I married an alcoholic. I didn’t know it at the time, but when I think about it now, I realise the signs were there from the very beginning. I remember bumping into him during our postgrad days. We lived at the same halls of residence in central London.
Anyway, I was on my way out of the building and he was on his way in, carrying his groceries. These consisted of two Mars bars and two beers. My grocery bag usually contained gorgonzola cheese and fruit. I know that sounds smug, but there it is. A sign if there ever was one. And I didn’t see it.
Sixteen years later and here we are: married, with a 4-year-old daughter, one of us employed, the other not (guess which). I’m now allergic to gorgonzola cheese. He still buys beer and chocolate.
Needless to say, I don’t drink.
** update: July 2013
I first started this blog in April 2012. Since then, my husband, who I call Ben here, has been in and out of detox, went into rehab (twice) and is now in recovery. He no longer drinks, nor does he live with us. Our daughter is now 5. I’ve kept this blog anonymous, to protect the identities of my daughter, her dad… and myself.
And me? I’m still married to an alcoholic.