But at that moment, in the end, I still loved her, still wished it had worked out for us. I still felt the dream we had written for our future. But somewhere along the path, we both turned away from the relationship and towards our previous dysfunctions. I was sad. She was drinking. And we were going out separate ways.
I am not a doctor. I am not a therapist. What I did learn over time: her drinking was taking a hefty toll on my emotional and spiritual livelihood. If your drinking is an issue in your relationship, you may have a drinking problem.
If she drinks the third glass I begin looking for what I'm going to do that evening when she's fallen asleep. If she asks for water, my mind enters into a different set of fantasies that involve her participation. The real joy is that we've had this discussion.
Alone, I am still somewhat of a hungry animal. I contemplate calling my recent ex more frequently than I'd like to imagine. It's a similar story to my previous relationship. Perhaps we can just get our physical needs met without worrying too much about the relationship or the future.
So the passive-aggressive way to ask me to join her for a drink would've been to ask if I wanted a drink. But typically I say no to that question because a "drink" is rarely what I'm thinking of.
A cocktail at the end of a rough day is an understandable indulgence. If it becomes routine, you might be coping for parts of your life that are out of…
I forgive my father for his alcoholism. I don't forgive alcoholism. And in my adult life, I can't maintain a relationship (romantic or professional) with someone who drinks heavily. It's not good for me.
I have been in relationships where drinking was more a part of our fabric. I was more of a drinker in college, and I recall many a buzzed afternoon on my roof deck enjoying some summer rum punch. Today, that sounds awful, but it's not because I don't like a buzz every now and then.