My bottom was a year go.... we were expecting a nice little tax return and we (i say we, but you know it was only me getting excited) were planning a first proper family vacation - a cruise. (an alcoholic on a cruise? was I nuts?) anyway, I thought it would be lovely, blah blah.
So anyway he did his taxes on the sunday and didnt go to work and went on a bender for next 3 days. Financially I didnt know how so I checked his account and found out that he had got paid some of the tax return right away and had spent alomost 2 grand! in 3 days!
That same day, the guys who lived down the street had to knock on my door and carry him up the stairs because they found him passed out down the block and were worried someone would call the cops. (this was not a usual occurrence for him so it was especially hard to see this)
2 days later he did go into rehab, at my insistence. I was supportive but the damage was done, it was like he had just ripped out the last chunk of my soul.
When he came home, he was drinking again within 2 weeks. In a way I was glad because I wanted to go. I was done. I felt guilty because I thought maybe in my own way he drank again becasue he FELT the love was already gone when he got home. But you know what, I just felt I was in my own warped game of tennis and I just wanted to stop playing.
And once my mind was made up, that was it. And I would often say to him (not as a threat, but as a fact) that he was just killing me bit by bit and when there was nothing left, I would not stay and I would not be back. Dont think he believed it. He does now
