Growing Up With A Drunken Father
As long as I can remember my father
has always had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was also a very violent man, as well as manipulative and controlling. He was capable of brainwashing anyone. He prowled after young boys. After the Mormon church found out that when he was teaching young men's classes he was showing the boys **** the only thing the church did was kick him out of his calling. He would scream at my mother for hours and hours a time. Hitting her with his hand as well as weapons. He would wake her up in the middle of the night to make her "fix her problem," He wouldn't let her go to the bathroom, and she had an accident at least once. When I was little I was the brave one of my two sisters and I. I would draw my mom pictures and try to slide them over to her before my dad could ****** them away, as well as bring her lengths of toilet paper to wipe her tears. One time my dad had promised to never do that ever again. Of course the next day he had my mom down on the bed, choking her. At three years old I pried myself in between the and pushed my father away from my mother and screamed "you promised you wouldn't do this anymore!" One night as my mother was tucking us into bed I said to her "This is normal isn't it mom? All families are like this?" My mom was devastated. Not long after my fifth birthday, my older sister 13, my younger sister three she finally left my dad. After long while we started having overnight visits at my fathers house. He was usually smashed the whole time, Passing out for hours on the couch. Although he treated my sisters and I well most of the time, it was still hard. When I was 7 and my sister was 5 he started trickling sexual ideas into our head. We stayed at his house for a month in the summer, after one summer my little sister came home opening ************ using methods that I doubt and little girl could figure out on their own so quickly, and trying to stick her tongue in my moms mouth when ever she kissed her. She would say "Daddy taught my how to kiss mommy" When I was eight he started trying to touch me appropriately. I immediately told my mother and visits were soon taken a way. A few years later, after moving to colorado and back to utah, starting supervised visits, and then having day visits back at his house his drinking had gotten worse. Even though it was court ordered that he was not allowed to have alcohol at all in the house he had a bottle of jack daniel's on the counter that would eventually disappear. One day my sister asked my dad if she could have a drink of his water. He quickly said that he will get her her own special glass of water before she could take a drink. Later she just picked up his drink and took a sip, her face twisted with disgust. "That's not water!" she said. We all laughed, but my heart sunk. My dad, every time we saw him, was drinking glass after glass of vodka disguised as water. Not long after that he said we weren't allowed at his house anymore because we were getting him in trouble. Almost a year later, on my birthday, my friend came over with a cake they had made for me. My mom waited for the fun to die down a bit and pulled me to the side. She told me that my dad was in the hospital with liver and kidney failure and he might now make it. I was shocked. I ended that party, and my mom, sister, boyfriend, and I all drove to the hospital to see him. I hid my tears from my boyfriend the best I could on the way there. We got to the hospital and entered the room he was in. I was shocked to see a once healthy as a horse man now on the brink of death. He was yellow, his eyes were yellow, his abdomen was swollen with fluid and swelling in his liver. I wondered what would happen, kind of hoping he'd pass just so it was over with if he was going to die. He had a 60 percent chance of dying. But he pulled through. He got better, and soon he was out of the hospital. Soon after that my old father was back. (his good side) We went to his house to visit, he took us camping and fishing. He even let me bring my boyfriend along. He would call us when he was in our town and take us to breakfast. We ate thanksgiving at his house. But what I hoped would last did not. A few months ago he again started saying weird things that didn't make sense. He stopped answering our phone calls and our texts. He has once again disappeared from my life. If he's drinking, I would feel so sad, yet at the same time relieved, if he passed away. I might then get my older sister back, and Lisa his "girlfriend" would go back to her family. I would worry about whether or not I was doing enough to have my fathers love and friendship. Am I a terrible person?