I remember where I was and who I was talking to the first time I spoke the words “I don’t think I even love him anymore”; In the kitchen with my best friend. Saying those words was both scary and a relief. I said it. Now what.

I didn’t do much about it for the longest time. It’s a sad realization, having married the wrong person. But, with wedding vows you took seriously and three small kids in the mix, divorce didn’t really seem like an option. At least not at that point.

We discussed his drinking numerous times. I told him how it made me feel to play second fiddle to a case of beer. He minimized it. Said I was just trying to control him. He would try to prove his point by saying that he held down a job, helped coach our son’s team sports…I was just making a big deal over nothing.

But I was very angry, hurt and confused. Like the mouse in the maze who gets to the dead end and is just stuck. There’s no way out of this. We fight about it a lot but it’s mostly just me giving him the silent treatment. One time for four weeks, if you can imagine. Living in the same house, parenting three kids and I didn’t say a word unless it involved the kids for four weeks.

There were times I hoped he’d die. There was one time I wanted to actually kill him. We were coming home from a family day at the lake, driving down a winding, steep road. He was way too drunk to drive, even though it was only about four pm. I was so embarrassed of how he was acting in front of the kids. The two older ones were old enough to see his behavior and realize it wasn’t normal.

I was so exasperated. Why did he have to do this? Why did he have to drink so much on a family outing. On a Sunday afternoon. I didn’t like the kids seeing him this way and he just wouldn’t shut up, he thought everything was funny, especially himself.

An evil thought entered my head, all I need to do is reach across him and open his door on the next sharp curve and have him go falling out. That’s all it would take and he’d be permanently out of my life.

I realize it makes me sound like a really terrible person to even consider that, but desperation can push you to limits you’ve never known before.

I’m happy I didn’t do it, I would never want to take the kids’ dad away from them and leave them with all of that hurt and sorrow. Very selfish of me to even entertain such thoughts. But I did.

I didn’t like living with someone who got so drunk he consistently urinated on the bedroom floor in the night, or in our bed. I didn’t like being with someone who drank so much at Christmas parties he was asked to leave. I didn’t like having a husband who would raise his fist to me when I confronted his drunk ass about being so drunk.

At a certain point I decide revenge would be some great medicine. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. So I get myself a social life. I start going out. Staying out late. Staying out one time until six am. See what it’s like husband? See how this feels? Does this bother you at all?

Good…