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Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Don't call me when you're drunk....

Here's the thing....
I grew up with two alcoholic dads.
I loved them as I live and breathe and worshiped every single breath they took, but I'm scarred.
I'll always be scarred as the adult daughter of alcoholics.

I don't usually write about these things, but when things hit me in my life and bring back old emotion as they were freshly occurring - they come out here.

Yesterday I had a dealing with someone I KNEW was absolutely blasted.  Worse was that it was 1:40 pm.  More worse is that it happened during the work day.  Further worse is that it involved business - and par for the course - the drunkenness was denied.

I have many of you, whom I adore, who are recovering alcoholics who will know all the signs I go through.  I am so in awe of you for battling your demons and continuing to do so every single day.

Today I cannot be forgiving.  I cannot be kind.  I cannot turn my back for one more second.

Today I am feeling all of the emotions of a 15 year old girl whose dad just came home from work blotto.

Who shall I be right now??  What kind of mood is he in??  Is he going to yell at me??  Is he going to hit me??  Is the house clean enough??  Did I do all of my chores??  What am I in trouble for??

That was me, many years ago.  Uncomfortable & afraid.

Today, I am on the verge of tears feeling tension in my chest, in my arms - hot heat rising up through my back in a total bout of uncomfortableness wondering what tomorrow will be.

...and the situation does NOT directly affect my life

I remember the conversations of complete nonsense.  The mean words that come with a half assed apology because you "didn't mean it that way."  The slurring because you're "tired." 
Well bullshit!  I'm tired too.  Lots of people are tired.  I'm pretty sure I'm not slurring my words, neither are those other tired people.  You're not tired.  You're DRUNK.

Yes, Yes.... I know you quit drinking.  I know that "on the wagon" routine too.

Is there a bottle of vodka neatly hidden in the tank of the toilet for a quick hit later??  We smell the beer.  We may not smell the vodka.  You may think you're blowing it by - but you are NOT.
You are NOT blowing it by.  You are just drunk faster.  You are more drunk and less in control than if you had a beer.  You are meaner.  You are stupider and you are saying mean things and hurting those around you.

Yes, I know you.

I know who you are and I'm telling you that YOU NEED HELP!

I cannot help you and I know that you will not stop until YOU want to.  Until YOU hit your own personal rock bottom.

I'm here to tell you that you're not taking me with you.

I am an adult daughter of alcoholic parents.

I am speaking to you, who are hurting those around you.

Love yourself enough to love them.

We know.
We always know.
...even if we don't say so.

Thank you for reading my blog.


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  1. Jenn I feel you. I remember days when my stepfather would come home from 'work' at 9:00 completely ossified and we'd hold our breath to see which was his beverage of choice, beer or whiskey. That made a HUGE difference in his mood. Hateful memories.

    1. I'm sorry you have this too. And yes... the beverage of choice DID made a huge difference in the mood at hand. I always feel incredibly blessed that illness made my dad (step) HAVE to quit drinking so that we could actually have a really positive relationship before he died. Big hugs. Thank you for commenting & being right here with me <3

  2. Oh yes, I know the feeling. It's extremely hard for you to help anyone when they don't want to acknowledge there is a problem, and when they won't accept any advice or help. You just have to wait it out until they see the light, I guess.

    What they don't realise, is all the terrible memories they leave you with for the rest of your life, like your parents. It's such a shame though. Sorry you had to go through this, but at least you now can see the signs and recognise what is going on when someone has a problem with alcohol. I hope you truly have a Happy and peaceful New Year.


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