You think you know…

…but you have no idea.

My name is Cristina, and my husband’s an alcoholic. Even just typing those words make me cringe. Is it true? Sure, but there’s so much more to it than that. My (sober) husband is also funny and kind and the hardest working man I know. He has dreamy blue eyes and a contagious laugh I can pick out from a mile away.

So when (rightfully concerned) family and friends question why I’ve chosen to stick around this long, I know it’s something they’ll never understand. Hell, I don’t always understand.

All I know is that I love him. I love him, and I made that age-old better or worse commitment in front of 200 of our closest friends almost twelve years ago. But I also know that, while the good times are so, so good, the bad ones have gotten worse and worse.

Where is that invisible line in the sand? The one that once you cross, there’s no coming back from?

Is it the one where I’m called a “bitch” for not letting him drive our son to school drunk? No, we crossed that one. How about the one where I’m left to clean up his vomit while he snores loudly just a few feet away? Nope, been there, too. Is it when he spends days in a hotel, while his family and friends worry since no one knows where he is? Can you guess? Yeah, we did that. Or when he starts talking about strippers and hookers because I just haven’t been giving it up lately? We might just have a winner.

I’m sure many of you read that and find yourselves even more confused. And those of you that know me must be straight up baffled. “She really put up with ALL THAT?” you may be asking. Yes, yes I did. And those are just the highlights (low-lights?).

But much like I will never truly understand what it’s like to battle addiction, no one else will ever know what it’s like for me right now. If I’m being completely honest, I’m still not ready for a divorce. I think it’ll be a long while and a lot of work before I can trust him again or before he is welcome to move back into our home. But one drop of hope is all it takes to keep me going.

In all those horrible times, I always wondered how I would know when it was time to kick him out. But as they say, when you know, you know. And I knew. I’m hoping to have that same level of clarity if divorce ever is the only option left.

For now, though, I’m living. Surprise! I’ve cried enough over the past few years, and I’m over it. Am I still sad? My heart breaks every single day when I think about it. But you know what else happens every single day? LIFE. I am choosing not to let the weight of my marriage in shambles taint every other wonderful part of my life.

Yes, I am still going on my annual Ladies Weekend. And yeah, I am still posting on Instagram and working on new blog content. That doesn’t make me inauthentic; it makes me human.

So, don’t doubt me. My standing as “David’s wife” may be in question, but I’m still Miles’s mom and lots of people’s friend and a writer and a planner and a notebook hoarder and a million other pretty awesome things.