Married to an Alcoholic

Some of the things I’ve been writing happened throughout my marriage over an 8-year span. While I was going through some old paperwork, I found a letter I’d written to Bear two years into our marriage. Everything I said in the letter were exactly the same problems we had over and over that ultimately ended it five years later. Even during counseling, the real issues never completely came out, and since we were only allowed so many sessions, it became useless. We’d gone to counseling twice as a family, and during one of the sessions, Bear got up in the middle of it and started yelling and walked out, leaving myself, my child, and the counselor sitting there looking at each other in awe and asking ‘what the fuck just happened?’ But that was typical of him when it came to serious discussions that involved talking about his own actions. 

Anytime I tried to discuss things, he’d pretend nothing was wrong, he’d refuse to talk about it unless he had a couple of drinks, or turned everything around on me instead of discussing what we were actually talking about, which usually led to another argument or me suppressing more feelings. Bear took offense to me telling him how I felt instead of trying to resolve issues, and he basically told me in so many words that my feelings were invalid. I learned to pretty much keep my mouth shut for the most part, but sometimes I just can’t, and let things build up until I explode. Anything you suppress will work its way out in some way eventually. 

At times I felt like I was like dealing with a teenaged boy. I had a hard time verbally expressing my feelings as it was (always have), because writing them seems to get across so much better; I can organize exactly what I want to say without saying the wrong thing; plus, no one is interrupting me and making me lose my thoughts. I’d written a letter prior to this one telling Bear how I felt about something that happened, he opened it, barely took a look at it, and crumpled it. To me, that was crumpling up my feelings and saying what I felt or said didn’t matter, and I felt that way during the majority of the marriage. This only added to the building of resentment I was having towards him. After reading this letter that I’d written thirteen years ago, I realized that I couldn’t talk to Bear about a lot of things that couples should be able to discuss. Sex was nothing we ever discussed except for the fact that he wanted it more than I did, but that was part of the fact that he did nothing to turn me on and expected me to get turned on instantly like women do in porn, because that’s what porn falsely teaches men. Pressuring me also didn’t help, because then I felt like it was an obligation, and that felt unnatural and gross to me. 

Talking about my past with Bear was unheard of, and I never knew why, except maybe out of his possessiveness and jealousy. I believe this is due to the fact that his “best friend” (a bitchy female that didn’t know me at all) told him some bullshit rumors when we met. (This turned out to be another huge issue for me – him believing other people instead of coming to me – his wife.) There were times Bear acted like I didn’t have a past prior to meeting him (remember, I met him during the worst time of my life), as if I was floating along the river and he magically came into my life and saved me, and he had even implied that several times. Always patting himself on the back and making himself out to be the hero, he’d even bragged that the last woman he’d gone down on prior to meeting me turned into a lesbian, because he was that good at it. The truth was, he wasn’t good at it whatsoever, nor was he a good kisser; he was terrible at it (no wonder she “turned” lesbian), and I told him I’d rather just fuck. He wasn’t interested in role play, even refused to wear his uniform, and only wanted sex in the bedroom. There was absolutely nothing creative about it at all unless I came up with it. Therefore, his bragging and patting himself on the back was a complete turnoff. 

Another turnoff was the way he was treating me in general. Bear wasn’t acting like the sweet guy that I’d fallen in love with at all. He was completely insecure because he was overweight (yet did nothing about it) and accused me of not being attracted to him because of it, but it was a lot more than that. I accepted him for who he was, and he was overweight when I met him. I don’t care what someone looks like, if he’s doing things to turn me off, he’s unattractive, period. Plus, he paid more attention to the television than to his wife, so that didn’t turn me on, either. 

Even though I’d considered Bear to be more of a man than anyone else I’d dated before him, there were many times I’d question who he was, because he sulked like a child when he didn’t get his way. If you’re a mother or you’ve been around children enough, you can probably imagine the face of a pouting three-year-old. That’s what Bear looked like to me, and with his body weight and bald head and childish behavior, he started to remind me of a giant baby – and that was definitely not a turn-on! I’d written about the first crying fit he had shortly after we were married: First Turn-off – The Big Baby. 

For whatever reason, one Christmas didn’t go his way, a party wasn’t as fun as he’d hoped or something really fucking stupid. Bear sulked like a child, and when I asked what was wrong, he’d reply, “Nothing.” It was like he was the big baby man-child hoping to get more gifts from Santa and didn’t; we weren’t a family to give big, extravagant gifts (lucky to get something from the Dollar Store). He’d spoken negatively of my family in front of other people, which wasn’t cool with me, because it happened to be one of my better years with my family. There were times my child and I would look at each other like ‘what the fuck?’ because Bear would act weirdly childish and aggressive, yelling out loud about something, but we’d never know what the problem was. His behavior, along with his size added to it, would scare my kid and the dog; it would piss me off and even more than ever, turned me off. 

This was probably also around the time I started realizing that Bear wasn’t happy with anything, no matter what, even when he got his way. We were living in the house he had to have, and when we looked at some other really nice homes way out of our league, he got upset and threw a fit, saying our house was a piece of shit. (It wasn’t; as a matter of fact, it’s one of the nicest houses I’ve ever lived in.) At some point he actually said he hoped it went down in a sinkhole, and I reminded him to be careful what he wishes for, that this was our home, and I don’t believe we have sinkhole insurance. He literally got everything he asked for one way or another, and like a child with a new toy, was bored or wanted something newer and better after a short time. Or decided it isn’t what he wanted after all and sulked at the lack of satisfaction it brought. And that’s when I began to wonder if I was just another thing he wanted and got his way, and now he’s bored with me, too. 

Here is a portion of the letter: 

I am sick of the way you have been acting. It is NOT attractive to me. It is NOT a turn on to me at all. How many times have I tried to tell you that? It’s not about the way you look, it’s about how you ACT. It’s not about sex, it’s not about this person or that person – it is about how you ACT. The insecurity is not attractive whatsoever. So when you act all weird towards me, or you get shit-faced drunk, and then come up to me and start groping me, getting in my face and kissing me, pinch my nipples, try to take my clothes off, etc… do you think that’s going to make me want you? And the times before when you have gotten drunk and things have gotten out of hand, I am just not over. It has completely turned me off. All I can think about is the next time you get too drunk and it happens again. I am not going to live my life like my mother. 

Perhaps Bear learned from porn how to act towards women, as well. But the alcohol was the bigger problem: “All I can think about is the next time you get too drunk and it happens again.”

Typical on a weekend, Bear started drinking mid to late afternoon and didn’t stop until he was shitfaced. Drinking was the activity every single weekend for a while, and all of his “friends” were drinking buddies, not people I would consider real friends. At that point in my life, I wanted more than just weekend binge drinking. I needed fulfillment, and as a partner, I thought we would grow together. But it wasn’t turning out that way. I felt that I was growing spiritually, and he was holding me back of being my best. He had no desire to better himself, which bothered me. 

The first big and bad argument that effected me the most made me run from the house. Bear had been drinking all night with his best drinking buddy, a guy he worked with that lived behind us with his wife and kids. I cannot recall at all what the argument was about, but when we got back to the house, he cornered me with his body in our walk-in closet, screaming in my face about something, and I thought he was going to hit me. There were also guns in the closet within reach. He was so much bigger than me, and I was scared to death. I managed to escape and run to the neighbor’s and told the wife what happened (her drunk hubby was already passed out). 

I wasn’t sure what to do; it was really late, like midnight, and I was tired. We waited a little bit and looked out the window, watching Bear’s truck driving by, obviously looking for me. That’s when I decided to run home and lock myself in our spare room for the rest of the night.

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