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" Every day the fog is lifting and I&amp;#039;m feeling more and more like my old self. The Zoloft, like my Yuban on a sleepy morning, is slowly sinking into my system - a chemical jump start cocktail. I&amp;#039;ve signed myself up for some positive thinking classes. I&amp;#039;m exercising when I can. I&amp;#039;m showering first thing in the morning, putting on my make-up, and doing something nice for myself. Some days this means a jaunt to my favorite thrift store. At times this means eating a few Vanilla wafers - emotional eating be damned - and sipping some coffee on my green ottoman while the rain pours down. A fire? That&amp;#039;s totally optional, but an additional ace in the hole toward contentment. I&amp;#039;d like to say that Rex has been a huge source of strength in getting my optimistic mood back on track. But he&amp;#039;s not. And I&amp;#039;d also like to say that he was a huge reason for putting me in the negative space in the first place, but that would not be fair. Because at the end of the day, I am in charge of my own happiness. &amp;quot;Our mates are supposed to support us!&amp;quot; some of you might say. I couldn&amp;#039;t agree more. This is why I was pretty frustrated a few weeks ago. Rex has yet to be that person who will last minute run to the store with me. He is not one to jump at the opportunity to go to museums or shows. An extra curricular dance class? About as likely as Pope Benedict converting to Judaism. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s not fair,&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;d whine to myself. &amp;quot;I deserve someone more fun and easy going,&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;d complain - and not just to myself. Rex got to hear it also. &amp;quot;Come on, dude, let&amp;#039;s do something different today!&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;d harp the moment he came home from work. &amp;quot;Let&amp;#039;s change up the routine - I&amp;#039;m dying of boredom here.&amp;quot; After a long and stressful day for Rex, this did not go over well. His back would go up, words would fly, causing my already &amp;quot;feeling neglected&amp;quot; self to be more hurt and resentful. Doors would slam, both in the house and in my heart. Last week I went on a walk with a friend. She&amp;#039;s been sober for about 20 years. In talking about the 12-step program she participates in to keep her off alcohol, she confessed that she&amp;#039;s knee deep in performing a thorough &amp;quot;personal and moral inventory&amp;quot; of herself. She reminded me that to stay on track of her life, her eyes have to be focused on her, not those around her. She can&amp;#039;t look to her kids, her spouse, her job or her religion for complete contentment. Yes, they are important. But if she put all her emphasis on those things, her world would sink, and she&amp;#039;d end up right back in the bottle for comfort. That was a light bulb moment for me and my marriage. To hear more, tune in Friday. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a2885/the-sober-reality-of-marriage/>