February 11, 2017 1 Comment
Growing up, my father often recalled the stories of a childhood filled with homelessness, hunger, and alcohol abuse. This is one of the reasons he worked tirelessly to provide for our family and care for others. He would talk about times he and his siblings would scrounge for change in order to get enough food for the family each day. I believe this is the main reason he left California at 18 years old and never returned. He wanted to separate himself from the life he experienced in the skid row slums of Alameda, CA. He would explain the hardships the family suffered because his father would get a paycheck and drink it all away.
My father passed away in 2011, after my mother passed away in 2007. As their only child, their passing became my nightmare. I will not blame them for what has happened since then. I will reference those pivotal events as the beginning of a downward spiral which has lead me to become what I am today, an addict. That sentence is the hardest I have ever written. I do not write these words, nor do take this fact lightly. Now what?
What started as a casual activity, shared among friends, has transformed into a solitary daily event. Before you think this is a confession that has an overcoming outcome at the end, I must warn you it is not. I have not been delivered, beat the devil, or any other term you want to add. I am an alcoholic. How did I get here? I’m not sure I can point to one event that tipped the iceberg. I don’t have repressed memories of a haunted childhood that have come to light. I have never suffered mental, sexual, or physical abuse that has caused me to seek comfort in a bottle or in pills. I can not blame someone else for this, nor do I want too.
So I have admitted my faults in front of God and anyone else reading this, what now? I could go on and on about what I could do, should do, or will do. I could say this is the first step of recovery or the fight begins now, but that would be a lie. I like drinking. I like the feeling it gives me and the way I can retreat into my own world with my headphones on while I’m drinking. I hate the way it makes those close to me, feel the way they do about me when I’m drinking. I regret the things I say to my family, even though I can’t remember it. So, I move forward. What now? I don’t have the answer. Not even sure why I am writing this because now everyone knows that I know what is happening.
Once you face the truth there is no way you can sent the facts. Now what?