After a few weeks, I was slowly adjusting to this new normal. I will say that after I took my last sip of alcohol (mouthwash) in the bathroom of my attorney’s office, it was fairly easy for me to stop drinking. I remember the following day being in the hotel room with my parents and thinking about going downstairs to the front desk to ask if they had a toothbrush and mouthwash because I “forgot” mine. My parents wouldn’t let me go anywhere by myself, so that was the only thing I could come up with. But somehow, I decided I wouldn’t, and I fell asleep instead. I woke up the next morning, and the obsession was gone. And I am being completely honest when I say I have never had the same obsession or craving to drink ever since. This is truly only by God’s hand and not at all something I did on my own. After all, I’m an alcoholic. I can’t just stop drinking on my own. And I hadn’t gotten any sort of therapy or gone to AA yet. It was ALL God, and I am so incredibly thankful. (Of course, I do have the occasional craving from time to time, but it lasts for a mere second or two. I’ll talk more about that another time.)
Once I started going to AA and therapy, my mind felt so much clearer. However, with that, I had to face the reality of the situation – that I was actually the main reason my marriage fell apart, not my husband. And yes, for the record, he was still partly to blame. He was a pretty lousy husband at this point, and he has owned up to his part in all of this. But it was becoming more and more obvious that I was primarily at fault here. If I hadn’t been drunk all the time, my husband probably wouldn’t have been so upset and frustrated all the time. Plus, I was lying to him, so he wasn’t even privy to all of the details when I would pick fights or not get stuff done around the house. I honestly don’t know how he put up with it for so long. Or how he didn’t find out sooner.
I do believe that as Christians, we make a vow to our spouse and to God to stay with the other person through sickness and in health. And alcoholism is absolutely a sickness. So I don’t completely agree with everything that Thomas did in terms of filing for divorce. However, he was also trying to protect our son, so he needed to take that into account. If there were to be a “right” way to do it, I think he probably should have helped me get help. I think there are probably other things he could have done, such as staged an intervention or forced me to go to rehab. I think going straight to divorce was extreme and probably not what God would have wanted.
BUT (and this is a big BUT), I truly believe that it doesn’t matter. I also truly believe that God was there, through it all, and every single second and every single detail was in the presence of God. Would He have done things differently? Maybe. Did He still work all things for our good and His glory? ABSOLUTELY. So as tempting as it is to play the “if only” game, I wholeheartedly believe that what happened, happened, and the “how” really doesn’t matter.
Anyways, back to the story. I was in the shower one night, probably about 4 or 5 weeks after everything started. I was praying to God, as I often do in the shower. I thought back to the drink I had at my friend’s house. I thought back to the glass that shattered on the curb. I thought back to the bottle of wine I had in my car as I was handed the divorce papers in the parking lot at work. I thought back through everything. And I thought about where I was right in that moment. Separated from my husband. An alcoholic. I lost custody of my son. My whole life was ruined. Completely ruined. And in that moment, the weight of it all came crashing down on me.
I thought being served those divorce papers was rock bottom. But no. This. This was rock bottom. In that moment, I don’t think I could have felt any worse. Words can’t describe how I felt. I felt like a boulder was just crushing me physically and emotionally. I felt like my life was over and all I could see was darkness. I felt like my tears couldn’t come out fast enough. I felt like hopelessness and helplessness didn’t even begin to describe the complete and utter despair. Shame. Guilt. Pain. It was all there.
And that was also the moment when I let go.
I fell down in the fetal position, there on the floor in the shower. Sobbing. I cried out, “Take it God. Take it all. Whatever you want, just take it. It’s Yours. I don’t want it anymore. Please. I can’t carry it anymore. Take this from me. My marriage. My life. Please, God. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, God. Please. I need You. I need You. I need You.”
And He was there. He held me. He wrapped His tender, loving arms around me. He didn’t say anything. And I whispered, “Thy will be done.”
To God be ALL the Glory!
Love, Grace
