Wednesday, December 8, 2010

To my daughter...

My dearest Alea,

I know you want answers to your question, “Why would you buy Dad vodka when your life is so much better now that he’s not drinking?” I know you are upset because I still have not totally addressed the issue.

The answer is not simple because maybe I don’t think I even really know with absolute certainty that I would even buy the vodka, let alone why I would buy it.

But, I think I understand the underlying fear that you cannot acknowledge out loud. Although this is a public forum, I know you feel safe within the confines of this blog. So, I’m going to try to address the fear rather than the question. I’ll address the question in my next post – I promise.

More importantly, I promise that I will stay safe.  I know I have health issues and I will take the best possible care of myself.  And, I will do everything in my power to keep you from losing me to the insanity monster that lives just outside my window.

My protecting you includes protecting you from losing me. I could not protect Brian and losing him was devastating to both of us. I failed him. I will not fail you.

I cannot protect you from the pain of losing your father. But, you have already accepted the fact that he is dying and cannot or will not be saved. You have mourned and dealt with that loss.

If I become the ranting, raving, lunatic that the alcoholic monster has been known to bring out in me, I will get help. Arrangements have been made with your Auntie Carrot. She has accepted the job of protecting me because she is not emotionally attached to your father. She is, however, attached to you and has the same desire to protect you as I do. (Do you remember the nickname given to us “Interchangeable Mothers”?) I will not be alone if/when your father resumes drinking.

Do not worry about the “why”. Help me protect you as I could not do with Brian by trusting me to keep you safe.

I love you, my little Alea-Bee…

Mom

2 comments:

Michelle N. said...

This brought tears to my eyes. My alcoholic is my father. My brother ran across your site recently and sent my twin sister and Me your link. We are all three amazed at how much your life with Riley mirrors the life of our father.

I admire your strength and bravery in your posts and I have sent a post or two to my enabler mother who gets angry with me.

I especially appreciate your determination to protect Alea from the crazy, demented life of having to deal with an alcoholic. Our mother did not protect us from our father and we are all three emotionally scarred from his words and actions that cut like a knife or led us to feel disgusted, dirty and not good enough. My father's alcoholism , even though I am an adult and don't live at my parents' home anymore, has effected my adversely in so many ways and to this day affects me.

Dad has gone though all the things Riley has, the vomiting, soiling himself and the floor, multiple trips via ambulance to the hospital because of seizures caused by his alcoholism, cleanliness OCD yet he won't get off the couch to do a bit of cleaning and like Riley, no longer cleans himself like he used to, the addictions to porn, gambling, women, etc, EXCEPT Dad has never quit drinking. He will quit when he dies and the three of us "kids" hope it will happen soon, though we know it probably won't. He has been non functional for nearly 10 years now and still keeps on ticking.

I could go on and on.....we are just waiting for finality , maybe then we can emotionally heal and be "normal".

Thank you again for blogging. You are a strong woman.

Michelle

Midwest Marie said...

michelle, well said. for those of you reading this reply I am michelles twin sister. This blog is hard to read because it sounds as if this is being written about our father who is in end stage alcoholism. It's also helpful to know we are not alone in the craziness that family members of alcoholics face. Our father has chosen to continue to drink even after a diagnosis of cirrhosis of the liver. Im feeling intense anger having recently returned from making an emergency trip from Tn to Oregon where our alcoholic father lives with our mother.