Black, blue, and yellow is the color of my covered up skin. Mountains of held back tears are hidden behind my brown eyes. A broken heart full of promises made that was never kept. Ashamed and embarrassed are feelings carried on my shoulders. Fear of not knowing what actions lie behind the door of a once lovable home. Waiting for the sound of silence to let me know my mom has passed out. Bean burritos from the corner market down the street become the dinner meal my sister and I got use too. What is alcoholism? Alcoholism is a very powerful disease that consumers a person and tears apart everyone around him or her.
Within such a short period of time my sister and I saw with our own eyes our mom transform from happy to hateful. In the beginning our mom was happy, playful and funny. Our mom’s actions were unusual to both my sister and I. Our mom use to be very structured with her budget and with my sister and me as to what we were allowed to do. Our mom was now acting as if money grew on trees. My sister and I were nine years old and running the streets as if we were teenagers, loving every minute of freedom. Being young and ignorant my sister and I saw our mom as the coolest parent ever. Nights became lonely and late with no parent insight. An empty frig with only brown beer bottles were present. It was midnight before the car lights shined through the front window. Our mom stumbled up the stairs to the back door. My sister and I questioned our mom as to where she had been. Our mom lashed out verbally. My sister and I asked what was for dinner. Our mom lashed out again. Who was this person masked in our mother’s skin? Reeking of alcohol and stale cigarette smell seeping from our mom’s skin, she stumbled her way to her bedroom. She slammed the door causing the family photo to fall off the wall to the floor, cracking the glass. There is always a happy beginning but rarely a happy ending with alcoholism.
Alcoholism is forgetting the person inside and becoming someone else. Dragging herself out of bed to call in sick to work became routine for our mom. The morning after always caused so much pain for my sister and I, our mom would act as if the night before never happened. Not remembering the arguments and fighting, my mom acts as if everything was peachy keen among us all. Frustrated and angry at our mom’s action my sister and I began to rebel. As years went on the devil that grew inside my mom became more and more evil. Always uncertain of the personality my sister and I would have present, we felt as if we were living on egg shells. Saying the wrong thing or saying something that was interpreted differently by our mother caused her to fly off the handle. Our mom was once a bar scene lady, now a stay at home drunk. As the current memories represented only horror for my sister and me, the past good memories became forgotten. Empty bottles strung from one side of the house to the other, by our mother, became the visual that my sister and I lived. My sister and I had to parent our mother who should be parenting us. Escorting our mother to her bedroom, undressing her, and tucking her in for the night became a normal evening for my sister and me. Money began to fall short for food. My sisters and I learned how to cook top roman multiple ways. Alcoholism is a broken promise after a broken promise.
Alcoholism is being offered help but not wanting to accept it. After years of denial and on the verge of losing her job, our mom’s employer stepped in to assist with treatment. It was light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel. Filled with hope my sister and I attended the alcohol counseling sessions with our mom. This allowed my sister and me to present our feelings in a secure environment. To know why our mom drinks to forget, she must figure out what exactly she is thrive to forget and deal with it. With so much hope for recovery my sister and I were blinded of the fact that our mom was still drinking. It was the beginning all over again with an express lane to a never ending nightmare. Worn down and fed up with the drama my sister and I accepted there was no help for our mom who did not want it; our family began to break up.
Alcoholism is distance. Moving out and on our own was like winning the lottery for my sister and I. The best day of our lives! My sister and I were free from the reoccurring putdowns that were pounded into heads. My sister and I were ready for the challenge of living on our own, because we had pretty much raised our selves since we were seven years old. Free from the physical pain my sister and I found that we were stuck in the verbal one. Obnoxious phone calls were received daily from our mom. The phone call always started off decent but quickly turned into an argument. Being aware of the time of the call, my sister and I were able to assume when it would be O.K. to answer the phone. The bond my sister and I once had with our mom began to dwindle. Because our mom was now unable to show emotions of her own, my sister and I turned to each other for emotional support.
Alcoholism is uncomfortable. Holidays became the only time our family got together. It always seemed like a battle field. All our feelings that were bottled up exploited like fireworks. The event always ended early and with regrets. As time has gone on my sister and I now have our own families and do not see each other much except for a rare occasion.
Alcoholism is unhealthy. A constant stench of body odor that smells like soured alcohol follows our mom everywhere she goes. Our mom once very active and health now suffers from high blood pressure and liver problems. Our mom, aged rapidly on the outside as well as on the inside of the body. Our mom has a yellow tint to her eyes and skin. She has chicken legs with a bloated face and belly. To avoid from withdrawals and allow our mom to focus, she has to drink a glass of alcohol just to start the day. Because of our mom’s defeated immune system she is prone to pneumonia and other illnesses. Almost a pure image of schizophrenia our mom carries on conversations with herself that do not make any sense at all. Once a beautiful, inspired young woman our mom is now viewed as a crazy old hag.
Alcoholism is a cycle of a painful, messy disease. My sister and I were shown one way to deal with life and now we will choose to embrace or reject it. My sister and I may follow the destructive path shown to us, looking for ways to forget the pain that was caused, and continue the cycle of alcoholism. On the other hand my sister and I may choose to prove everyone wrong and rise above.
Within such a short period of time my sister and I saw with our own eyes our mom transform from happy to hateful. In the beginning our mom was happy, playful and funny. Our mom’s actions were unusual to both my sister and I. Our mom use to be very structured with her budget and with my sister and me as to what we were allowed to do. Our mom was now acting as if money grew on trees. My sister and I were nine years old and running the streets as if we were teenagers, loving every minute of freedom. Being young and ignorant my sister and I saw our mom as the coolest parent ever. Nights became lonely and late with no parent insight. An empty frig with only brown beer bottles were present. It was midnight before the car lights shined through the front window. Our mom stumbled up the stairs to the back door. My sister and I questioned our mom as to where she had been. Our mom lashed out verbally. My sister and I asked what was for dinner. Our mom lashed out again. Who was this person masked in our mother’s skin? Reeking of alcohol and stale cigarette smell seeping from our mom’s skin, she stumbled her way to her bedroom. She slammed the door causing the family photo to fall off the wall to the floor, cracking the glass. There is always a happy beginning but rarely a happy ending with alcoholism.
Alcoholism is forgetting the person inside and becoming someone else. Dragging herself out of bed to call in sick to work became routine for our mom. The morning after always caused so much pain for my sister and I, our mom would act as if the night before never happened. Not remembering the arguments and fighting, my mom acts as if everything was peachy keen among us all. Frustrated and angry at our mom’s action my sister and I began to rebel. As years went on the devil that grew inside my mom became more and more evil. Always uncertain of the personality my sister and I would have present, we felt as if we were living on egg shells. Saying the wrong thing or saying something that was interpreted differently by our mother caused her to fly off the handle. Our mom was once a bar scene lady, now a stay at home drunk. As the current memories represented only horror for my sister and me, the past good memories became forgotten. Empty bottles strung from one side of the house to the other, by our mother, became the visual that my sister and I lived. My sister and I had to parent our mother who should be parenting us. Escorting our mother to her bedroom, undressing her, and tucking her in for the night became a normal evening for my sister and me. Money began to fall short for food. My sisters and I learned how to cook top roman multiple ways. Alcoholism is a broken promise after a broken promise.
Alcoholism is being offered help but not wanting to accept it. After years of denial and on the verge of losing her job, our mom’s employer stepped in to assist with treatment. It was light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel. Filled with hope my sister and I attended the alcohol counseling sessions with our mom. This allowed my sister and me to present our feelings in a secure environment. To know why our mom drinks to forget, she must figure out what exactly she is thrive to forget and deal with it. With so much hope for recovery my sister and I were blinded of the fact that our mom was still drinking. It was the beginning all over again with an express lane to a never ending nightmare. Worn down and fed up with the drama my sister and I accepted there was no help for our mom who did not want it; our family began to break up.
Alcoholism is distance. Moving out and on our own was like winning the lottery for my sister and I. The best day of our lives! My sister and I were free from the reoccurring putdowns that were pounded into heads. My sister and I were ready for the challenge of living on our own, because we had pretty much raised our selves since we were seven years old. Free from the physical pain my sister and I found that we were stuck in the verbal one. Obnoxious phone calls were received daily from our mom. The phone call always started off decent but quickly turned into an argument. Being aware of the time of the call, my sister and I were able to assume when it would be O.K. to answer the phone. The bond my sister and I once had with our mom began to dwindle. Because our mom was now unable to show emotions of her own, my sister and I turned to each other for emotional support.
Alcoholism is uncomfortable. Holidays became the only time our family got together. It always seemed like a battle field. All our feelings that were bottled up exploited like fireworks. The event always ended early and with regrets. As time has gone on my sister and I now have our own families and do not see each other much except for a rare occasion.
Alcoholism is unhealthy. A constant stench of body odor that smells like soured alcohol follows our mom everywhere she goes. Our mom once very active and health now suffers from high blood pressure and liver problems. Our mom, aged rapidly on the outside as well as on the inside of the body. Our mom has a yellow tint to her eyes and skin. She has chicken legs with a bloated face and belly. To avoid from withdrawals and allow our mom to focus, she has to drink a glass of alcohol just to start the day. Because of our mom’s defeated immune system she is prone to pneumonia and other illnesses. Almost a pure image of schizophrenia our mom carries on conversations with herself that do not make any sense at all. Once a beautiful, inspired young woman our mom is now viewed as a crazy old hag.
Alcoholism is a cycle of a painful, messy disease. My sister and I were shown one way to deal with life and now we will choose to embrace or reject it. My sister and I may follow the destructive path shown to us, looking for ways to forget the pain that was caused, and continue the cycle of alcoholism. On the other hand my sister and I may choose to prove everyone wrong and rise above.
Even though this is obviously very personal subject for you, you did an amazing job writing about it. I too know this subject personally and its sometimes difficult to express for others to understand, especially on a deeper level. You did a great job on doing that though.
ReplyDeleteDaniele S.
Heart-breaking, but beautifully revised. Thanks for sharing with us.
ReplyDelete