This is an experience record that has been de-identified, risk-screened, and language-polished; no identifying details about the original author’s identity, region, or other recognizable information are retained.
The first time I noticed something was wrong was on an ordinary weekend evening
He had always drunk before too—at gatherings with friends, during holidays and festivals. After a couple of glasses, his face would turn red, and then he would lie down and go to sleep. I never thought there was a problem with that. Didn’t all men around me act that way?
But that day was different. After dinner, he said he was going out for a walk. When he came back, he smelled of alcohol. I asked how much he had drunk, and he said just a small glass. But as he spoke, his eyes were glassy and he was a bit unsteady on his feet. I helped him to bed, and he started snoring quickly. Then at two in the morning, he suddenly sat up, covered in sweat, saying his chest felt tight and he wanted to vomit. I was terrified, thinking he had a heart problem.
Only later did I learn that it had never been just one glass. That day, he had drunk nearly half a jin of baijiu outside. And he himself couldn’t explain why—he had just walked to the entrance of the corner store downstairs, saw the liquor bottles on the shelf, and had only one thought in his head: take a drink.
The hardest part was not knowing when the next time would happen
After that, the drinking became more and more frequent. From two or three times a week to nearly every day. He always said, “I had a business dinner today,” “I’m in a bad mood today,” “I’m happy today.” There was always an excuse to be found. But I knew those reasons were all just excuses. The real reason was that a voice inside his body was urging him on.
I looked up information and also asked doctors. Alcohol is a neuro-addictive substance with a strong affinity for the central nervous system. After being consumed, alcohol first suppresses the cerebral cortex, making a person relax and release emotions. Once a certain amount is drunk, it becomes a state of intoxication—dulled senses, reduced memory and judgment. If this continues long-term, the function of the cerebral cortex can be altered, and the number and function of neurotransmitters and receptors change. That is addiction.
That was exactly what he was like. When he was sober, he would also regret it and say, “I won’t drink next time.” But once that moment came, it was as if he had become a different person. I tried hiding the liquor, pouring it out, arguing with him, begging him. None of it worked. The hardest part was not seeing him drunk; it was not knowing when the next time would happen. Every day when I came home from work, before opening the door, I had to take a deep breath and guess what state the house would be in.
Our child started avoiding him, and I pretended not to notice
Our child is five years old. In the past, when Dad came home, the child would pounce on him for a hug. Later, that slowly changed. When Dad got close, the child would step back. Once, when he had drunk too much, he spoke very loudly, and the child was so scared that the child hid behind me and whispered, “Mommy, Daddy is so scary.” I hugged the child tightly and said nothing. I didn’t know what to say.
He wasn’t really fierce; he just couldn’t control himself. Alcohol made his emotions swing wildly. One second he would be laughing, and the next he might flare up over a small thing. After the outburst he would regret it, holding his head and saying, “I didn’t mean it.” I knew he didn’t mean it. But our child didn’t know. All the child knew was that once Daddy drank, he became frightening.
During that period, I didn’t dare sleep too soundly at night. Sometimes he would suddenly wake up, say he couldn’t sleep, and then get up to look for alcohol. When I heard noises in the living room, I would quietly get up and stand by the gap in the door to watch. I watched him sit alone on the sofa, pour a glass, drink it, then pour another. That silhouette made me feel that he was very lonely too.
It was only when his body began to sound the alarm that we truly faced this
His body started having problems. He felt nauseous in the morning, had no appetite, and his hands would shake involuntarily. At night he slept poorly, tossing and turning, sometimes waking with a start and a racing heart. His blood pressure had also gone up. Once he told me that his heart felt like it was going “thump-thump” and was about to jump out of his throat.
I took him to the hospital. The doctor said that long-term drinking had already affected his autonomic nervous system, and withdrawal symptoms had appeared—meaning that once he stopped drinking, symptoms such as anxiety, depression, nausea, sweating, palpitations, high blood pressure, and sleep disorders would occur. The doctor spoke calmly, but my heart turned cold as I listened. I realized then that this was no longer just “drinking too much”; this was his body crying for help.
He sat for a long time in the hospital corridor that day. When he came out, he said to me: “I want to quit, but I’m afraid I can’t do it.” That was the first time he admitted that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to stop; it was that he couldn’t stop.
Afterward, we began to seriously face this. Not by relying on words like “I won’t drink next time,” but by understanding what it really is. I know some families are like mine, or even worse. Alcohol’s harm to the cardiovascular and cerebrovascular systems is long-term. My maternal grandfather’s cerebral thrombosis was caused by years of drinking. I don’t want my child to go through that either.
Now, we are still on the road
He didn’t get better overnight. Quitting drinking is not a quick battle; it is a prolonged war. There have been relapses, setbacks, and nights of emotional collapse. But we no longer pretend not to see it. I have learned to speak to him gently when he is sober, rather than arguing when he is drunk. He has also learned that when he feels the urge to drink, he sends me a message first instead of walking straight into the corner store.
Recently, our child has started to be willing to sit next to him and watch TV. It’s still a little stiff, but at least the child no longer avoids him. I know this takes time.
I’m writing this not to say we have succeeded. Rather, I want to tell those who are in the same situation as us: the predicament in your home is not something only your family is experiencing. Alcohol dependence is a disease, not a problem of willpower. Facing it requires courage, and it also requires methods. If you are going through this too, don’t carry it alone. Learn about it, and seek help. For yourself, and for the person at home who is afraid to fall asleep.
A drinking problem is not one person’s affair; it is like a thread that tugs at the breath of the whole family.