why an alcoholic cannot love?

I am 41. I am a woman. I have been married to an alcoholic for more than 15 years. I am sure he doesnt love me, and I am pretty sure it is becuase he is an alcoholic. This is not poetry. This is just facts from my kitchen table at 2 a.m. while he sleeps it off again. People like to say “love is patient” or “marriage is work.” Fine. But there is a difference between work and emotional starvation. I have done alot of waiting. Waiting for him to come home sober. Waiting for him to notice I cut my hair. Waiting for him to ask how my day was and actually listen. He can be generous, polite, even charming when he wants. He can also disappear into a bottle and leave nothing behind but noise and resentment. Therapists say, “don’t take it personally.” AA slogans say, “one day at a time.” Friends say, “he loves you in his own way.” I call bullshit. Love, real love, requires presence. He is never present. When he drinks, I am furniture. When he is sober, he is tired, ashamed, defensive. There is no room left for me. I remember once being sick with the flu, shaking, asking him to stay home. He said he would. He didn’t. He came back drunk and annoyed that I was “still miserable.” That memory sticks. It always will.

I am not saying alcoholics are monsters. I am saying alcoholism eats love first. It eats empathy, patience, and accountability. There is days when he looks at me like he is trying to remember who I am. That is the part no one wants to admit. Addiction turns relationships into transactions. I provide stability. He provides chaos. We orbit the same house but live seperate lives. I stopped expecting affection years ago. I stopped asking questions, becuase answers require honesty and sobriety. When I confronted him last year, he said, “I never asked you to stay.” That sentence was clean and brutal. He was right. I stayed. I also learned. Love cannot survive where alcohol is the priority. It will always come second, third, or not at all. I am balanced enough to admit my own role. I enabled. I hoped. I believed promises I knew were weak. But I am also honest enough to say this: love needs intention. Addiction has none. So tell me, reader, if someone chooses a substance over you every day, what word would you use for that? Is it love, or is it just habit dressed up as marriage? I am tired of pretending those are the same.

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