Family Disease: Annie’s Story

On Thanksgiving 2018, my husband fell down our basement steps and put his head through the wall. With blood literally pouring down his face, all I could think to spit at him was, “Are you drinking again?” This wasn’t exactly my shining wife moment, but it’s where I was with my husband’s alcoholism at the time.

I was extremely sick myself from his disease. The way I handled this incident is one of the biggest regrets I have in life; however, it’s been a catalyst for my own recovery. And for that, I’m eternally grateful. Alcoholism is called a family disease for a reason. Just as we are all sick, we all must put hard work into recovery.

The moment my husband sat before me, covered in blood and drywall, was the exact moment I can look back on and realize something that is common and baffling with this disease. I no longer saw my husband as a human who was in need of love and support. I was angry with him, I resented him, and I only saw how much his addiction was hurting our family. So, I acted out.

I can admit that and accept this hard truth now, but I haven’t forgotten it. After a few years have passed, and a lot of therapy and time has been spent in Al-Anon, a 12 step program for family members and friends of alcoholics, I can finally see this clearly. But, it’s too late for me to apologize to my husband now because he’s dead.

My name is Annie Parker. I’m a forty-year-old widowed mother of two beautiful, brave, and resilient sons. W is 11 and E is 14. My boys and I are now in deep recovery from the family disease of addiction, even though we no longer live with active alcoholism in our lives. Alcoholism killed my sons’ father in July of 2020. And, though I’m not the drinker, it almost killed me too.

My family has been pushed by unfair circumstances to the darkest and most painful of places. This is our story. It’s a common story, but the type that nobody likes to talk about out loud. It’s a story of trauma, devastating loss, survival, strength, growth, hope, and so much love.

I have a unique perspective of addiction because I have experienced it from many angles… all but a few that I can think of. I am not the parent of an addict (this is my biggest fear), and I am not an addict myself. I have; however, been married to one, am the sister of one, have parents who have a child that is one, and have my own children with a dead, addicted parent.

Addiction hits differently when it’s in your own home. Clearly, by the time my husband put his head through the wall, we had been through hell and back multiple times. From DUIs to multiple jobs lost, hospitalizations, hallucinations, seizures, detox facilities, long-term rehab facilities, all the way to him driving his car into the side of our house and even a near suicide attempt by me. Not to mention the constant lying and manipulation.

This disease is brutal. It’s an insidious monster of the worst kind, and it has zero effs to give. It doesn’t care who you are or whether you’re rich or poor. It doesn’t care about your gender, race, sexuality, or political views… It will take down anyone it can, and it will do its damndest to bring down the entire family with it.

On July 2, 2020, my husband was found dead on the bedroom floor of his childhood home. He was naked, all alone, stone cold, and in the fetal position with only his beloved dachshund by his side. The culprit? The disease of alcoholism. Chris died during detox from alcohol. Many people don’t know this, but detox from alcohol is dangerous. It’s one of the few detoxes that can kill a person, and it should always be done in the care of medical professionals.

Chris’s official cause of death was a heart attack due to prolonged use of alcohol. But, sometimes the line feels a little blurry. You see, if I’m being completely honest, some days I’m not really sure if I killed my husband or not… I certainly have been accused of it by a handful of people. His family members and close friends have said judgy things like, “You left him when he needed you most,” or, “He gave up the moment you kicked him out.” My personal favorite is, “I could have helped if you would have just told me.” Puh-lease.

I learned the hard way that secrets keep people sick. Not many people knew my husband was an alcoholic, so when he died, they were in shock and disbelief. They needed answers that included someone to blame. That target was on my back. It can feel really unsafe to talk about addiction and being married to an alcoholic out loud because of the giant stigma surrounding it.

The truth of the matter is that humans can be painfully judgy when they don’t quite understand something, especially when it has to do with mental health. Oftentimes, the spouses and loved ones of alcoholics suffer silently while trying to maintain a picture-perfect life to their friends, extended families, communities, and workplaces. That was the case for me. I “robotted” through life, seeming much more okay than I actually was. 

Not too long before my husband was found dead, in October of 2019, I found myself standing next to an oncoming train, seriously contemplating taking one step forward and ending my own life. One step forward was all it would have taken to not just end my life… but more importantly, end my suffering. I was standing so close to that train that I could feel every single bone in my body rattling. If I would have stuck my arm out, it would have completely taken me out. This is when I knew I had to change my life, and I needed to do it fast. Good thing I did too, because my boys would be orphans if I hadn’t stepped back from that train.

Obviously, I chose not to end my own life that day. I wish I could say that I stepped back from that train because I found my self-worth, but that wasn’t the case. I am a mother. Every single decision I make for myself comes from a place of doing what’s best for my boys. They saved my life that day. I used to think to myself that stepping away from that train was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Well, it wasn’t, because burying my husband was.

By the time Chris died, we had been divorced for 45 days, and he had not lived in our marital home for 9 months – insert big life change here. The broken parts of me, the parts of me I’m still frivolously trying to heal from the aftermath of living with an active alcoholic for a decade, often make me question it all. If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I am not the only wife, girlfriend, mother, daughter, or friend of an alcoholic who has struggled silently with guilt and suicidal thoughts.

Besides the blame being placed on me by people who simply didn’t understand this disease, I wasn’t always as empathetic and understanding of my husband as I should have been. You know, back when I believed he was ruining my life by choosing to drink over me and over our family. I had my own guilty finger pointing at myself most of the time.

This is a common practice and misconception among those who are married to alcoholics (or have alcoholic family members, such as children). It takes a long time and a lot of hard inner work to understand otherwise. I try to remind myself that I was always doing the best I could at the time. I was young. I was suffering. I was undereducated about this disease. And, I felt lost. These things don’t foster a healthy response to trauma.

This is why I responded to him so heartlessly as he was literally removing his bloody head from the wall at the bottom of our steps that Thanksgiving evening. And, it’s why there is often a line drawn between the alcoholics and their family members in general.

This division of ‘us’ and ‘them’ is something I work hard to put an end to every day. The truth about this disease is that we are all suffering: the alcoholic and their family members. Neither ‘side’ truly understands what the other is feeling or thinking. Add in a lot of resentment, sadness, anger, and grieving the lives we all planned for ourselves, and we have a sparkling recipe for disaster and destruction. This division of ‘us’ and ‘them’ is why I’m here writing our story again today. I will write it as many times as I can in hopes that I can help just one person or one family to avoid the same fate of mine.

Looking back on it now, it becomes really emotional to not only think about all that he went through while suffering from his disease, but all that I went through as his spouse and the healthy parent in our family. As well as, all that our children went through watching it unfold, and now, dealing with their grief from losing their dad forever.

You see, there are many forms of loss in living a life with an addict. Death is just one of them. Time spent away in rehab, divorce, chronic illness, incarceration, relapse, and emotional change are all losses, too. We family members simply have to find a way to be okay no matter what happens.

Over time, I learned that Chris’s alcoholism was completely out of my control. There was absolutely nothing I could say or do to change this situation for him; he had to put the hard work in toward his own recovery. And, I had to do the same for myself. Though I had no control over what was happening, I did have control over how I handled it. And, I had control over the decisions I made moving forward.

For my family, active recovery is a priority. We each have an individual therapist, as well as a family grief counselor. I attend Al-Anon meetings frequently and work directly with a sponsor in much the same way the alcoholic does in their own AA program. I am taking control and working on myself and what led me to the dysfunctionality of my life. This hard work gifts us freedom from the handcuffs of others’ choices and guides us to serenity and happiness in our futures. To this day, I still must remind myself daily that I can only save myself. And then, I spread education and experience on my social media platform.

Because of my experience, I have a few things I’d like to say directly to the spouse of alcoholics who may be reading this, and then to those affected by alcoholism or addiction.

To the spouse of an alcoholic: Don’t leave your post. As the healthy parent living in a world that is crumbling around you, be the love and stability you and your children need at home. Be kind to your sick spouse, even when it’s hard. You may be weary. You may be exhausted. You may be worried, and even sometimes frantic. But, your kids have you. You matter more than anyone else in the world to your children. You carry the power to completely change how this disease affects your family and determine the trajectory of your children’s lives.

To the addicted: This disease wants nothing more than to kill you, but not until it strips you of everything good in your life first. It rips daddies and mommies from the arms of their children and from other people who love them dearly. My husband didn’t recover because he wasn’t working on himself. He wasn’t in a recovery program and didn’t take therapy seriously. He wasn’t able to recover, but this doesn’t have to be your fate. Your children don’t have to grow up without you. There is hope.

We can and DO recover!

With that, I will leave you all with my favorite quote:

“Family dysfunction rolls down from generation to generation, like a fire in the woods, taking down everything in its path until one person in one generation has the courage to turn and face the flames. That person brings peace to their ancestors and spares the children that follow.”–Terry Real

Author’s Bio: About Annie

In 2020, Annie’s husband, Chris, lost his life to the disease of alcoholism; he was just 37 years old. Chris and Annie had two sons together, who are now 14 and 11. Annie realizes that her kids have grown up in trauma, and in an attempt to stop this vicious cycle from continuing, she is standing tall as a cycle breaker. She and her family focus a lot of their time and energy working on recovering together out loud.

Annie’s quirky and spicy memoir, “I Did Not Kill My Husband : But I Almost Killed Myself,” is a must read. With over 10,000 copies downloaded in its first year released and over a hundred 5 star reviews, Annie’s story dives right in, in complete vulnerability, to all of the uncomfortable truths about being the spouse of an alcoholic… And the aftermath once things turn deadly.

Through her turbulent life experiences, Annie has found a deep passion for educating people from ages 8 to 98. Whether teaching children in her third grade classroom, inspiring like-minded peers through her memoir and Instagram, or writing mental health advocate articles for the blind elderly via the website she writes for, Annie finds purpose through helping others navigate their own personal struggles in life.

Annie’s philosophy is that knowledge is a superpower, and her passion for helping others centers on the ideology of living a holistic, healthy lifestyle. She hopes her work helps break the stigmas surrounding prioritizing self-love, self-worth, and mental health.

While battling her way to happiness and peace for herself and her family, Annie has gained a vast array of experiential expertise on complex issues that include: Emotional abuse, suicidal ideation, grief, anxiety, anger, the family disease of alcoholism, mental health therapy, and blindness.

You can find Annie’s memoir at Amazon: I Did Not Kill My Husband : But I Almost Killed Myself

You can find daily posts from Annie on her professional Instagram page at: @ididnotkillmyhusband.

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