We are going to lose everything

The husband has been smoking pot and drinking tonight.

Pickle and I got home at 8pm from being at my Mom’s all day, sending out baby shower invitation and I could smell the beer seeping from his pores as soon as I hit the damn door. The air smelt like skunk pot. He said he missed us.

I had gone to the store to get something to make for dinner. He had asked me to get beer, but I forgot on purpose. Fortunately, the gas station within walking distance was able to redeem me. We are now in the stumbling, slurring, loud music phase. Pickle has called me into his room twice now to tell me he can’t sleep because Daddy’s music is too loud. I’m sure the new neighbors and the management company he works for won’t be bothered by the music at all. My husband has put in 3 wads of chewing tobacco in 45 minutes and he informed me that we have $45 in our account to last us until the end of the month. How are we supposed to afford this “lifestyle”.

Besides all that, I’m upset, throwing up again, going through massive amounts of toilet paper because my nerves are shot, my blood pressure will not stabilize. How long can I live like this? What will it take to make him stop? Blood pressure must be going up. (Yup, 186/110)  I’m having contractions again and it’s not time. He can’t be born yet. I wish I could just go to sleep, but I can’t. He just turned up his music even louder and the thoughts in my head are screaming.

This is some kind of wonderful life I’ve gotten myself and my child into. I can’t live like this . I won’t let my child live like this. What am I going to do when the baby comes home and my husband is drinking and blaring music while I’m trying to catch 2 hours of sleep between feedings?

To have and to hold from this day forward? Love? Honor? Cherish?

His favorite line is “in sickness and in health”. He always throws that one in my face with his “sickness” but it is not applicable to me, AT ALL. I don’t know what to do . I love him, but not what alcohol makes him when he’s drinking. I hate that.

I just want to be happy and I’m not. After what happened last time, him passing out in the closed garage with the truck running, I really believed that he understood. Why do I believe anything he says? Like when I got home tonight and told him he smelt like beer, he straight up lied to my face, told me he had one. I had to ask about all the beer in the trash just to get anywhere.

edit: End count was 9 bottles and 2-24oz tall boy cans. 

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