Although not conducive to spirituality, drinking with its easy access and instant gratification became the new void filler. The void filler. Pour me another glass of void. Then I will do some more voiding. Turmoil, anxiety, frustration, unfulfilled dreams. My wife and I attended church two to three times a week. It was something I had a genuine interest in most of the time. But what I was most interested in was God and having some sort of relationship with Him. It made sense that would happen more easily with encouragement from others seeking the same. Thus I went to church. We went to church. Although she and I were both "spiritual" or I should say had an interest in spirituality, it is sad to say that it seemed like we could never get on the same plane. I could be into it and involved but not so much her. Or vice versa. She would get very involved attending a ladies group, helping out with this or that, praying for enormous amounts of time and on and on and I was out to pasture. Out to void land. We just didn't have a good spiritual chemistry together. It seemed we just could not or would not get on the same page at the same time. I cannot blame her. I could blame myself. The blame really falls on US I think. But no blame game. Not now, especially as it is now nearly ten years since our divorce.
Back and forth, back and forth. Draw near to God, turn away from God. Vacillation. Over and over and over again. God seemed to fill the void in my life at times but why did He not solve the problems of our marriage? Why did I pray for many years for those problems and seemingly to no avail? Why? And why was it anytime I drew nearer to God during our marriage the problems between the wife and I increased? It seemed that way. I eventually became distraught, distrusting. I became helplessly hopeless. Life was hell. I went out to bars in spurts, never having an affair but there to gawk and flirt. That was one line I would not cross. Many mistakes made in my life but an affair would be crossing the line. It certainly was not a spiritual option.
At the end of November of 1986 I lied to my wife and told her I was going Christmas shopping for an evening. This gave me an evening to myself. I could drink and look at women in bars. Yeah buddy. Hubba hubba. I had beer in my car(so I would not waste time) for the drive from work to the bar. I rarely mixed my drinks but that night I did. Half a six pack of the beer stuff consumed prior to entering a bar whose name we will not mention. Sometimes a name just gives it all away if you know what I mean. Walked in for another round of "here I am, I can pretend to be something I am not, look at me". Wild turkey had become my drink of choice. Beer was only a filler, a teaser. And usually on a night of drinking there was no beer at all(once I graduated from the inferior beer school of thinking) but only the Turkey and the tequila chasing it. I got smashed out of my mind that night. I recall throwing up in their bathroom(throwing up was something I rarely did). I felt like I couldn't walk too. I didn't know since I was on the floor. I remember someone coming in asking me if I was OK, and that I should leave. I said yes and I will as soon as I am able. The next thing I recall(this night was blackout territory) is being in my driveway thinking I got to throw up again. Beelined inside where I threw up in my three year old daughters bathroom who wondered what was wrong with Dad, I was informed the next day. Black out, pass out. The next day I woke up on the floor of the master bedroom bathroom. My wife said she wanted to kick me the night before but didn't. Instead she had covered me with a blanket. I was so hung over we could not attend a party that afternoon. I spent that afternoon in bed feeling like kaka. Events like this did not make us closer as a couple.
Five months later in April of 1987 our second child was born. I drank the night he was born while the wife was away in the hospital. I felt a feeling of such strong remorse come over me. How could I be drinking on one of the most wonderful nights of my life. I had a son, a beautiful son. And I was drinking? Wtf? So I stopped. Cold turkey. I would not drink again for the next three years. Instead I became a seeker of God one more time. This time it became such a serious quest that some took notice and made a Deacon out of me. Deacons could not drink. No problemo there. It was 1988 and I was drink free. Alive and close to God. I was mister spiritual giant. Had two wonderful children. Made great money. Everything was great. Well, everything but the marriage. Oh yeah.
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