When I asked him about the alcohol smell, he chalked it up to the scent of his cologne, and I believed him.
And there it was: a half-empty pint-sized bottle of vodka in his trunk. Ultimately, it was the lying that undid the little we had left.
He didn’t want to get better; he wanted to continue pretending he was better without putting in any of the hard work it takes to become a recovering alcoholic.
I wouldn’t drink at weddings, birthday parties, or any other social event, since I didn’t want to tempt him. Still, Jake would pass out on the couch like clockwork at 7 p.m.
I bought alcohol-free mouthwash, and stopped cooking with vodka sauce or wine. until the next morning, just as he had before I was aware of his drinking.
My therapist once said: “If you have family members who are alcoholics, you have no choice but to stand by them.