You have a drinking problem. There's no sugar coating it.

You told me your father was an alcoholic and that he left you. You won't openly admit it, but this has had a lasting impact on you your whole life and it still effects you deeply today.

You won't admit how much he has impacted you or try therapy again even if your mom and I have suggested and even pleaded you do to give it another shot.

You drink a lot. Whenever you start, you can't stop. You become this other person whenever you go past "that point". You get angry, you cry, you ask me not to leave you. You even ask me to let you die.

I stay quiet, I bring you water, I clean your vomit up, wash you and carry you to bed. I worry and close my eyes.

The next morning you joke about not ever letting that happen again. We laugh. But I know this will happen again soon.

Tonight was no different. This has been the first time you've drank yourself to that level in public. Tonight was supposed to be a good night. I take you to a concert, we listen to some bands, eat something yummy and call it a night. You chose to drink. And drink. And drink. You were a trainwreck, spilling your drinks everywhere and making a spectacle of yourself. I have never been embarassed by you in this way until tonight.

I don't know what to do. But I know I need to be the husband you need and get you help. You need help. This is getting worse.

You are in the bedroom passed out. I am on the couch in the living room. My heart is broken, but the pieces still love you.