To the Partner of a Functional Alcoholic

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By: Clara Jensen
Updated: Oct. 1, 2023
Originally Published: Oct. 25, 2017

My spouse is incredibly close to ideal, embodying the dream partner I envisioned while playing dress-up in my mother’s vintage gowns. He’s the devoted dad that every child deserves, the kind of guy who looks me in the eyes and sincerely tells me I’m beautiful—backing it up with reasons that warm my heart. He’s a diligent employee and a committed provider, reminiscent of a character from a beloved TV show, someone with a good heart and authentic intentions.

Yet, like that character, my husband struggles with alcoholism. He’s made efforts to seek help, and we are now nearing two years of navigating a more stable routine. It’s been a positive shift, albeit one that was only reached after he hit rock bottom, pulling me down with him.

If you find yourself in a similar situation, married to a man who is otherwise wonderful but grappling with a serious issue, I’m speaking directly to you. I’ve walked in your shoes, and I understand the daily struggles you face.

When he’s not out or recovering from a binge, life feels good, although it’s often tinged with lingering resentment—like a persistent odor that lingers despite your best efforts to scrub it away. However, those fleeting moments of normalcy are reminders of the life you envisioned together, the one you promised to build with him.

He expresses remorse, and I can see the sincerity in his apologies, even if he can’t fully articulate the reasons behind his actions. There are moments of tears, especially during his more reckless episodes, but he sheds far fewer than I do. Most of the time, he conceals his struggles, acting as if everything is fine.

It’s astonishing how he manages to maintain his facade, going to work each day despite the telltale scent of alcohol. Sometimes I question if I am overreacting or if he’s merely a heavy drinker, given his ability to function—until he stumbles home at dawn, after I’ve called him multiple times, just hours before he needs to be at work. In that moment, the truth becomes undeniable; he may not fit the stereotype of an alcoholic, but his bloodshot eyes tell the story.

At the end of the day, he’s still my husband, the man I love. All I desire is a sense of normalcy. I long for uneventful evenings spent with the family, where I don’t feel compelled to entice him to stay at home. I want to trust him when he says he’s stepping out for a quick errand, hoping he won’t detour to a bar or a friend’s house. I want to know that when he returns, there won’t be the unmistakable scent of alcohol on his breath.

Although I’ve grown accustomed to this reality, it doesn’t mean I’ve accepted it. There’s no peace of mind when he’s out late again. Instead of restful sleep, I find myself tossing and turning, constantly checking the clock and my phone, pacing the house, and peering out the windows. My mind races through countless scenarios: Is he with someone else? Has he been in an accident? Is he in trouble with the law?

I glance at our children, sleeping peacefully, envious of their innocence and wondering why I remain in this situation. Am I doing the right thing? What are my kids missing? Is there a better life out there, or is it just a mirage, a case of the grass being greener elsewhere?

When things are good, they are incredibly good. Yet, the shadows loom large. I could walk away and leave it all behind, but that would mean abandoning the beautiful moments we share, the memories that almost compensate for the hardships. Those memories keep me tethered to hope.

It may be a delusion, but our children view their dad as the center of their universe. So I cling to the hope that he will find a way to overcome his addiction before they become aware of the cracks in our family. I worry they will see their father as less than the hero they imagine him to be.

In sleepless nights, I find myself searching online for answers, typing phrases like “My husband doesn’t come home at night” and “My husband is an alcoholic,” desperately seeking validation. However, all I encounter are message boards filled with well-meaning advice from those who haven’t lived this reality: “If it were me, I would have left long ago.”

As if it were that simple. They don’t grasp the complexity of the situation. Leaving could lead to his self-destruction, and despite everything, I care too deeply for him to consider that option. I know alcoholism is a disease, and his actions stem from that struggle. I don’t want to abandon him because he’s ill.

I’m not here to tell you to leave your spouse; I understand you’re weary of hearing that advice. You don’t need someone to call you foolish for staying, nor do you need to be reminded that you’re enabling his behavior. You’re caught in a cycle of care—addicted to the hope that he will become the man you know he can be.

“Love yourself more than you love him,” they say, as if that simple phrase offers a solution. But how can you separate love for yourself from the love you share? He is part of your life, and letting him go feels impossible.

What you seek is understanding—someone to acknowledge why you choose to stay, despite the chorus of voices telling you otherwise. You are not as weak as they may think; you possess an inner strength that allows you to uphold your family when he falters. You endure sleepless nights, racing thoughts, and the burden of maintaining normalcy. You carry an emotional weight that remains unseen, and your strength is often masked by the appearance of a manageable life.

You are aware that this situation is unhealthy, and you know you have every right to walk away. However, I won’t tell you that you’re wrong for staying. I want you to know that, although you might feel isolated, you are not alone. Many of us have faced similar battles, often hidden from view. No amount of pressure from family or friends will rush you into a decision you’re not yet prepared to make. If you believe this fight is worth it, then continue to fight until the situation evolves—whether that means seeking help together or facing the breaking point of your family unit.

Until then, don’t let anyone diminish your strength—because they cannot fathom the resolve it takes to hold on, even when it feels like your hands are bleeding.

If you’re looking for support, consider Al-Anon, which provides non-religious meetings—both in-person and online—aimed at helping individuals cope with loved ones struggling with alcoholism. For further reading, this resource on IVF offers valuable insights into pregnancy and home insemination. Additionally, if you’re exploring options for starting a family, check out this guide on couples’ fertility journeys.

Summary:

Navigating life with a functional alcoholic partner can be a complex emotional journey filled with hope, fear, and uncertainty. While it’s essential to recognize the difficulties that arise, it’s equally important to seek understanding and support from those who know your struggles. You are not alone, and your strength in facing these challenges is commendable.