From Where I Sit...

A vivid memory, a moment in my lifetime, a part of my childhood, I remember it. It was my birthday maybe 7th or 8th, we were at family friend’s house and Leeds Utd had won something. It was also the first day I realised my dad was an alcoholic. Not in an alcoholic way I now know, but in a way that my dad was different from other people when he drank wine. I also distinctly remember the embarrassment.

It has in fact only been in the last 6 months as I am in my 34th year of life that I can say out aloud (and still selectively) my dad is an alcoholic and its killing him. Phew even writing that on here feels so formal, so real, so not a lie.

I have only just, in this last period of time, come to fully understand the extent to which an alcoholic lives, how they lie, how they deny themselves life and how they deny the disease that has taken hold, the choice of living in such a sad way. That in turn has only just become a realisation about how that has impacted my whole entire life.

I am angry so very angry. I want to see it as a mental illness, a disease, an addiction. But I honestly cant; I see it as weak, selfish and so fiercely and horribly stubborn. It eats you up, gobbles you down and spits you out the other side. And for us the family, it leaves you feeling, empty, powerless, sad and with little hope.

The eternal optimist is me, I see the best side of most parts of life, I think angels support us and guide us, I feel everything has certain serendipity, I believe fate is inevitable and if we live with positivity and attraction to what we want we will receive.

So how come right now I feel the most pessimistic I have ever felt. I have never had this sensation and it has never overwhelmed me and consumed me quite as much as it does right now. Actually I lie slightly, I have felt this once before, I have felt this loss, this grief, I have felt like what is the point, when I lost my friend, my beautiful friend, tragically, quickly in a minute. Life can change, and it can change quickly.

But right now I am nowhere, I am standing in no mans land unsure of where to run! There is no where to run and there is sharp shooters all around. I can not see the abundant distant land and I certainly can not see the sun. I just see that grief and it is consuming me.

But he is still alive. He is still here…

alcopapakid alcopapakid
31-35, F
1 Response Jan 15, 2013

It's so hard. My dad was one too, not something I can admit every day. He died when I was 19 related to that and I'm still not over it. One of my biggest regrets, maybe the biggest, is I didn't push my family harder to try an intervention, get him into rehab before it was too late. I wish we had tried, I'm not saying it would have worked. I guess that's what I would recommend, just because I personally feel sick for not doing it sometimes. Judge the situation for yourself, though.

I don't believe they know the pain they cause to others as well as their selves. It is hardest on family and I relate to feeling like "I am nowhere. . .unsure of where to run and there is sharp shooters all around. . . and certainly can not see the sun. . ."