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Date Posted: 10:22:58 03/08/07 Thu
Author: Nanette
Subject: Flip side of the coin

My husband came home drunk last night. This is an unusual and rare occurrence. At first I was concerned because he had driven the car home. Not only had he driven the car home but he drove a friend home first before coming home. When he got home he barely managed to get himself through the door and could hardly stand. He was incredibly lucky to be able to make it. He was late home but he hadn't stayed to closing. So, he got home around the time the rest of us were going to bed. When we got in bed he couldn't really tell me about the evening and started feeling bad almost right away, both physically and emotionally. Essentially they had just stayed in a bar drinking for about 6 hours.
While I was laying there next to him (sober), listening to him and trying to read my book at the same time, I experienced a lot of different feelings. (Though not as intensely as if I had been drinking.) I was a bit irritated that he had been so inebriated that he made the choice to take that dangerous drive, as well as being irritated that he was a little dificult to understand as things didn't quite make sense, and of course, there was the smell. At the same time I realized this must have been what it was like for him when I was drinking, and felt a little empathy, as well as sympathy with and for him.
He got up right after we had turned the lights out and went into the bathroom to drive the porcelain bus. I couldn’t sleep through that, although I tried not to listen and focus on going to sleep.
This morning he felt like hell, and an ass, and was fighting not to be too hard on himself for drinking way too much. He had to go to work. He knew it was going to be a long day, and anticipated that part of tomorrow he may still be tired from his foray.
In the past whenever he’s drank that much, which wasn’t very often, I was as drunk or more so, than he. I can count on one hand how many times he’s actually been more inebriated than I. So, of course, when I was drinking a lot more often, he was experiencing just what I had last night. The difference being, he had to go through it much more often. And that is understated.
It was an interesting experience. I think I may have a slightly better appreciation of what I put my family through all that time. All the worry and unavailability, simply because I couldn’t get it together enough to even talk very much when was that drunk, let alone put together more coherent thoughts. All the restlessness while trying to sleep because the music was too loud late at night. Probably some of the odd sounds they may have heard because I accidentally feel onto a hard piece of furniture, or knocked something over, wondering if I was going to be ok but irritated by my behavior.
Sheesh! It must have been tough.
But, they don’t really say anything now about those days. Maybe, just like I didn’t know what to tell my husband this morning when he knew he was going to feel sick all day. He was right. It was a dumb thing to do. What can you say to that?

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