I don’t know what the difference is between being in rehab single and being in rehab married. Thankfully, this is my first experience in rehab and hopefully also my last.
I am married, and this is what I know:
- I was a terrible wife before I got here.
- I may or may not be married much longer once I get out.
- Worrying about these things is distracting me from working on me, and that’s the point of rehab.
- My wife is awesome so it’s really, really difficult to not worry about these things.
I think anyone who ends up in rehab has a fairly long list of people they’ve disappointed/hurt. I know I do.
I know I have a family who loves me, who is worried about me, and shelling out big bucks to see me get healthy. They are stuck with me and I am stuck with them.
I don’t take them for granted, but I know they will still love me at the end of this ride.
I also know I have friends who are rooting for me, are supporting me, and have sent me a steady stream of text messages and animated GIFs to keep my spirits up.
They are proud of me for checking myself in here, and have been largely sheltered from my alcohol-fuel antics. The nasty ones, anyway. I am pretty sure most of them have seen my bad dancing and heard my loud out of tune singing.
I don’t think I have offended any of my friends enough that they would turn their backs on me, though I have had my fair share of blackouts, so I can’t say this with 100% certainty.
But my wife. My poor, beautiful wife…
She has endured a good half dozen hospitalizations, detoxes, ruined weekends and too many broken promises I made to stop.
She is under no obligation to stay by my side because I can’t promise I will never relapse. I have done enough damage that she might turn her back on me, and I will have deserved it.
And I have to try and push that all out of my mind because this won’t work if I’m doing it for someone else.
I have to forget about it because this is my journey. It’s my happiness I have to chase, not hers.
I have to give myself, and her, space and time to recover even though I miss her terribly.
It sucks, but that’s what I get for being a twat.
If nothing else, I can honestly say I’ve learned how not to be a good wife. This is of little consolation to either myself or my missus, and I can’t really find it in me to make any jokes about it either.
All I can say is that if you’re reading this, are drinking too much and are married, you are most definitely being a twat.
Stop it now before it is too late and you have to spend 28 days trying to fend off wave after wave of regret in order to get yourself sorted out.
This is no way to learn how to be a good spouse, but it is an excellent way to drive yourself absolutely insane.