All was quiet today at my home.

It happens like that after a blow-up.

I have spent the entire day thinking about my children, what is going on, how I can best help them, etc. etc.

(Not like that is a constant theme running through my head…)

The greatest conflict – where my children are concerned anyway – is my youngest son and my daughter, the youngest, only girl.  The contempt they have for one another is palatable.  After dwelling on it all day, I think the dynamics between them are such for a several reasons.

A) At nearly three years apart – my daughter is ten and my son will be 13 in January – they are the closest in age.

B) There is the boy/girl factor at play but also they are the most different from one another than all my children.

C) I saved the best for last – they are experiencing an intensity to their father’s drinking that my older boys did not know.  When my older kids were this young, my husband’s drinking and accompanying behavior wasn’t yet “this bad.”  We travelled, hiked, went to the movies…did things as a family.

My husband and I could actually drive down the street together – IN THE SAME CAR!!

But now the drinking and his behavior as esculated and this is what my younger children are experiencing in their formative years. Of course they were along for the “fun times” but as babies/toddlers/little kids, they don’t remember much of it.

So how can I help them?

What can any of us as mothers do?

Well, it’s the proverbial “put your own oxygen mask on first” analogy.

I’ve made the decision 2017 is going to be all about me!

As in healing me and finding my way to the life I want to create for myself and my kids.  I am going to put fixing or saving my kids’ relationships on the back burner for 2017.  It’s scary and nerve-racking to think of doing that – what if next year is “too late?”  What if they never heal their relatioships?

That’s the risk I have to take because trying to “fix” them while I am broken myself isn’t really working.

Oh, the evils of FaceBook.

We all have them, don’t we?

That ONE friend who seems to be doing so much better than us in life.

Financially.

Socially.

Husband-ly.

The object of my friend-envy is someone I haven’t seen since my wedding.

(More evils of FaceBook.  Why are we even “friends” with these people?)

Her kids are a little older then mine, with the youngest one finishing college and the older ones all grown up and working “real” jobs.

She and her husband, though not officially retired, enjoy week ends jetting off here and there.  Ironically we were together the night she met her husband. She “called” him first.

I thought, “Fine. The friend is cuter anyway.”

Do I think I would be “her” if I had “called” him first.

Ha!

No, I don’t think that.

But I do look at her life and compare mine unfavorably.

That’s not good, I know.

And then tonight, it hit me.

All she did was pick a better (i.e. non-alcoholic) husband than me.

As the season draws to its conclusion, it seems that as the wife of an alcoholic, I have contradictory emotions.

I love the Christmas/holiday season.

And yet it is some of the worst times for those of us in an alcoholic marriage.

And so while saying good-bye to yet another Christmas and another year is a little bitter, saying good bye to the ramped-up alcoholic behavior is sweet.

I hope you have a gentle night and a joyful day tomorrow.

Through it all, I still believe…

watching a holiday movie with an alcoholic.

Maybe I should title this post, “Why Do I Try?”

I made a simple dinner, gathered everyone around the television and instructed them (basically) to watch a movie and have some %$# holiday cheer.

Not in so many words, of course, but that is what I was going for.

The first argument was over what movie to watch.

Then where was everyone sitting.

Then too many people were talking and they were too loud.

And so on and so on and so on.

And guess who was fueling most of the arguing and tension?

Ding, ding, ding if you said my alcoholic husband.

It was (is) sad, really.

Very sad.

We’re a broken family.

Plain and simple.

can they still get to us?”

This is what a friend of mine, also married to an alcoholic, texted to me yesterday.

“I’m so mad at myself.  Why do I let him do this to me?”

I know it’s all well and good to say that we are in control of how people make us feel, that only we choose how we react to people, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah but I think that’s kind of, well bull shit.

We are human beings.

Human beings have sort of pre-set as to how they are going to react to certain things.

We don’t choose to be emotionally hurt, saddened or angered by certain behaviors any more than we choose to be physically hurt if someone punches us in the face.

Why can they still get to us?

Because it hurts to be lied to.  That’s a natural human reaction.

It hurts when a simple request is met with vitriole and condemnation.

It hurts when someone we love – the person who is suppose to be easing the burden of living – makes daily life painful.

They still get to us because we still care.

Not because we are weak.

Or stupid.

Or some ridiculous version of the pop-culture term “co-dependent.”

But because our souls are not (yet?) pickled.

Because even the beast of alcoholism takes a long time to kill the human heart.

And it’s a slow, painful death.