I was going to write a lighter blog about some boys being too femi or something to that extent (maybe later), but there is something that I've been meaning to talk about for a long time now and that is alcoholism. Someone very close to me has struggled with alcoholism for most of his life. The sad part is most alcoholics don't even seem to realize that they have a problem that is hurting everyone around them, or at least they deny it, and that's the case in his life.
When I was younger, I idolized him, cried my eyes out when he would leave, and made excuses for his actions. There has never been a doubt that he loves me; and I have plenty of good memories of him, like fishing trips, archery, legit crying together when I was hurt, and him pretending to cry when I got my locks chopped off. But after I got a little older and more observant of what was really going on, my opinion of him totally changed. For far too long, I wanted nothing to do with him. There were even times when I said I hated him. He never hurt me physically, but verbally was a different story. I felt abandoned, confused, and angry - and in many ways, I had a right to feel this way.
Junior High wasn't a great time for me, and not just because of the bad hair cuts and awkward stages, but because then it seemed like everything just escalated. I used his alcoholism and absence as an excuse for how I acted and for so much other crap in my life, and that's something I really regret. I became very depressed, to the point of going to counseling, Alateen support groups, and even taking anti-depressants for a while. None of those lasted long, probably because of my own stubbornness to keep to myself. I thought I was hiding how all of it was affecting me, but it seemed like everyone knew anyway. (1st rule to living in a small town: EVERYONE finds out about your business whether you want them to or not.) Most of the hugs, sympathetic looks, and "I'm here for you"'s drove me crazy. But support came from unusual places, and I began to appreciate people more. I learned that it was okay to let go of the "tough girl" act and cry every once in a while, that some people do sincerely care about how you're doing, and how important it is to not forget how to smile.
I hate when people label alcoholism as a disease. You don't choose to get the flu, it just happens. Alcoholism is a choice. A choice to decide that you're going to use substances to aid your hurt or make you feel better about yourself. You don't become an alcoholic because your parents were, you always have a choice to be whoever or whatever YOU want to be. And then after some time, you become addicted and that choice is no longer yours.
I wish that I figured out sooner that his alcoholism was HIS battle, not mine, and although I couldn't just ignore it, I didn't need it to take control of my life as it did to his. It took me even longer to see that he wasn't totally to blame for the problems in our family, but rather that there were many factors contributing. I have forgiven him and myself and have gotten past a lot of those negative thoughts, and I'm glad I did. Because now, even though I'm sure he still has a problem, the geographical distance between us has - ironically - made us closer.
No comments:
Post a Comment