This week’s HTYH is a continuation of Larcine’s story: I ended up getting married a month after my son was born. That way, I could say that I was not pregnant when we got married. I liked to make myself look good and so if anybody asked, I said that we didn’t have to get married even though our baby was at our wedding. It’s ok today if people know my secret because I’ve long since written it down, and inventoried it with God and another human being. A problem shared is a problem resolved.
I never said one word about Butch’s out-of-control drinking and drugging while we were dating but after we married, things changed. I clearly remembered what my mother went through because of Dad’s manic drinking; she gave him the silent treatment, but that didn’t work. I took a different tack with Butch and got very vocal about his alcoholism and drug use. Butch would’ve paid a million dollars for the silent treatment instead of hearing his little wife cursing at him like a longshoreman. I was like a little dog that never stopped barking and as soon as he walked through the door I started barking. I used every profane four-letter word known to man and at the top of my lungs. I mistakenly thought if I used enough curse words in the right order, he would have a spiritual awakening and change, but it never happened. I don’t know where I got such an idea, it was more of that information from nowhere, but not one time did it work.
From the beginning of our marriage he didn’t come home after work and I couldn’t understand it. I mistakenly thought things would change after we married. I thought that I was going to fix him with my love, take care of him and live happy ever after but it got worse. The harder I tried to fix him the worse it got; he wouldn’t stay in one spot long enough for me to fix him.
I finally got him to see a counselor and I went with him. The therapist asked him if he was a bar drinker or a home drinker? I answered for him and said, “He’s a bar drinker!” Butch said, “That’s because she nags; I can’t drink at home without her nagging at me!” It was war; it was the red army against the blue army. We had only been married a month and the first words out of my mouth every morning were, “Are you going to work today?” He pretended to go to work every morning, but after I went to work he came back home, rolled a joint and fixed a drink. The game was on. I’d come home for lunch unannounced, but he suspected I was coming home so he would disappear until I went back to work after lunch. Then I got sneaky, I’d leave the T.V. Guide closed after lunch and find it open when I came home after work. “Ah ha, you didn’t fool anybody schmuck, you were home this afternoon, but you left before I got home.” Butch knew my schedule better than I did and it was really hard to catch him.
I couldn’t understand what his problem was because the day after we were married I sat him down at our kitchen table and clearly explained my rules to him. I even tried to teach him how to drink, I said, “Just have one drink and then stop, but that didn’t work either. He seemed pathetic and weak because after he took one drink he had to keep on going until he ran out of money, passed out, or scored more drugs; it was a vicious cycle. Every day he said he would quit but every day he bought more. I tried to tell him there was more to life than partying, we had a child, responsibilities, and we needed to buy a house, but he kept right on blowing his money on drugs and alcohol.