I don’t miss alcohol, I miss the atmosphere of alcohol and sometimes the attitude that came with it.
I was usually surrounded by older attractive men that took me to bars before I was allowed to be in them and concerts I probably never would’ve went to. When I was drunk I was usually sarcastic and funny but eventually I would cross that line into cruelty. It happened more often towards the end of my drinking. How I behaved also depended on who I was around. If I was with happy people I was okay. If I was with my old friends it was a different story.
I can’t sugar coat it too much. These men shouldn’t have been giving large amounts of alcohol to a 16 year old girl when they were all around 25/26 years old. Some were a little older. There were only a few that did not have prison records.
In the beginning they would tell my I was pretty and flirt with me. No one had ever shown me any attention like that before. I should’ve known better. I wanted people to like me so badly I didn’t care what it cost me.
What I didn’t realize was my alcoholism and decisions would ultimately cost me everyone and everything.
I feel like I’m at the beginning and trying hard not to beg for love and attention.
There were events that occurred while I was drinking early on that I don’t remember and some I wish I could forget. This is where my Conversion Disorder comes in. I never know when it will be triggered and what happened yesterday scared me.
What I remember is a man’s deep angry voice, blood and fear. From what my Dad said I was sitting in my chair rocking back and forth saying “It’s okay, Mom said we have to throw them out there’s too much blood. Too much blood. Too much blood. Too much blood.” I was staring at a tissue in my hand that was filled with blood.
What happened was my Dad yelled at the dog, then he yelled at me, I was crying and my nose started to bleed. All of this triggered one of the worst episodes I’ve had. I had to talk to my Doctor and go over what might have led up to it. This meant I had to ask my Dad and I didn’t want to upset him again. Always on eggshells.
It’s scary when you don’t remember an hour of a day where you think your Mom is alive in it’s a completely different year. My Dad’s anxiety and anger is triggering me more and more. He’s on dialysis and his Doctor said he has about 3 and half years left. You can’t give my Dad any kind of time limit, he’s obsessed with time as it is. I don’t want to leave him alone, I refuse to. My sister won’t check on him and my brother won’t either.
I’ll give up what’s left of my sanity if it means he isn’t alone in his final years because no one should be. I care too much to do that. I don’t understand how his other children don’t.