Will he stop?

Will he stop drinking?  I don’t have the answer to that question and that is where I have a problem.  I am not perfect and love to have control.  I don’t want to be so much in control that I tell the love of my life everything he can and can’t do, but when it comes to the consumption of alcohol I wish I could do just that. 

Last night I picked Jack up from work and we did a bunch of errands on the way home.  He broke his finger and we needed to get him a splint from the local drug store.  After a couple of hours we wound our way home.  At this time I was ready to get dinner ready and Jack had said he was tired and was heading up for some much needed rest. 

Well I guess it was too much to hope for that he was just going to head up without a thought of drinking.  He opened the drawer and reached for the corkscrew.  I shot him a look that I know I shouldn’t have but I’m tired.  Tired of watching this beautiful man sabotage himself.  While I was waiting for the excuses to start I got the other Jack (the pissed off at the world) Jack.  He threw the corkscrew into the drawer and mumbled something and marched upstairs.

This of coarse makes me very nervous and edgy and I knew this was the beginning of a not so happy evening.  Everything ran through my mind in a quick second.  I thought about the excuses that were about to come, but they didn’t. One might say that this may have only been him drinking one glass of wine. I know better than that and we already had a weekend filled with drinking. 

He didn’t really consume a lot of booze over the weekend but he drank from Friday to Sunday. He even made the excuse Sunday that he should buy a twelve pack in case my uncle came over.  Instead he drank the whole thing.  Was that his intention from the get go?  Most likely.

On Saturday night we had a dinner with his boss and some of his co-workers.  One of those co-workers happen to be his childhood friend.  This man has to be the worst person for Jack.  When Jack had completely quit drinking this man (Shorty) literally walked up to Jack put the beer bottle under his nose and asked him if he missed it.  In my opinion, not a friend I would want in my life. 

Shorty was at this dinner on Saturday night and all was going well until Jack was sitting at the table beer-less.  He had only had two at the point and was pacing himself because I straight up asked him to please stay sober.  Shorty of coarse is a drunk too and we all know misery loves company and leans over to ask Jack if he wants a beer.  Jack didn’t immediately answer so Shorty continues to ask about five times.

At this point I had enough and I know I shouldn’t have but I looked right into Shorty’s eyes and asked him if he was a pusher.  I asked him this as many times as he asked Jack if he wanted a beer. Yes I lowered myself to acting like a child but it felt great.  I followed up with calling him a loser so that only he could hear me.

To follow is a small excerpt from a continuous letter that I have been typing to Jack for a few months.  I may never give this to him but for me it is somehow very cleansing.

Our final chapter.

It is with the deepest sadness that I am typing you this letter. I feel our run is over and I am saddened to the core. I don’t want to leave you but I feel I am running out of options. Tonight I did give you a look for grabbing the cork screw but you have drank from Friday to Sunday and skipped Monday….. I guess the breaks are getting fewer and further between. I can see it written all over your face that you are completely done with me and would rather be with the booze. I am so sad right now I don’t even think I could possibly make you understand. All I wanted to do was talk to you and tell you how I feel but you don’t really want to hear it. You say you want me to tell you everything obviously that doesn’t include the discussion of alcohol.  I still know that you are the love of my life but I can’t stand by and watch you drink yourself to death, it’s slowly killing me inside.

I am running out of options and don’t want to give ultimatums it feels very immature.  I am not really sure if I am going to actually give this letter to him or this is as I said before my release, my way of talking because apparently I can’t talk to him.  Not about this.

 

Beckie