I'm not that good a Christian, yet.

I realized, today, I'm battling a lower-grade depression.

In some ways it's worse than the full blown no-energy-for-a-shower depressions.  This is more like an insidious flood.

I try to be real: happy families make me depressed.  When my meds are off, happy families make me angry.  I think people can draw their own conclusions on that.

The first house:  My neighbor, next door, is going all-out-to-the-wall constructing living space in the garage.  He's done a lovely job.  Just a few days ago, it was rebar on the garage floor, then a foundation, now he's installing windows and carpet.

It makes me sad.

I never wanted kids, still don't.  I should probably go into detail.

I suffered a lot because my mother wasn't able to mother.  From what I heard, her neglect went to the criminal level.  I suffered a lot of pain as a result.  I don't have those happy, formative, "playtime with Mommy" memories.  I have memories of wailing in terror as my alcohol-soaked, manic, mother came into the bedroom and plucked me out of my crib.

I love my children more than that.  I have, what I believe were a couple of miscarriages.  I didn't seek medical care but the symptoms were there.  If so, then I have kids waiting in heaven.  If not, I'm sure God has unwanted kids in heaven.  Or, something beyond that.

"I don't want to fail my kids the way my mother failed me." I recently told a medical professional.  She nodded.

So, I'm not angry because I want the kids for myself, or even the loving, handyman husband.  I'm angry because I never had the childhood where my Dad dropped everything to play with me.  I'm angry because my mother was so terrible, I preferred the neglect.  I'm sad because my best parent, as a toddler, was a cat.

Anyway, I knew I was "having trouble" and assumed it related to the work next door.  I have taken longer naps and had a harder time starting up again after I do.

I realized, tonight, it was depression.  Personally, I'm happy for the neighbors.  I was scared to death when I thought they were moving.  I'm glad they are figuring out ways to stay put, and expand.  I wish them nothing but happy lives.

Now we reach the second house.  Mine.  I battle mental illness, every day.  It feels exhausting some times.

Ron is a slave to alcohol.  He thinks he is the master.  He is blinder than blind because he thinks he is in control.  And he's not.

The alcohol calls all the shots.  He told me recently he is drinking Everclear.  As if that wasn't bad enough, every time he has some he quotes "The Everclear  Song" at me.  "Beer just makes me fat, whiskey makes me nauseous....the answer's crystal clear, the invisible intoxicant, called Everclear".

He has made some adjustments.  He realized, he drinks when he is already drunk and unaware.  He thinks he only had one drink and discovers he had a whole flask (about a month ago).  He concluded he could prevent that by keeping the alcohol in the front of the house.  He has to be sober, or nearly so, to walk that distance.

Trust me, I've seen enough blackouts to know.  Ron can't walk when he's having a blackout and I just leave him on the floor.  It's all I can do.  Al-anon would probably want me to put a blanket on him but I'm not that good a Christian, yet.

He has also concluded "I take a drink, don't feel anything, have another one, and wake up on the floor. Maybe I had better time my alcohol consumption."  So, he has one drink an hour.

How big is that one drink an hour?  [head in hands]  God only knows.  Ron takes a drink right off the flask.

He is trying to master it.  He's realizing he has a problem, but I often, bitterly, think he will never admit he is an alcoholic.  He knows the location of an AA, not far from the house.  I told him about it in the context of "I went to some Al-Anon meetings".  When he's ready, everything is lined up.

I am sure some nice person would love to give Ron a ride to AA.

Other than leave, there's not much I can do.  Even Alanon says "don't mess with the alcohol".  So, I don't, anymore.

One day, before medication, I stabbed a wine box to death, after putting it in the sink.  I liked that a little too much.  I'd paid for it, Ron got drunk on it, and got ugly with me.  I let him find it the next day. Oh, the look on his face... but that's a "bad".  Don't do that.

Another time I took a bottle of beer and threw it on the floor of the garage, also before medication.  Then I had to clean it up.  Not fun, and confirmed the "You're the one with a problem, not me" perspective for Ron.

So, I have set boundaries.  Ron has revealed enough to me recently to realize he is dead terrified of me leaving him.  I'm sure a lot of you are thinking "You couldn't figure this out on your own?"

Somewhere between "Thank you for giving Baby Girl her ear mite drops" and "I have to tell the pastor you need to teach a soap making class after church tomorrow" he told me he loves me, he values me, he respects me, and he couldn't make it without me.

I believe I can get a lot of truth out of him when he's drunk, for good or for ill.  His filter is completely off and everything he thinks comes right out, good or bad.  Does it change anything?  Not really; but it does confirm the fact that Ron is very sick.

Everything I read, everything I hear (and I have spoken to some experts in alcohol abuse) says "He has to hit rock bottom for himself, realize he has a problem, and want to fix it.  Nothing you say or do can make that happen."

You may remember, 2 years ago I did sign him up for the show "Intervention".  I think, if we'd gone that route, he would have gotten help.  But that's not what God wanted for him.

Instead, he's passed out in the bedroom, a TV dinner beeping in the microwave, about to fall off the bed.

God's made it clear, clear enough to me, I'm to stay, set boundaries to protect myself.  Keep the bug out bag ready if needed.   It's not what I want, of course.  But it's what Ron and I both need, for now.

Does his alcohol abuse make me a better Christian?  In some ways it does.  I am more motivated to share my faith with others; because I know other people out there are hurting like I do.  I know they need God as much as I do - but they don't know how to reach Him.

Living with Ron has taught me to be more loving, patient, and kind.  To put aside my needs sometimes in order to serve someone else.

[I know some people think that I "enable" Ron by simply living with him.  I enable him to live on his own.  Yes, I'm guilty of that.  I enable him to stay out of the system.  He wants to live independently and I enable that, by reading his mail, buying his groceries, feeding his cats, and cleaning his toilet.  

Do I enable him in the drinking?  No, he get out of bed on his own, goes to the liquor store on his own, and brings in the alcohol on his own.  He stores it on his own, prepares it on his own, and drinks it on his own.  I'm not involved in the process in any way and he has reluctantly accepted that.]

Living with Ron has taught me, I have to give Ron to God.  I have to let God work on him.  I need to focus on pleasing God, instead of pleasing Ron all the time.  Sometimes I'm going to piss Ron off, and that's OK.

The important thing, for me, is making God happy.  God wants me to stay with Ron, He's made that clear, so here I will stay.  I trust God will give me the grace and other things I need in order to do so.