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I want to find a therapist.

I’m sure a lot of people – a lot of people outside the world of the alcoholic marriage that is  – would think along the lines of “duh?” Maybe even, “about time.”

People inside the world of an alcoholic marriage – that is you and me – understand that like everything else in the alcoholic marriage (everything!!) the decision to seek and finally see a therapist is complicated.

The reasons I want to and the reasons I hesitate are actually one in the same.

I saw a therapist once.

I told her my husband was an alcoholic but that was not what I wanted to address in my own therapy.  She proceeded to ask me questions about his alcoholism, which I answered for about 20 minutes and then said,

“But his drinking is really not what I want to deal with in my therapy.”

To which she replied,

“Then why have you been talking about that?”

Uh, because you kept asking me questions about it!

I view where I am in life, in my marriage, in dealing with my alcoholic husband something like this:

I’m on a month long trek through a dense, mountainous forest.  I fall and break my leg.



It hurts!


I curse my bad luck.

I curse my pain.

I curse God.

Several times maybe.

But then?

But then I have got to patch my leg up best I can and proceed on getting out of the forest!

I told the first therapist my husband was an alcoholic just as I’d tell someone who happened upon me in the forest that I had broken my leg.

It’s information that would be necessary for anyone trying to help me.

It sucks being married to an alcoholic.

It hurts.


I’ve cursed my bad luck.

I’ve cursed the pain.

I’ve probably cursed God a few times as well.

But now it’s time to get moving.

Whether that is literally out of my marriage or to a better place within myself within the marriage, I don’t know.

I just know the time for cursing is over.