My alcoholism [part 1]

I’ve been throwing daggers. I know. Here is where I begin to talk about my drinking. I’ve been sober for four years and every minute of every day since has been fighting for my very basic human survival essential. I am admittedly both sensitive and defensive. That comes with good reason. That is not denial, it’s a fact.

In order to get to my drinking, I need to set the stage with my background.

Mother was an alcoholic throughout my childhood. In the 1970’s and well into the 80’s, nobody talked about drinking and it’s effects. Alcoholism wasn’t brought up with kids at all. Not in my house anyway. There weren’t teachers to confide in. School counselors only offered council on grades and curriculum. When I showed what today would be considered a slew of red flags to teachers for “problems at home”, I was given a dunce hat and another occasion thrown in remedial math. By todays rules they’d each be in jail or on parole.

Just like Vegas, what happened in the 1970’s..

As a teen, I rebelled until it was clear I was better off at an alternative (high) school. I didn’t get into trouble and I wasn’t skipping classes. I was still really shy and was the girl at the back of the class with a leather jacket. I hadn’t even earned an attitude problem yet. I would try and participate in class which was hard for me. I was terrified to be called on in class even if I knew the answer. My face would turn red, I’d start sweating and physically shaking. Kids in the class would call me out and let me know how red I was, as though I weren’t already painfully aware. Mother hid her drinking pretty well. I didn’t really think too much of it. I knew there was always a box of cheap wine in the fridge but I didn’t pay attention to how often it was a new box. But then I would have friends over from time to time. Not often, because mother has earned a “crazy” title with my friends. Mostly from me talking shit, but she earned it herself too. It was embarrassing. Really, really embarrassing. Once I bought my first POS car, a Bobcat with my own money that I earned bagging groceries for $3.36/hour (a penny over min wage, then they’d take out union dues) - I was out the door. Yes, a Bobcat….Mercury’s answer to a Pinto. I didn’t care, I was free!

It was a while after I had my freedom that Mother told me she was an alcoholic but she had stopped drinking. She said she was in recovery and explained further how alcoholism was a disease. She said it in a manner that it was factual.

Like cancer.

She expected full absolve then and there. She showed me her AA token like it was a prize.

I wouldn’t give it to her then. I called bullshit. I understood genetics and abuse enough at that point to have some semblance of a clue of reality. By then I smoked pot and grew an attitude. I told her then - how I was glad she stopped. I said I understand that people with the disease couldn’t stop once they had that first drink.

But I balked, and told her the first drink was an actual conscious decision. And for that, I had no forgiveness. I still feel that way. I don’t feel I have the right to ask that of my children. I don’t deserve it. I haven’t forgiven myself yet. I’ve been busy fighting to stay alive for three solid years. I don’t think about whether I deserve forgiveness. Why would I?

This photo was taken in July of 2017. I was miserable and about 50 lbs overweight. I was nursing 4 broken ribs. No idea how I smiled.. I was past the ‘point of no return’ with my drinking. I couldn’t get out of bed without a glass of wine. Not because I wanted a buzz but it was all my body would take and keep down. I couldn’t hold down water. Not even a sip. My cirrhosis of the liver diagnosis came to light as a result of being medically treated for my broken ribs.