepping foot into the serene environment of the library for the first time in years. Hope was still peeking in the door.
Wednesday suddenly everything changed during the day. Shifted. Morphed into a new dynamic that gave me whiplash. “I just need you to understand that things are different now. At least for me…” I read and reread those words as my mind launched itself into the atmosphere again to seek shelter. My mind raced with questions. What happened? Did I say or do something else? Where did I mess this up? Was my hope premature? Now I really dreaded discussing “it” that night. 7pm after dinner. That was the plan.
Wednesday evening, I heard him coming in from work as the weight of his bag hit the floor. I felt like I was going to throw up. I forced myself to eat dinner as he showered. 6:50pm and he hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Hesitantly, I popped my head into the bathroom and said “we can wait until after you eat to talk.” A mumbled thank you as his eyes met mine and then flitted away. He ate. We talked. He was done. I hurt him too bad. A devastating wave of grief and despair hit me right in the gut. I wish I could say I didn’t beg, but I did. I begged him to understand that I blacked out, that I’m committed to sobriety, that I’ll never be able to forgive myself. Everything fell on deaf ears.
I resigned myself to our bedroom. The bedroom? My bedroom? I didn’t know what to call it now. Listened to music, skipping the songs that made the pain rip through my body again. Distraction didn’t work. My mind and my heart nodded in agreement that this needed to be felt, if for nothing more than providing a scar deep enough to point to when temptation pops up in the future. Memories flashed through my head like the music was simply a convenient soundtrack. Laughter, the time I handed him a sauce spoon to scoop ice cream with, when the doctor found a lump and he was there for the scans, and his focused face as he told me about his goals, dreams, and wishes. The sobs strangled me and shook me. What did I do? How could I do this? How could I throw this away? Eventually, sleep.
Thursday delivered a second heartbreak. Our kitten we rescued went to her forever home. Our older cat simply loves us too much to share us. 5pm was the new dreaded deadline that day. I watched her lounge in the golden pool of sun in the living room during the day. She followed me from room to room despite the nervous pace. She had no idea what was coming - she thought it was a normal day. I bawled like a baby when it was time to say goodbye. My heart had already shattered and this day it crumbled into dust. The lovely woman that took her gave me several hugs and assured me our kitten would be happy. And then just like that, she was gone.
I collapsed in the living room in tears and my husband picked me up. Held me. Coached me to copy his breathing pattern because at that point I was hyperventilating. I clutched him tightly, afraid to let go because I knew he may never hug me this way again. Forehead kisses. My favorite. I figured maybe he was just in the moment. After all, he told me he was done last night and it was said with such fierce conviction. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. I was taken aback, scared almost, and unsure.
“I think we can work this out,” he said. All I could say was “…what?” I protested. I repeated what he told me - that this was best for him. He asked if I was pushing him away and I said no, still in disbelief.
My husband. I didn’t lose him. I was so scared our marriage wouldn’t survive. When I asked what changed his mind, he said “I still love you” with tears in his eyes. Suddenly, the world had color again. I didn’t feel like I was breathing through a straw anymore. But I did feel weak. My knees buckled with relief and he caught me. He caught me because he always did.
They say be careful what you wish for. I say be grateful what you wish for. I didn’t know my birthday wish would come true but I’m damn happy it did.
I find it therapeutic to write. I used to write, poetry mostly. The words heal me. They help me process. I hope my journey helps others and I will continue to share as I fall deeper in love with sobriety and all the things it affords me. As of today, I am 5 days sober from binge drinking. Absolutely grateful for my life and for my marriage. I picked a good one.
