Knowing when to quit

My life has been crazy. I married a man three weeks after I meet him. After fifteen years of verbal abuse, I divorced him because his drinking made my life a living hell. His constant accusations of infidelity drove me to point that I started thinking that the world would be a better place without me. So much so, that I contemplated suicide on a daily basis. All of this was before my diagnosis, all before my life changed.

After realizing that I had done nothing wrong other than love him and try to please him, I realized that it was him, not me. Well, I made the bold step of leaving him. We divorced, and I moved on. Or so I thought.

After a few years, listening to my son tell me he was a changed man, I decided to give him another chance. While we dated, he truly seemed a changed man. So...against my better judgement, I tool him back. We were remarried on what would have been out seventeenth anniversary.

Life was wonderful for a while. Then, things started to not add up. One night, he was walking across the living room, and feel flat on his face, sound asleep. My first reaction...smell his breath. Minty....

Then I walked into the bathroom only to discover the mouthwash I had just brought home that evening was almost empty.

The next day, I confronted him and he admitted that he drank the mouthwash to get drunk. He had never stopped drinking. It was all a lie. He promised to stop, and I believed him. Fast forward to this year...passing out on a daily basis became the norm for him. A gallon of vodka would last about a day.

A few weeks ago, I called him while at lunch and told him if I found him drunk again, I was done. He had used up his second chance. I came home that night to find him passed out.

The lies, the sneaking, the manipulation...I couldn't handle it anymore. I told him we were through.

He refuses to leave the house. He claims he's getting help, but in my heart, I know it's just to get me to put my guard down. I can't trust him.

What does this have to do with my disease? My only trigger is stress -well, the only trigger I have found so far. I come home, and I feel my throat constricting. Does he care? No. He's accused me of faking the disease for attention. How do you fake your throat swelling shut? You can't.

My life will be in turmoil for a while now. My prayer is that this isn't the thing that takes my life.

I am stronger than this. I can do this. Right?