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  • wrenrwaters

3 A.M. Thoughts

It's been five years since my mother passed away in my arms.

I miss her beyond words.

I'm sitting up listening to sad songs.

Willing myself to cry.

But the tears don't come.

No that they aren't there.

But the body doesn't know how to shut down just some grief, some tears.

When it starts shutting that stuff down, it shuts it all down.

I am in such darkness these days.

I hate.

Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE this life with an alcoholic.

I have failed.

I have failed beyond what I ever thought I would fail.

Failed myself, my life, my children.

I can't believe this is the environment I raised them in.

They are almost grown now.

Not much longer.

And they will be on their own.

What will they remember?

The toilet in our bathroom was leaking from the back somewhere.

My husband fixed it last week.

Still water behind the toilet.

I said to him, "do you know the toilet is still leaking?"


(I didn't make the toilet leak.)

He comes upstairs, throws a plate in the sink and storms off to the bathroom.

Will that be their memory?

Anger? Hostility? Volatility?

After he went to bed, the kids and I sat in the dining room discussing nothing in particular, doodling on paper, trying their hand at cursive writing, laughing.

Is that what they will remember?

Moments of simple nothingness that were pure. Sweet. Joyful.

I didn't realize how much my mother stood in for my spouse.

Moments of simple nothingness I am grateful for.

I remember when Kate and William (aka the duke and duchess) got married.

It started at like 4 am or so USA time.

My mother told me to call her to make sure she was up.

We sat up separately, together.

Calling each other periodically to ask, "Did you see that? Do you like her dress?"

At 5:30 am my husband was leaving for work.

He said, "I can't believe you got up for this."

I said, "I'm waiting for the kiss."

He said, "Why? It will be replayed 100 times over."

He left.

I told myself I was being foolish and allowed myself to fall asleep. Missing the kiss.

My mother called.

"Did you see The Kiss?"

"No, I fell asleep."

"Oh, I'm sorry..."

Odd memory.

The juxtaposition of someone who "got me" with someone who dismissed me.

No one talks about the fact that when you're trying to manage marriage to an alcoholic, it's not in a vacuum. Life doesn't pause the rest of its stuff for you. Things happen. Mothers and fathers die.

Where are you tonight, friend?

In the darkness?

I remember the first time I sat up crying over his drinking.

The first time I was called a fucking bitch and told to shut the fuck up, etc., etc.

I couldn't get my head around what had just happened.

I don't think you ever do.

I wish I had something to offer those finding themselves now, awake, at 3 am, trying to grasp what is happening to their lives, in their marriage.

What would I have wanted to hear that first night of mine?

I don't know.

It gets worse?

Certainly not.

But it does so protect yourself.

Seek out those who get you, not dismiss you.

Find the simple moments of nothingness.

Try not to let your tears dry up.

Your heart harden.

Your soul crumble.

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I have been married to my alcoholic husband for over 20 years now. (So hard to believe and comprehend where that time went.) I have felt SO MANY things in these years of marriage. Disbelief. Rage.

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