A woman makes a decision. Hands clasped before her, eyes closed, she whispers into the stillness of the night.
Does my husband know what it feels like watching him self-destruct, worshipping the glass god, a bottle?
Does he know what it feels like to have a sinking pit in my stomach, wondering, will this day be different? Is this the day he’ll stop drinking?
Does he know what it feels like worrying about our friends, wondering what they think of him? How he spoke with me that day in front of them? Are they talking behind our backs? Has he said something offensive or hurt them in any way? To know what it feels like making excuses for him?
Does he know what it feels like wondering what I’m doing wrong? Was it something I said that pushed him that day? To hear words pour forth from him like poison, knowing it isn’t really him talking, but the demons in his tortured soul.
Does he know what it feels like to hope this might be the day he stops drinking. He’s promised so many times before. I even watched him pour the whole bottle down the drain. To have hope, but feel it dashed away when he picks up that one drink.
Does he know what it feels like sitting back at events, watching and waiting, not enjoying one moment as I count the drinks he’s having. To worry if this may be the time he goes too far and I have to explain why I’m driving home yet again. To answer his questions, ones he won’t even remember the next day.
Does he know how close I’ve been to leaving, giving up and letting go?
Does he know what it feels like when I cry into my pillow night after night? Shedding a trail of hot tears and clutching the blanket in my fist while I scream silently out to God in the lateness of the hour.
Does he know what it feels like holding these feelings in day after day with nobody to tell, with shame, fear and silence as my constant companions?
She cries out from her very soul. A feeling begins to wash over her.
A bible verse comes to her and with it, a promise.
Rising to her feet, the whole armor of God upon her, she knows she can go on.