I never imagined that I would pour out a fresh bottle of vodka, which once felt like the essence of my existence, my escape from reality, much more intoxicating than just a few drinks.

He had one beer left in the fridge. At least, that’s what I believed; there could have been others hidden away, likely in his car. He had a habit of stashing it there since we moved in together, fearing I would discover it elsewhere. But I knew better—he couldn’t even start his day without that first drink. His withdrawal symptoms were crippling. He had lost the ability to eat because his body had learned to function solely on alcohol, which was destroying him from the inside. The evidence was clear in the blood he vomited every morning.

For some time, his family and I had been urging him to reduce his drinking, but our efforts ended in failure as he never truly committed to change, merely finding new hiding spots. I had seen him nearly lose his life after he registered a blood alcohol level of .41, prompting me to call for help to ensure his safety. This wasn’t his first attempt to achieve sobriety, but it would soon prove to be the most challenging.

Both of us were grappling with our demons, yet in the process, we were sinking everything around us, including the budding love we had found after our divorces and the new family we were beginning to cultivate. It was high time to set the drinks aside, and we both understood that. Amidst another drunken argument, he finished his last beer, and I discarded my bottle of vodka.

We were embarking on this journey together—there was no other option.

I won’t delve into the horrifying and sinister detox process he went through in this narrative. I’m crafting that story for my first book, as it’s a tale that demands attention from anyone affected by alcoholism. This book will illuminate a mental struggle so daunting that you may never wish to touch alcohol again. It will share truths that often go unspoken, the quiet battles that remain hidden.

Yet, this part of our story also deserves recognition, as deciding to stop drinking together marks merely the beginning of a long road to sobriety. Once the bottles are empty, the journey becomes perilous, and even when walking side by side, you ultimately must face your battles alone—something rarely discussed.

It is indeed accurate that couples who quit alcohol together tend to have higher success rates than those who tackle it solo. The shared commitment nurtures understanding, empathy, and a common purpose that can enhance communication, encourage shared activities, and foster a healthier lifestyle, leading to improved well-being and happiness. However, the path to achieving this is lengthy and fraught with challenges. It’s no surprise that many relapse; few are prepared for the hell they are about to endure.

As the saying goes, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

We are somewhere in that hell. Nearly four years have passed. His struggles differ from mine, but I am aware of this only because we’re finally improving our communication, which was supposed to be the “finish line” we had envisioned. We’re not naive; we know there is no true finish line—alcoholism is a lifelong battle.

Like all addictions, alcoholism is rooted in mental health issues, trauma, and emotional scars. We turn to it to fill the voids left by our pain, to suppress the monsters lurking within us, unwittingly feeding them what they crave. It can bring a false smile, grant us the courage to engage with life, and create a barrier between our true selves and the façade we present to the world, hiding our struggles. We convince ourselves that drinking too much is the only issue—just stop drinking, right?

But what happens to those monsters once the alcohol is no longer there to keep them at bay? They begin to emerge, one sharp, infected claw at a time.

If you’re choosing to get sober together, brace yourself for the confrontation with your demons.

It’s essential to note that I am sharing from my personal journey toward sobriety, which I embarked on with my partner. I haven’t conducted research into success rates versus relationship duration, but I believe there is a slight difference in what occurs when our monsters finally confront one another. We typically spend our lives concealing our demons from everyone, particularly from those we cherish most.

As we learn to live without alcohol and think clearly, we must also relearn how to love ourselves. Perhaps I shouldn’t even say “again,” as many of us never truly loved ourselves to begin with. So, let’s say we’re learning to embrace our sober selves. The most challenging aspect is that you may come to dislike your sober self.

You quit drinking together, but now you resent your sober self, and so does your partner, while your respective monsters get acquainted. You must not only accept your demons but also theirs. Acceptance comes through understanding, which in turn requires effective communication.

However, these monsters have been suppressed for so long that when they begin to surface, you struggle to articulate their existence. You haven’t fully processed it for yourself, yet your partner sees your demons and seeks to understand their roots, hoping to establish the mutual understanding and shared purpose you envisioned embarking on this sobriety journey together. Words fail you. You can only feel the intensity of your emotions, which explode now that you’re sober, but those feelings are often too overwhelming to share, even if you could find the words.

Understanding remains elusive. You find yourself on a solitary path, burdened with a broken heart and soul. You tell yourself that no one can comprehend your struggles, which leads you to avoid even trying.

You crave a drink, but it’s not an option.

You start to lose respect for the journey, for yourself, and for your partner.

Your monsters manifest physically within you, and suddenly you find yourself unable to control the emotions you’ve fought to suppress for so long. They take over, revealing themselves to the person you once loved enough to choose sobriety with, and the demons begin to triumph, taking away everything that made sobriety worthwhile.

You crave a drink, but it’s not an option.

The anger, guilt, and shame spill forth, unleashing waves of despair, sorrow, and confusion about feeling isolated on a treacherous path you thought you were traversing together. You surrender to the onslaught of your emotions, allowing them to overwhelm you, and start to believe that your partner doesn’t care. They don’t love you. They’re concealing something. Insecurities arise, trust erodes, and negativity engulfs all. The monsters are winning.

You crave a drink, but it’s not an option.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat once more.

You might wonder if it would be simpler to end it all.

Time is the ultimate healer, whether it’s grief, trauma, or the destructive cycles of life. It gradually illuminates your path through darkness, but your grip on that light must be firm, or it will flicker and leave you once again alone in the shadows of recovery.

You find yourself like an infant rediscovering the world. Sobriety alters your entire experience, but as you open your eyes to it, you slowly realize that you’ve been battling your demons all along, just as your partner has. The unique mental challenges that arise when alcohol is absent will never mirror anyone else’s, not even your partner’s. A part of your journey will always be solitary.

The path you began together transforms into a testament to the true strength of your commitment to one another and the connection that initially brought you together. You will face tests like never before, enduring arguments, tears, lamentations, and an insatiable need for each other’s support as you confront your inner demons.

You will need to be strong for them on some of your weakest days.

You will tire from the effort of holding them up when your strength wanes.

You will sit in uncomfortable silence, knowing profound things need to be said.

You will hesitate to speak, explain, or even make eye contact during times of internal struggle.

You will question your own sanity. The real question is, are you prepared to be utterly out of your minds together as you navigate this hell apart?

The inspiration behind the quote encouraging perseverance through hell is that eventually, a way out will present itself. A soul finds itself trapped only when it stops fighting, too frightened of the metaphorical bloodshed.

My love, my partner on this sobriety journey, and I have grown immensely as we’ve confronted our demons separately. Hell isn’t always hell when devotion is by your side. We are not the same person, and our recoveries are vastly different, but this does not render us incompatible. Quite the opposite.

Even when you may not fully grasp each other’s mental states, judgments, or mindsets, it doesn’t preclude you from sharing laughter, fierce love, and joy. You simply encounter bumps in the road like all couples do—at least you’re not navigating them while intoxicated.

We have made significant progress in our journey together and apart. We are learning to communicate more effectively, discovering not only the words to express our struggles but also the courage to voice them when our raw humanity feels overwhelmed. We have come to understand the importance of letting go when necessary and moving forward, even when we stumble over one another.

The truth is, we have shared our most vulnerable selves with one another throughout this process, as sobriety inherently requires vulnerability for recovering addicts, creating an unbreakable bond. We love each other in our brokenness.

We like to think that at least we have each other to navigate this madness.

Achieving sobriety requires tremendous heart; writing about it demands even more. If you wish to support my work and efforts, click the image above to buy me a black heart. (It’s Buy Me a Coffee, but with warm fuzzies.)