an alcoholic’s daughter

I guess it’s time to mention that a huge influence on my childhood, was my alcoholic mother.

for those of us who grew up in a household with an alcoholic, I don’t have to explain much to you.  you know very well the torment that brings.  for those who have no idea… I thank God for you, that you never had to experience it!

as I mentioned, my childhood wasn’t the most pleasant.  I was raised by my dad [uncle] and my stepmom until the age of 7 1/2.  at that time, I moved in with my mother, and my half sister.. and a new stepdad.  all was well, until my stepdad died suddenly of a brain tumor.  this sent my mother, who already had a lifetime of trauma, into a tailspin.  she found comfort in the bottom of a beer can, and has never found her way out. 

nothing was sure or steady.  I can remember waking up in the middle of the night, alone.. just my sister and I.. no idea where mom was.  or being drug to adult parties.. where kids were put down for the night and tried to sleep through loud music and the smell of drugs in the air, and the sounds of drunks lumbering about.  later years, being left to our own devices for meals and homework, and school activities.  mom coming in drunk and stumbling through the house.  lucky if we weren’t woken up to hear all about how the house was a mess, etc.  or maybe she just wanted to lay into one of us, to make herself feel better.  we never knew.  my sister protecting me.. by stepping in front of me, to take a blow from our drunk mother.  yes, you read that correctly, mother was also abusive.  verbal, so much so that it would cut you to the bone.  and the physical.. well, let’s just say that the words ‘chew your way out of a wall’ weren’t so far off in our house.  I swear I should have the back of her hand permanently imprinted on my face. 

oh the damage this life was doing to my poor sister.  as a child, I didn’t understand why she continued to run away, or began to drink and do drugs herself.  as an adult, I sit in amazement that I never fell into that life myself.  my sister, poor dear thing.. she is so damaged.  starting to do drugs and alcohol at such a young age, has eaten away her brain.  she is a nervous, anxious, depressed, and bipolar mess.  I hurt for her.  somehow, she didn’t fare the warzone as I did.  she didn’t have the coping mechanisms I did.. or more clearly, the lock boxes.

today, my mother is still struggling with her disease.  and sadly, she is also struggling with the aftermath of her actions, and lives with her haunting of guilt.  she has apologized and been forgiven.. yet continues to carry her burden of guilt with her every day.  her pain is eating her alive, and it pains me so, to watch her torment.  she is a wonderful woman, with a heart as big as texas.. who has had a lifetime of pain of her own.  she did the best with what she had, and what very little she knew at her age.  have I forgotten? it is clear, I have not.  however, she is truly forgiven.. and I pray for her healing.

until next time… blessings!