The Shit is Rapidly Approaching the Fan...

Well here it is. The thing I have been dreading for two years is about to deal the deathblow to my life.

After being laid off from the bank I was confident that a new job was right around the corner. Severance money was squandered trying to make it the best summer my kids ever had to set their mind at ease. After several months I did finally get a new job, but bills were so screwed up by that point that I dipped into my old 401k without telling my better half. I thought when I had them take taxes out of withdrawal that we were all good. The following year when I went to file taxes I failed to include the withdrawal as part of our income. Now the IRS wants the refund we received plus the penalty we would have owed. All total it's $6k.

I've come clean about part of it...mentioning that I did take a portion of the 401k and that I legitimately thought that having them take taxes out was the end of it...not including the withdrawal as income was something I probably should have known about. He wants to see a CPA and make sure the claim is correct. I know it's correct, but I don't want him to find out just much I took.

I know a $6k IRS penalty isn't the end of the world, and I'm sure the IRS will offer us payment options. Money handling has never been a stable part of our relationship. Neither one of us is good about being fiscally responsible. I've tried to handle things on my own because he was already under enough stress that his drinking was considerably worse. I thought I was sheltering him and doing the best thing for him shouldering the burden on my own. Of course this probably has a lot to do with the fact that I am not happy unless I make myself miserable.

Well, in that case I'm the happiest woman in the world right now because I seriously wish I was dead.

PMS, DT's or PTSD

I never followed through with my plans to contact EAP. I think I was overly emotional, as some women are about once a month. And things went seemingly well the first week or so. He admitted after that week that he only made it until Wed. when the withdrawals proved to be too much. He has decided to institute a 9 beer limit Sun-Thurs. Weekends are a no limit free-for-all. So far the only exception to this was his birthday; where he seemingly decided that he had free reign to be a total and complete ass. I did my best to bite my tongue and not make things worse. I know he is very nervous about his new responsibilities at work so I'll be his verbal punching bag so he can vent. It's a role I've played all too well in the past.

We have not really talked about this whole life changing plan of his. He had promised after his first big announcement that we would talk things out when he was sober. I haven't really asked how things are going other than a general "How ya doin' with the...you know?" Communication, the corner stone of a strong relationship...yeah, right. Otherwise he has been his usual emotionally and physically distant self. Man he sure is lucky he found someone who doesn't mind being treated like crap. I have my suspicions that the physical shutout has to do more with mechanical issues, or the fact that he usually had to get liquored up to stomach touching me in the first place. Must suck having to use beer goggles to sleep with your own wife. Sorry, that was a bit of a pity party tangent, but I'm sure the problem is probably mechanical. He has recently mentioned that he needs to go to the eye doctor, the dentist and the "dick doctor".

He did say something about me being nicer to him lately. He suspects that I deliberately talked down to him because I thought he was drunk. He claims that he doesn't act; he reacts. If he was being an ass it's because I was being a bitch. True, I wouldn't take him seriously if I could tell he was buzzed or flat out wasted. He hasn't been behaving that way recently so I haven't had a need to speak against any of his crazy monologues.

Hopefully he sees some good results at work soon. That should prove to him how much cutting down on his alcohol intake is improving his situation and that I'm not the one holding him back. I just worry that if drinking is his response to stress and stress, in whatever form, never really goes away he won't ever be able to cut down more or eventually stop.

I guess all the years of neglect and emotional abuse from my childhood have molded me to be the perfect wife in this situation and stick with him through this mess. I like to think a lesser woman would have left years ago, but it's really a stronger woman that would have had the nerve to leave.

God help me I do love the bastard. For all his faults he cares more for his children than any father I could have ever hoped for.

Here goes nothin'...

I've developed a bit of a game plan. I don't know how well it will work, but I gotta do something.

First I'm going to contact the EAP office at work. If you aren't familiar with the Employee Assistance Program it is a pretty awesome service that offers basic counseling services for employees on a short term basis. Most major corporations offer this service so look into it if you ever find yourself in need. My hope is that after a couple of individual sessions I will be able to bring the kids in on it so they learn how to relate to a father they have rarely seen before.

My husband is not open to any group therapy and he is unwilling to try a 12 step program. There will be no "making amends". He has said all along that his drinking was a direct reaction to the stress we gave him here at home by not being the perfect little Stepford family. I know that therapy won't make me into what he perceives as the ideal wife and mother, but maybe it will help me better react to the constant criticism without making things worse.

I know that his success or failure at sobriety will mean the end of our marriage. Honestly I can admit that it was probably over long ago and his drinking is what kept him here in the first place. I could go into a million examples of this but I'll save it for therapy.

I don't know what he has told the children about all of this. I haven't mentioned it and I'm not going to until we have had some sort of family discussion. Thankfully they weren't around when he dropped this bombshell on me and they weren't home until late in the evening so they haven't seen me breaking down into tears for no apparent reason.

I'm pinning all my hopes on counseling. Unfortunately that's where all my fears lie as well. What if therapy proves him right? What if everything that has gone wrong in his life the last 20 years is my fault? I accepted him and all his flaws. He accepted me and all my flaws. Now he wants to better himself, but what if I'm as good as I'm going to get?

The start of something new or the beginning of the end

My husband of almost 20 years just told me he is giving up alcohol, cold-turkey, and that if he fails he will leave me.

While I am proud of him for making the decision to change his life for the better, he has some how made his 30 year addiction my fault. I've tried before to convince him to quit. I hoped he would see how his drinking affected our children and he would make the decision to stop. But whatever finally pushed him to make the change doesn't matter; it is the right thing to do for him and for the children.

What concerns me is that he is going into this on his own. No support system except for me and the kids. We aren't trained professionals; we are flawed humans just like him. So how can he pin the possibility of failure on me? I put up with the all the crap that comes from living with an alcoholic. I put out all the fires with the children. I was a single parent a lot of the time because he just wasn't there to help with the kids or the bills.

Was I a perfect mother, housewife, financial planner? No, I never claimed to be. I did the best I could on my own. Now he tells me we should have never gotten married because neither one of us is good with money. He tells me how much all of his friends have. He tells me how some of them turned their lives around because of strong supportive wives. I get no credit for sticking through all the shit of the last 20 years without complaining. Anytime I did try to bring something up about money or minor household issues I had to deal with whatever state of inebriation he was in. Then there would be the inevitable argument later on when he didn't remember anything we had previously discussed.

I am not blameless, but I don't know if I can handle being solely responsible for the success or failure of his sobriety.

Bruised

Not battered, not broken, just bruised

A deep bruise that doesn't show

Touch and the pain awakens deep down

You keep poking and poking

So that I'll never heal

When is enough enough?

Twenty years of being blamed for everything that has gone wrong. Twenty years of having to judge how much he's had to drink, what mood is he in, how much will he remember, catching hell when you guess wrong. I'm not perfect. I'm a lousy housewife. I can't cook. I can't handle money well. I thought I was paying my dues by being denied real affection, never a unsolicited hug or kiss.

He claims we are supposed to be a team when all he wants is for me to agree with whatever crazy drunken lecture he decides to deliver after hours in his workshop. I do my best to agree when I see that his intentions are good but his method is ineffective. I tell the kids the abbreviated version later and assure them that their father is not a raving lunatic.

Sometimes I guess wrong. Sometimes he is more aware and that's when he gets angry. His idle threats are almost laughable now and rarely upset me. Sometimes, when he is more coherent, his screaming and name calling can really hurt. What hurts the most is that the kids are more aware now. This hurts because I wonder how my son will learn to treat women; how will my daughter allow the men in her life to treat her? I kid myself into thinking that they are learning conflict resolution. Tomorrow he won't remember half of what he said, and I am really good at letting things slide. By the weekend we will be civil and the argument will be all but forgotten. Sure Mommy and Daddy yell and scream, but when the dust settles they are still there for each other. I learned at an early age about "keeping up appearances" and it has served me well.

Why do I put up with it? There are a couple of reasons. Most importantly is that he loves his children. He would do anything for them. Apparently this means sticking with me through this miserable existence. I guess that's also the biggest thing we have in common. The second reason is mainly financial. I think we would both agree that if we could afford to live in separate households we would. Since there is no infidelity and no abuse there is really no reason pushing us to live apart.

We get along sometimes. Mainly when we are enjoying the accomplishments of the children. With the exception of our son's involvement in the Young Marines they are usually achievements he hears about second hand. I don't fault him for that. He makes it to the important ones if work responsibilities don't interfere. This is the curse of being a daddy.

I gladly sacrifice my happiness to give my children everything I never had, a two parent household with parents that hold their children's interests above their own. I've made it this far and through far worse than this. They are the greater good and I will honor my vow of "through good times and in bad". I've been through worse.

Bottomless Pit

Things are bad. Things are really bad. I keep waiting for things to turn around and start improving, but I don't think there is a bottom. What's the problem? Money.

We are broke. We are broker than broke. I'm not really sure how it got this bad. I know it has to do with the mismanagement of my severance package and the 6 months it took me to find a job with a comparable salary.

All of our credit cards are out of commission so it's paycheck to paycheck. Well, we are actually a few paychecks behind. I live in fear of the repo man because I'm scared to find out how far we are behind on the car notes. The transmission might be going out on one and the other needs new tires.

Twenty years ago, at pre-martial counseling, the minister shook his head upon discovering that neither of us was good with money. Strangely enough that's not what we really fight about. Come to think of it we never really talk about money. I guess that's because it doesn't ever a discussion about what to do, but of whose to blame. He still has the his and hers mentality. After almost 20 years you would think somethings would be ours.

We are both really bad about not denying the kids a lot of things. Not necessarily material things, but also opportunities. That's mostly my fault. I was never given any opportunities to do things and experience things. If they have an interest in a sport or activity I can't say no.

I don't pay bills....I pay cut-off notices and reconnect fees. The really sad thing is we only owe about $25,ooo and that includes a few credit cards and the balances on both car notes. It's like drowning within site of the shore.