I am feeling sadness and heartache. I am feeling anger I do not want to recognize. He has done it again. He has lied to my face. I no longer get angry about the drinking. I believe a part of me has accepted that it is him, take it or leave it. He may change, but I cannot put my eggs in that basket any longer. I believe that my pain comes not from the liquid, but the acts that brought it to his mouth. The deceit. He lies to me about his reasons for visiting friends and family. He makes promises that he knows will never be kept. I really wish he wouldn't. Every time he promises, against my better judgement, a small part of me believes things will be different. I am left looking like a fool.

This last "indiscretion" was cloaked in flattery. Darling you do so much around here. I'll take the bottles to the redemption center. Don't you even worry about it. How did I not read right through that? Am I truly becoming as stupid as he must believe I am? Maybe. Maybe that is why I left the redemption center feeling like an idiot. I had been fooled again. One month clean and serene, obviously not.

Falling for the same games over and over again makes me think less of myself (a problem I have continued to battle since Elementary school). It makes me feel used and cheated. I feel like I have no value. I realize in a logical sense that his drinking has absolutely nothing to do with me. It is a disease that has been passed down generation to generation. The disease was there before he met me. It was also hidden before he met me. Hidden in kind words and sweet gestures.

My husband and I have not yet reached our second anniversary. Let it be known, he is not an abusive alcoholic. To be perfectly honest, if he was, I would find this whole situation much easier to deal with. He hit me, I'm done and I have all the love and support of friends and family. My case is not that easy. My husband drinks and gets depressed. My loved ones interpret that as he needs my support more than ever. I just need to give more. If he is unable to make himself feel bad enough, he brings me in on it. This is what I refer to as our DANCE.

My husband no longer wants to dance alone on a particular evening, he wants someone to dance with him: Me. (Translation: He wants someone to agree that he is an asshole and he deserves the life he is living.) I know that I have the choice whether or not to dance. If I choose not to dance, I am not exhausted and my feet don't hurt when I go to bed at night. It is a struggle not to get involved. Some nights I can sit back and watch the desperate actions of an alcoholic trying to bait me. It is easy and I can actually see the pattern forming. Other nights, I am dancing without every realizing I've begun. I have found that once you begin, it is nearly impossible to stop. I have become part of the disease. I too am becoming diseased. I believe the clinic term would be "co-dependence".