Feels like a punch to the gut
Hi, it’s my first post. Where do I even begin?
My dad has been alcoholic since I can remember, for about the first 25-30 years of my life he was a functioning alcoholic, now he yo-yos between cleaning his act up and sitting in a piss soaked chair covered in vomit, faeces and surrounded by vodka bottles. He even had to be hospitalised after drinking isopropyl alcohol. Yet despite his best efforts and his wish to walk in front of a bus (which he says he won’t do because of the impact on the driver), he still lives. And I love (the sober) him but I don’t know that I want him to live because of what he’s putting us all through. I wish we were in a new time when this was over. For good.
Spiralled in with this (though starting later than the alcoholism), my mother has schizo-affective disorder and was frequently psychotic from when I was 8 upwards. Ar the time my father worked away (drinking all the money) and I had to do my best to feed myself with frozen spinach and tell mum my teeth had fallen out to buy baby food for my brothers. Others only noticed our state when I’d collapsed with long-term diarrhoea, despite being hounded by the teacher for not paying my lunch money.
Over the years we were in arrears for school fees, I was threatened with being made to leave, then my uni fees, I was also threatened with being kicked out from there, at that point I did what I’ve always done and took over the responsibility for them.
Somehow I thought I’d come out of this quite sane, but the truth is that the slightest bit of bad news, or even an unexpected call gives me an adrenaline hit like I’ve been punched in the stomach. I’ve been fighting to keep my head above water for years, I don’t think I’ve got anxiety or depression but I’m getting such a physical response I don’t know how I can cope with it any more.
Sorry for the essay!