"Invisible to My Eyes Wide Open," by Matt Salis

The reality was staring me in the face. It was so clear and crisp that I could feel it and taste it. My marriage was crumbling. The fights were more frequent and more vicious. The times when we got along diminished to the point that they felt like brief respites to reload, and nothing more, before returning to battle.

I drank to relax. I drank to unwind. I drank to bolster myself for the dysfunction on the homefront. I drank to tolerate that which had become my existence.

My wife was a nag, and I was never good enough. Sure, my temper, my anxiety - they played a part. There was so much destruction that there was plenty of blame to go around. The relationship was dissolving, because we were running out of glue to hold it together.

The drinking eased the pain. It used to be fun, but those memories were so far in the past that faint wisps of joy were all to which I could cling. Now, it was about bridging the trauma from one day to the next. My elixir was medicinal.

Had we crossed the point of no return? Was the relationship salvageable? Even if it was possible, was there anything left worth saving? What would have to change? Love was out of the question, but was there even anything there to like?

What role could alcohol play in my future? Was it possible to drink enough to trick myself back into love? The tangible feelings were so painful, that I wondered - could I drink them all away?

I existed in these two realities for so long. My life and my marriage coexisted but were hidden from each other. I was causing the pain - my pain and the agony of my bride. My solution was the problem. My medication caused the cancer between us. My escape trapped us both.

“I quit drinking for you, Sheri! What more do you want from me?” A realization. A glimmer of hope. But had it come too late? I stopped, but I didn’t understand. And my question to my bride drove my ignorance home. Even once I could see it, still, somehow, it remained invisible.