My husband had a career in the military, which meant that from the age of 19 to only a few years ago (I'm 46), I moved about every two years. For over two decades I would set up housing in a place and try to quickly make friends, only to be taken from them after a very short time. We'd always discussed retiring in Florida, but before we looked at condos, we first had to look at Florida alcohol rehab centers. I would never dream of blaming my husband for my alcoholism. He was a rock when I was battling dependency, and stuck by me every step of the way; however, I think depression and loneliness, however unintended on his part, led me to rely on alcohol for comfort.
By the time he realized that I wasn't happy, and that I really wanted to stay in one place, there was nothing he could really do. We'd already moved six times and we were on our way to number seven when I finally told him how I felt. We were in Ohio, and he suggested that I stay behind and find a nice house in which we could settle down when he retired. I didn't want to be away from him all that time and thought it was better if we stuck together. He agreed and we moved again. By this time I had already started drinking pretty heavily during the day.
My drinking progressed through the years, but my husband never knew a thing about it. It would have killed him. So I'd wait until he'd leave for extended periods to really let go. Alcohol became the one constant in my life. It got to the point where I didn't even bother to fit in anymore. Everything was temporary...except alcohol. Later, I learned when I was in my Florida alcohol rehab center, how damaging misplacing my anger and depression could be, and how it directly contributed to my problem.
About six years ago, around Christmas time, my husband came home a week early and found me curled up at the foot of our bed, clutching a bottle of tequila and crying. He was shocked and confused. After vomiting for what seemed like years, I told him once again how I hated moving around so much and how I was upset that we never had children. I pretty much blamed him for everything but stealing the Lindbergh baby. After seeing what this life was doing to me, my husband immediately started researching Florida alcohol rehab centers and arranged for me to get help right away. His plan was that after I got well, he'd retire, and we'd just stay in Florida.
It's been five years since I've had a drink. I'm grateful that my husband came in and found me at my worst that day. His decision that day to get me the help I needed, combined with all his love and support, has made all the difference in my turning my life around.