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Workaholics Anonymous

I’ve seen some of my friends deal with so many different, heart-wrenching kinds of addictions. So, I guess, for me, my husband’s addictions could be much, much worse. Some even might say it’s a good thing. But unfortunately, for me, there is no rehabilitation for what my husband is addicted to.

You see, my husband is a workaholic. On top of that, he is a complete and total sports junky. Between those two, I sometimes feel that in the pecking order of my husband’s priorities,  it’s
  1. Work
  2. Football
  3. Family
  4. Church

At least I made in the top three, right?

For the twelve years that we’ve been together, I’ve admired my husband’s work ethic, and his dedication to provide for his family. I watched him climb the corporate ladder; he started at an entry level position, and now he has become President of the company. I’ve watched him grow this company, open new branches, and felt the sense of accomplishment for his successes alongside him.

But, these successes come with a cost. I’ve grown jealous of the dirty mistress that is my husband’s job. He works at least 12 hours a day. Sometimes more. He is NEVER home for dinner. If he says he will be home “early” it usually means 8:00 p.m. He travels many weeks out of the year, and I’ve learned how to cope as, in a sense, a single mom. He's an incredible father, don't get me wrong, but that's when he is actually home.

Yes, he is an amazing father to our children. When he’s here.

Then there’s the matter of football season. Between the months of August and February, I have dubbed myself a football widow. I even joined a website called Women Against Fantasy Sports, as a joke. In addition to my husband’s business travel, he makes it a goal to attend as many NFL games as possible.

Due to the fact that we live in Utah, and there are NO football stadiums here, he has to travel. Additionally, I tend to root against U of U and BYU football, just for the sake of not sending my husband to the Vegas or the Poinsettia bowl every year right before Christmas... Last year, he went to both.

Since those teams have not cooperated with me, I find myself (and Santa) getting ready for Christmas, alone.

He has even gone so far, as to create an incentive program with his customers at work, in which they can earn a football trip once a year, so that he can go to a game and write off the cost. He’s clever that way. Of course, after February, it’s basketball, arena football, then baseball. He has season tickets to the Jazz, the Buzz, and the Blaze every year.

I’ve learned over the years to accept the fact that he won’t be here a lot of the time, and that I’m not necessarily number one all the time.

I used to be really bitter and resentful. Then, I realized that there’s nothing I can do about it, so I might as well make the best of the situation. I stopped listening to my friends who constantly asked me how I could put up with that. Well, he’s a good husband, and father and provider. He’s not looking at porn, he’s not cheating on me, and he isn’t an alcoholic and he doesn’t beat me. He’s kind and good and very supportive of me. And he loves me.

And it works for us. And honestly, I think if he were home at 5:00 every day I probably wouldn’t know what to do with him anyway.

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