[LS1995]

Tall, blond, loving, poofy bang wearing, goofy woman is how everyone knew her, my mom. When I think back I remember when we were small, we had a lot of fun. She would put on music while we cleaned, she’d dance and make weird faces to make us laugh. She would take us to neighborhood fireworks- where we ended up running from the falling shells. I remember how she always encouraged us to play bingo with Grandma Rose. I remember how she loved watching Grandpa play his dulcimer, or watching late night law and order.

 

My favorite thing about her was her cooking. Mom loved to cook. Potato salad, cold slaw, peanut butter cookies with the fork marks in the middle. That woman put love into anything she cooked- even if it was frozen chicken rings and smiley face fries! The best though, was when she would get up before us and make pancakes. She would add chocolate chips sometimes and even though it’d be from a pre made mix…there was just something about moms pancakes in the morning.

 

My mom was all these wonderful things, but she was also sick. As a child you don’t understand the severity of things, or why things happen, but as an adult I can look back and say my mom was very very ill. She was ill before I was born and never got better. She dealt with things I’m sure I’ll never know about. Just like you and me, she had her demons. Nightmares. Especially after suffering the loss of a child, depression haunted her- I’m sure.

 

My mom was an alcoholic. I’m not talking the every so often drinker, glass of wine a night, glass of scotch every now and again drinker. She drank every day. Morning, noon, and night. Please don’t downplay alcoholism, please understand that alcoholism is an addiction. Most of the time it is used as a self medication to mask psychiatric unrest.

 

Once dependent on this form of medicine, it is hard to move away from. Not impossible, but a huge hurtle even still. The severity of which is often overlooked and the people effected usually suffer for it. You see, she used alcohol to find ways to cope with her demons, or maybe it started as a habit that got out of hand.

 

After coming home from her job at a nursing home, Mom would crack open a can of coke. That coke was poured over a glass of ice and Jack Daniels. When neighbors were over, there would always be beer or liquor passed around. After pancakes.. came a shot of Jack. Mom drank a lot. When we came over every other weekend, she was drunk more than she was sober. Night or day. Some days, after she got done throwing up from the night before, the bile would be washed down with a swig of jack and coke.

 

Everything changed after one sip. We’d ask her not to- knowing what was coming. She’d snap at us. She’d try to save face early on, but her words would slur…so we knew. Unable to connect with her we would usually go to bed, or play outside. She’d get angry over the smallest things- like the tv being to loud, she’d get fitful when she couldn’t make something work.

 

Once, when we didn’t turn the tv down fast enough, mom grabbed the remote and threw it across the apartment. It hit the fridge and broke apart. She was loud and angry when she was drunk, and when she wasn’t angry.. she was sad. So she’d drink some more. On occasion it would get bad… she’d be angry at some outside source and yell at us directly.

 

It was very rare that I had anyone stay with me when we were at moms. On one of these rare occasion, mom had an argument with her boyfriend over the phone, he’d been late coming home. The chaos was scaring my friend, so I started yelling at her to stop. She yelled back, throwing her shoes and storming into the living room. My friend, brother and I rushed through the door and out of the apartment. We hid outside between two buildings, our Dad called the cops and came to get us. That night she was arrested for child endangerment, she was bailed out within a few days. She continued to drink afterwards.

 

Remember that goofy lady, who loved her family and made the best pancakes that I told you about in the beginning. This sounds like a different person, doesn’t it? That is because she was. After that first drink she wasn’t the mother I wanted to come and see. She was the mother I kept my head down around, that I got another beer for, that I tried to hide the other bottle from. As I grew older I began asking myself what I did to deserve this? Why does my mom choose alcohol over me? I became angry and bitter. I eventually stopped going over.

 

I cannot remember much of my childhood, some things I should recall have been blocked out so long that even when I try, I can’t. I do remember that I answered when she called some of the time. That I always had an excuse as to why I couldn’t come over. I remember thinking it was nice, to talk with her over the phone- when she was clear of alcohol. Then the calls started to turn into her informing me she’d been in the hospital for strange reasons. I can’t remember the reasons, but I do remember them not making much sense.

 

On May May 17th 2012 we found out that the hospital had been trying to reach family members for a week. When they finally were able to get ahold of someone, all of the family went to visit her. It was surreal. Seeing my mom seemingly asleep, unaware of how sick she was. I wrote a note on a napkin.. about how she needed to hurry and wake up so that we could have pancakes together. After the visit, late at night, the hospital let us know she wouldn’t make it through to morning. We didn’t get to say proper goodbyes to each other, she never woke up. Later that night, she died. She’d poisoned her insides with alcohol, and her liver had failed.

 

As an adult I realize now that it wasn’t that my mother chose alcohol over me, or my brother, or big sister. My mother became dependent on alcohol to cope with her troubles. My mom was never ready to take the step back and admit she had a problem, that she needed help. Which is the first stage to getting past dependency, a moment of clarity. Admitting your vice. She never admitted hers, and never got the proper help she desperately needed. Her children, brothers, sisters, cousins and rest of her giant extended family full of friends and everyone she ever knew… love and miss her so much.

 

If your reading this, you may be a family member of someone who is alcoholic. Maybe, as a friend or relative, this read helps you realize you’re not alone. If your young, like my siblings and I were, I need you to know that it’s not you’re fault. You are not your parent or guardian’s keeper. Reach out to a responsible adult, let them know what is going on and keep pushing it. Let others know that your loved one needs help. That’s all you can do. You cannot magically change an alcoholic person overnight. Talking to them when they’re sober, or dumping their alcohol down the drain sometimes doesn’t work and that’s not your fault. Know that this isn’t happening because of you, you are a bystander and possibly even a victim of their sickness. It’s not your fault.

 

I’ve struggled for so long with my decision to stop seeing my mom, all those years ago. Distancing myself from her, when it all got to be too much. If you are in the situation I was, that my siblings where. Know that you are not responsible for your parent. Once you’ve reached out, to them, to responsible adults, it is really and truly out of your hands. The blame is not yours, and this demon is not your responsibility to fight. I felt so selfish, for so long. I felt I stood by and let my mother kill herself. That’s just not true. What is true, is that the three of us were only children, doing our best to survive an illness that effects everything it touches.

 

Maybe you’re the alcoholic.. I tell my moms story not to guilt trip you, or for a pity party. I wanted to get the story out for my own piece of mind, and to help people. Maybe this read is one that pushes you to take that first step, towards choosing a real life. Maybe this helps you to realize that you are not the only one you are hurting. The people around you are enormously effected. That the bottle you depends on is killing you, from the inside out.

 

Maybe you’re thinking I’m not nearly this bad. Maybe that’s true. But if you’re reading this, it’s likely you’re coping with alcohol and you’ve been sent this because someone in your life is worried. I beg you, please listen. Know the people around you want to help you, but sometimes don’t know how. Maybe they’ve been trying to help you for so long, they can’t anymore. Know that you can take hold of this, shake it free of you. Know that you are loved. That there are resources out there to help you. That you can overcome this. That you’re not alone. The road to recovery, to choosing life, is not an easy one. Pride is going to have to be set aside to allow others to help. Please let others help.

 

Intervention is a tried and true method to help an alcoholic recognize what they are doing. AA meetings and rehab offer the peer support needed to combat this and relearn how to live life. Most importantly though, is to make a commitment to therapy. There are ways to beat this, to have your moment of clarity and keep that momentum. There is no shame in having an outside source help you to get there.

 

Husbands, wives, children of…The person you’ve been thinking about while reading this is going to need a lot of help to recover, but please be careful and take care of yourself as well. Don’t try to be the sole savior, it will take its toll on you to try. So please, seek professional help for them instead. There are people and places out there that are equipped to help your family.

 

Adult family and friends..don’t shy away. Don’t pretend it’s not happening. Be active and helpful, find resources in your area. The worst thing you can do is be silent. Your silence is enabling, and does nothing to help the situation. Please reach out to their children, no matter how old, and support them too. In many many ways, they are fighting a battle too.

 

This is not a journey to be taken alone. I am praying for you. Thank you.

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