This is an experience record that has been de-identified, risk-screened, and language-edited; the original author's identity, geographic location, or identifiable details are not retained in the text.
The hardest part is not knowing when the next episode will happen
At first, I thought he just had too many social engagements. Later, I realized his drinking pattern was unusual: he could go completely sober for a while, but once he started, he would drink heavily for several consecutive days until his body gave out. Then he would stop, with intervals of half a month, a month, or even longer, before repeating the cycle. This pattern kept me constantly toggling between "he seems fine" and "it's starting again."
I tried recording his drinking intervals to find a pattern. But it was different every time—sometimes three weeks apart, sometimes two months. The hardest part wasn't when he was drinking, but not knowing when the next episode would come. That lingering sense of uncertainty made it impossible for me to sleep soundly.
When he wasn't drinking, his body would "speak"
Later, I noticed that whenever he stopped drinking, he would develop certain physical reactions. The most obvious was hand tremors—visible when he held a cup or picked up food. There was also palpitations, sweating, and restlessness. He himself said he felt anxious inside, as if something was missing. But as soon as he had a little alcohol, these symptoms would quickly subside.
I looked up some information and learned this was withdrawal syndrome. But seeing someone go from a normal state to that in person was still shocking. Once, he stopped drinking for two days, and in the middle of the night he suddenly vomited and shook all over. I was terrified, thinking something serious had happened. Later, I learned this was also part of withdrawal. In that state, he seemed like a completely different person—even his eyes looked different.
The doctor said that severe withdrawal can cause seizures, delirium, or even epilepsy, and requires professional management. That's when I understood this wasn't something you could just tough out with willpower.
His personality changed, and so did our home
Alcohol dependence isn't just a physical issue. Over the years, his personality gradually changed. He used to be fairly mild-tempered, but later he became suspicious and irritable. The most obvious change was that he started groundlessly suspecting me of being unfaithful. I had a clear conscience, but explanations didn't help. After drinking, he would interrogate me repeatedly, even going through my phone and checking my whereabouts.
Being suspected like that was deeply hurtful. What saddened me even more was his growing indifference toward our child. He used to play with the child on weekends, but later he would just lie on the sofa all day and ignore the child when called. I became the only one keeping the household running—working, managing the child, and dealing with his mood swings. For a while, I felt like I was caring for two children at once: one small, one big.
I began to learn how to set boundaries
For several years, my life revolved entirely around him. When he drank too much, I took leave from work to come home; when he had withdrawal, I stayed up all night watching over him; when he felt unwell, I took him to the hospital. I treated myself as a firefighter, on call at all times. But living that way, my own condition kept deteriorating.
The turning point was a physical exam. The doctor said my blood pressure was elevated and asked if I was under too much stress. That's when I realized I had been running myself ragged. Afterward, I slowly learned to set boundaries: when his withdrawal was severe, I accompanied him to the emergency room but didn't handle it alone; when he suspected me, I calmly told him, "That's your issue, not mine"; during his drinking episodes, I took the child and stayed at my parents' house for a few days to give myself space.
This isn't about abandoning him—it's about understanding that if I also collapsed, there would be no one left to hold the family together. Later, when he received treatment, the doctor also emphasized that family members need to maintain their own stability in order to provide sustained support.
Seeing the symptoms is the first step to knowing what to do next
Over the years, I gradually learned to view his behavior as symptoms. His inability to control his drinking, the withdrawal reactions, and the personality changes—these are all manifestations of alcohol dependence, not deliberate choices on his part. This understanding helped me let go of much of my self-blame and anger.
But I also know that family support alone isn't enough. He later went to the hospital for an assessment, and the doctor said he had developed alcohol dependence syndrome: increased tolerance, requiring escalating amounts to achieve the same effect; recurrent withdrawal reactions; and personality changes. The doctor recommended systematic treatment, including medically supervised detoxification and psychological intervention.
Now, he is receiving professional help, and I am also adjusting my own pace. The road ahead is still long, but at least I'm no longer carrying it alone. If you're going through something similar, I want to say: take care of yourself first, then talk about taking care of others.
When accompanying someone with addiction, guard your own boundaries first so you can provide sustained support.