I don’t drink.

It’s not that I have a problem with alcohol. I’m not an alcoholic.

I just mostly choose not to drink.

I was never good at it anyway. It didn’t taste good. I never knew what to order. I didn’t understand wines or beers or which concoctions normally get mixed together. But now?

I don’t drink because alcohol and drugs nearly killed my husband. It nearly broke EVERYTHING I had. My marriage. My family. My beautiful future.

I guess that means I DO have a problem with alcohol. Except it wasn’t me who drank.

I’m sure now if I wanted a glass of wine out for dinner, he wouldn’t bat an eye. He’s over 11 years clean and sober. I just don’t want to, really.

Alcohol reminds me of ‘the bottom.’

Years ago, I stood at ‘the bottom’ with my husband.

‘The bottom’ felt like the scariest dark pit imaginable. As wide across as the Grand Canyon. As deep too. And dank and musty and cold. All I could decipher down there in the darkness were bottles of pills from God knows who that were empty in a day or two and endless lies and hard liquor hidden in the garage and thousands of dollars in credit card debt I wasn’t aware of and sadness and aluminum cans fashioned into pipes and gambling and felony charges and 5 years of probation and pain.

So much pain.

A pit of terrifying pain down there at ‘the bottom.’

Rock bottom.

And the hardest part was…we were down there together, my husband and I, but we couldn’t find each other in the dark. It was so big and so deep and so wide. Sometimes I called out to him, and I think he heard. But his reply seemed so far away. I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t come to him. I couldn’t reach him. We just fumbled around down there in the dark. Each of us…alone.

I’d catch a glimpse of him sometimes and be shocked by his appearance. I noticed he lost about 20 pounds. I noticed his face was covered in pick marks. And he smelled like chemicals and poison sweating out through his pores. He couldn’t seem to hold his arms still. He couldn’t sleep. And his eyes looked vacant. And lost. Then, just as soon as I’d catch a glimpse, he’d be gone. Off on his own draped in shame. Back to fumbling through that pit with his hands outstretched in the dark. He never could see me down there with him. He didn’t know I was there. He thought he was all alone.

It was so incredibly painful to realize…I couldn’t save him.

Then finally one day in despair, I reached up my hands. Reached them up way over my head like a child reaching to be picked up. And I cried out “Help! Heeeeelp!!! Oh please, won’t you save me?? I’m down here!! HEEEEELP!!!” Then I fell to my knees, sobbing. Broken and sad and lonely and lost and so utterly and completely alone I whispered a desperate plea to God, “I’m giving this to You. I’m giving this to You. I’m giving this to You.”

Over and over and over and over.

Until suddenly I felt a big strong comforting hand reach down and pluck me from the bottom.

LOVE pulled me right out of that deep dark lonely pit.

God saved me.

I didn’t know at the time, but my husband gave up too. He reached up JUST like I did. He called out in despair. He surrendered. And that same loving hand pulled him out of the pit.

We landed on opposite sides of the Grand Canyon.

Miles and miles apart.

And somehow over weeks and months and years, LOVE showed us the way home. We stumbled and tripped and prayed and fell and crawled and clawed our way back together again.

One day at a time.

Alllllll the way around the rim of the canyon, we reunited from that pit of pain and destruction…from ‘the bottom’ that alcohol and drugs flung us into.

Now his eyes twinkle with life…

And I choose not to drink.

I don’t even miss it.

I like it out here in the sun.

With him ❤

***Please note, my situation never ever ever involved abuse and I never felt unsafe with my husband. If you find yourself in a situation of physical or mental abuse please know help is available to you. Your safety and the safety of your children is your biggest concern. You are not alone. Seek help.***