I need a place to release thoughts...
I need a place to vent...
I need a place to have an opinion ... my own.
I or I should say we, (this affects my whole family) are in a process of starting over. In a process of realization that the way we lived, is no longer sustainable after the events of the last year.
This is a horrible process - trying to rebuild your life.
Three years ago a very important person in my life, my mother, died the horrible death of cancer. She was actually my stepmother, but I can never disrespect her with that title. She helped raise me, she taught me so much, and made me the person that I am today. And for that, I will never disrespect her with that "title". I do have a biological mother, we are close, but at a crucial time in my life, she let me down and I left to live with my dad. And that was when my mom came into the picture. I had a wonderful childhood after that, sure, I had some problems, the usual teenage problems and she helped me through them. She was wonderful.
She not only kept me and my sisters in line, she kept my dad in line. And I never knew it then, but I do now, just how hard of task that was for her.
My father's side of the family are alcoholics....
Out of 5 siblings, 3 boys and 2 girls, all but the girls are alcoholics. One of my aunts are great, no addictions to speak of she may have a glass of wine every now and then with dinner, but no alcohol problem. The other one is an overbearing presicription drug addict. She likes anything that keeps her numb - her husband is also a severe alcoholic. My father was always the normal one for the longest time. He may have had a few beers on the weekend, but that was it. Now it is a handle of whiskey every other day.
This didn't just start.
This was slow process that snuck up on us.
My grandmother passed away about 6 years ago, this was when it slowly started. During her last few days when hospice was there, while all of us where by her bedside, my father and his siblings with the exception of the one "good" aunt, were all hiding in the laundry room having some "drinks" to help cope. THIS whas when it started. Then it was like De-Ja-Vu. My grandfather passed away about a year and half later. Same song and game, hospice - laundry room.
About a month after my grandfather passed on my mom got diagnosed with stage 3-C ovarian cancer. For those not completely familiar with the stages, they are numbered 1-4 and lettered A-C. 4 is terminal and usually inoperable. 3-C is the last stage of operable before the terminal stage.
EVERYTHING WENT TO HELL IN A HANDBASKET AT THIS POINT.
She had surgery, my dad had 44 ounce convenience store cup full of whiskey with about 2 maybe 4 ounces of ginger ale to cut it (which he refilled twice during the 4 hour surgery). During chemotherapy - same song and dance. It was getting worse every day. She lasted 9 short months and then cancer took over. They could not get rid of all of it with surgery, they had hoped chemo would finish the job, she was platinum resistant. For those who don't understand, chemotherapy is platinum, her cancer had a resistance to it. Long story short - It had no effect what so ever. She passed in the same manner. My father was too drunk all the time to take care of her...
she could not bathe herself - he was too drunk to do it.
she could not use the bathroom herself - he was too drunk to help.
she could not cook for herself when she was hungry - he would pass out and burn everything.
Finally on the Saturday before her passing he tried to move her from the recliner into bed, she had soo much ascites fluid that should could not walk he had to move her from place to place. During this transfer of about 4 feet he fell with her and she flew into a night stand type table, I think she may have broken her leg. I found out the next day when I went to see her and give her the daily shot for blood clots that she had fell. It was that night that she called me at 11 to tell me she was in so much pain she could not stand it. I went over and had to call an ambulance, she hurt to bad to get in my car. We sat at the ER for 8 hours and was never seen. She begged to be taken home and we obliged. I called hospice the very next day, she died 3 days later.
You see at this time I was a hairstylist with a full clientele booked 8-12 weeks in advance, the middle sister was an established paramedic, and the baby sister had been helping with the business as best as she could while finishing her AS degree in engineering. My parents had a family business they started it 20 years ago. It was a very successful construction business. When she passed away, our father asked us all to come help.
WE DROPPED OUR LIVES FOR HIM.
We all came and helped, I did accounts receivable and contract administration. Middle sister "C" did estimating, and baby sister "N" did accounts payble and payroll. It took all 3 of us to keep his life, his business, his dream from tanking.
Over this course of the last 3 years of working for him we have had major struggles, like the time he hit some lady with his vehicle while he was totally drunk and then took off and hid his car. And this is only the beginning. We have Marchman Acted him, we have Baker Acted him. We helped him get into rehab several times. Nothing worked. He starting seeing some lady about 20 years older than him 1 month after my mom died. How is that right?
I have taken backlash from family for doing these things that they did not have the courage to do and I have paid the price for it. We had an intervention, they don't work, it just pissed him off more. After 3 years of doing everything for this man I walked away. It kills me every day.
I am currently trying to rebuild my life. I was fired for speaking my mind in an intervention set up while he was in rehab by his therapist. I was fired for telling him that his grandkids miss the old him. That I missed the old him. That we wanted him to love us enough to break free from alcohol. I was fired by my own father for making excuses for him when he was so drunk he was puking his guts up for days. For telling clients and other contractors that he was sick with the flu when he would not show up for meetings and I found him passed out on his own floor. I was fired for detoxing him at home 4 times when he was in beginning stage liver failure. I was fired for being there for him every other time but this last one.
I had made a promise in the intervention...
Should you choose not to stay sober, I will no longer be a part of your life. My children will no longer be a part of your life. My husband will no longer be a part of your life. And we haven't. I ignore his phone calls, won't wave when he drives by my house daily, which for some reason he does, and I have not acknowledged his birthday or fathers day.
I have or I should say we have walked away. Even my sisters and their families have walked away. They tell you that an alcoholic has to lose his family, to see the err of his ways. I don't think he cares. I really doubt he cares. He is still drinking. He will die alone in his house with no-one.
I can't help that or fix it.
It kills me every day.
I want nothing more than to be a part of his sober life. I would love to take over the business when he retires. I would love to spend holidays and birthdays with him. To be there when he finds someone who loves him for him and not his money. But with the track he is on, this will never happen.
Now I am trying to rebuild a career, emotionally stabilize my children, and try to maintain some sort of sanity which is hard as hell. Not to mention the financial strain. My earnings have been cut by 2/3rds my husbands hours have been cut and we still have same bills now that we did when we were making 5K a month. Now we make a little over 2K. We are truly starting over. I feel like I did when we were struggling when we both made minimum wage 13 years ago starting out. Things are tight. Things are difficult.
As of this morning though, I still have all my marbles... We will see if the same is true later on, it is summer break and I do have 2 boys!!!!!
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