I have a good life

I have a GOOD life. I know that, I thank God for it daily. I have an illness, I have a disability, but I have medication. I don't have to worry about my next meal, or getting evicted next week. I don't have to worry about getting gang-raped and losing my husband to a forced impressment in a militia - as many women do in other countries.

Thirsty? I turn on my faucet. I don't have to walk miles to and from the well. I have indoor plumbing and an icemaker. I even have a nice pair of glasses with the photo-tint.

I have a good life, but it isn't easy. It is awful watching my husband, drunk, and angry with God. It breaks my heart. No, he is (presently) not verbally abusive to me when he drinks - but he's very angry and in such pain.

I told Ron, rather dryly, "You didn't sleep well last night." He agreed, never wondering how I knew. He woke me up, often. He was just that drunk.

I found it very sad that he was trying to be quiet, even hushing himself loudly when he knocked something over. It just hurts my heart to see him like that. Even like THAT, he loves me and wants to care for me. [sigh]

I took this to God, of course, and He reminded me that if it hurts me, if hurts Him even more. A Bible verse comes to mind - I don't have the "address" "Praise the Lord, who carries our burdens day by day. He is the God who saves us."

I wonder. I wonder if Ron's life has been so awful that he will always be this angry, sad, and depressed. I wonder if he can ever view life with joy and anticipation. Is that too much to ask? Should I gratefully accept the tries-to-be-quiet "Sorry" drunk? The one who is always sorry the next day, rather than the angry hater who says "I don't know what I did last night, but whatever it was you had it coming"? I've seen both, and I'd rather not the hater.

I know this, God can do amazing things with Ron. I have absolute faith. I'm just not sure what He wants me to do and expect. Love him as-is? Stage an intervention one day? I do know God wants me right here, giving Ron my best.

I never dreamed I would marry a man who'd battle with alcohol. Some things I can't share, but from what Ron told me as we dated I assumed he'd never be a serious drinker. Assumptions. [pained groan] In my own defense, I was 17.

So, I slept horribly and woke up with a headache. I have been binging on peanut butter - I don't know why. I do thank God that my headache took off about when I got to work. I'm tired, and looking at my life - at times I am overwhelmed.

I thank God I have Jesus, who carries my burdens - if I let him. Even with help, I get angry, frustrated, and depressed. I used to hate alcohol. I have never seen someone I felt was improved by the addition of alcohol. It always seems, in my estimation, to reduce people to their lowest common denominator, and that was before I married an alcoholic.

The nice thing about my mental illness - no one wants me drunk! Especially when I tell them I get paranoid and hallucinate. It was an awful couple hours - for one drink - but I'm glad I did it so I can say with sincerity "No Thanks".

Back to topic: I used to hate alcohol, until one day I was at work and I saw an obese person buying a can of soda and a candy bar out of our vending machines. I KNEW that stocking that stuff hurts peoples' health, I blogged about it, and I just spent longer than I'll ever admit finding this link: http://houstonheather.blogspot.com/2007/06/drink-responsibly.html Check the date, I wrote that 3 years ago. I like to think I'm growing.

If only Ron would use the portion control cups he begged me to buy then. He's "got it down now". [sigh]

That depends on your definition of "it".