The Choice

of distance and hostility? She had learned to manage her fear by trying
to exert control. She would sniff Jun’s breath, make accusations, pull
away. I taught her to greet her husband the same way whether he was
sober or drunk—with kind eyes and a simple statement: “I’m happy to
see you. I’m glad you’re home.” If he was drunk, and she was hurt and
disappointed, she was allowed to talk about those feelings. She could
say, “I can see you’ve been drinking, and that makes me feel sad
because it’s hard to feel close to you when you’re drunk” or “that
makes me feel worried about your safety.” And she was allowed to
make choices for herself in response to his choice to drink. She could
say, “I was hoping to talk to you tonight, but I can see you’ve been
drinking. I’m going to do something else instead.”
I talked to Jun about the physiological components of addiction,
and told him that I could help him heal whatever pain he was trying to
medicate with alcohol, and that if he chose to get sober, he would
need additional support in treating his addiction. I asked him to go to
three AA meetings and see if he recognized himself in any of the
stories he heard there. He did go to the assigned meetings, but as far
as I know he never went back. In the time that I worked with him, he
didn’t stop drinking.
When Ling and Jun ended their therapy, some things were better
for them and some things weren’t. ey were better able to listen to
each other without the need to be right, and they were spending more
time on the other side of anger, where they could acknowledge their
sadness and fear. ere was more warmth between them. But a
loneliness remained. And the fear that Jun’s drinking would spiral out
of control.
eir story is a good reminder that it isn’t over till it’s over. As long
as you live, there’s the risk that you might suffer more. ere’s also the
opportunity to ĕnd a way to suffer less, to choose happiness, which
requires taking responsibility for yourself.