Navigating a relationship where only one of you drinks can be like trying to walk a tightrope in a thunderstorm. It requires a delicate balance, constant attention, and the resilience to withstand unexpected pressure that could hurtle you off. I thought that giving up alcohol would mean that the stuff no longer had the power to mess with my life. I was free of it, finally. And good riddance. But being in a relationship where one of you drinks reveals a different reality. The ugly beast that is alcohol, which I fought to escape, was still finding a way to intrude. And now, it seemed, it wanted more than my health and happiness; it wanted my marriage. I am over two years sober now. And I lived those first two years with a husband who still drinks. More than occasionally. And at home. And it’s something people ask me about a lot. How do you do it? How can you stand it? Why didn’t he give up? How long will you wait? Why don’t you ask him to stop? All good questions, but I’m afraid there isn’t an answer to the question, ‘How do you stay in a relationship with a drinker when you’re sober?’. As we know, all relationships are different, and navigating a marriage that is half-cut is a journey as individual as your wedding day. Saying that I can give you an insight into my story. I need to explain that my husband, Nick, has been supportive of my sobriety from day one. He has championed me, congratulated me, and told me how incredibly proud of me he is. He never once tried to get me to drink or suggested that maybe this wouldn’t have to be forever, and I think that made it even harder. Because I love him, and after 16 years together, he is still my best friend. Someone I look forward to seeing at the end of the day. But his support and clear understanding of how good sobriety is made me confused about why he still picked up that bottle of wine at 6 p.m.
I have spoken to a lot of people (male and female) whose relationships have totally broken apart in the same situation as mine. But most (if not all) of them have admitted they weren’t that happy before or that they realised alcohol was the main thing that was keeping them together. After all, being with someone who doesn’t mind you drinking every night and who never questions how much you drink because they drink the same amount is incredibly enabling. Something a big drinker actively searches for in a partner. But take one glass out of that equation, and things start getting awkward. When I decided to quit, I did it for me. I had to. It’s the only way. And I realised very soon, through listening and reading other people’s accounts of sobriety, that you can’t force someone to quit. And I didn’t ever ask him to. I have been lucky in that other people drinking around me doesn’t trigger me. And while I avoid drunk people like the plague, it seemed to be manageable living with someone who drank.
When he drank too much, he slept in the spare room. When he stank of stale booze, I didn’t kiss him. But for the first 6 months or so, I was just concentrating on ME not drinking. The problems started when my attitude towards alcohol changed. Instead of just not wanting to drink it, I started to despise it. What it did to people, the things it took, mentally and physically. The solemn and sad mood it leaves people in. And that’s what eventually got to me. Watching someone you love do something that is hurting them is hard. I faced one of the trickiest dilemmas of my life. I couldn’t tell him to quit. He wasn’t making any indication that he would. But I had to be honest about how I felt. The last thing I wanted to do was announce, after 16 years and 2 kids, that I was off because I’d been secretly hating this situation for so long. But how do you deal with that? If I said, ‘I will leave if you don’t stop, that’s an ultimatum. If I waited and didn’t say anything, that’s not fair and doesn’t give the relationship a chance. I was in a catch 22.
I believe a relationship can work when one of you is sober, provided both of you are content with the arrangement. I also think it takes time not only to deal with your own sobriety but for others to come to terms with it too. After all, their favourite drinking buddy is no longer drinking. But there is no getting away from the fact that, as a person who doesn’t drink, I didn’t want to be with someone who did. I realised that, in the end, it was a waiting game. A sinister game, yes, but one I had to take part in. And one that was ultimately out of my control. I was honest about how I felt. And I focused on my own decisions. And I just had to accept that, at some point, it would probably become too much.
I had no idea when that point would be. And I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. But after two years, I could feel it was getting closer. So, the plot twist. Nick announced that he was going to quit for a year, starting on January 1st. And so far, so good. The difference it has made is huge. I feel proud of him, and I can actually see him looking better, and having more energy, and I feel like there is hope for ‘us’. Not only does our marriage survive, but it thrives. I was lucky. And while I don’t know what the future holds, I am hoping that this is long-term. My advice? Do you. Let them do them. Be honest. And if there comes a time when it becomes too much, you need to consider what the next move is. If you think about it, that’s the way we deal with anything in a relationship that becomes problematic. Whether it’s alcohol, food, exercise, gambling, work, laziness, or attitude. We need to either say we can live with it, it needs to change, or that the relationship has come to an end. I accepted those were my three options, and while I waited at the crossroads to see where I would be going, I focused on my sobriety.
