Alcoholism – a dependence syndrome touched my life from birth until recent times.
My father was a full-blown alcoholic (a man I loved in spite of his addiction). His
days started with his house painting job and ended when the corner bar closed.
For certain this had a multitude of negative effects on my life, from living
arrangements to bullied by classmates for wearing another girl’s hand-me down clothes.
The supposed friend boasted daily about her clothing now being worn by one far
less fortunate, me.
Yes, it’s quite interesting what the mind remembers from years ago.
In my teen years at parties I’d watched my Cape Verdean boyfriend consume booze
until he actually became physically sick. I couldn’t figure out the connection as why
a fairly smart handsome young man would participate in such an activity.
I was one of the few ‘bystanders’ at parties – no way – no thanks – upchucking was
definitely not for me.
Years later I married a man whose family owned two bars. On Friday nights he’d
bartender at one for extra income. He knew better than drink all the freebies
the patrons purchased for him; he was really good at pretend and placed the cash
in a jar.
Time marched on and urban development took the bars and a new adventure
on the scene, a kitchen and lounge. For a few years weekends I waitressed the
kitchen side along with my oldest daughter. I was the nominee due to age factor
venturing over to the lounge whenever a customer requested an alcoholic
beverage.
Did I ever consume alcohol? Yes, three glasses of mixed sweet beverages
to keep hydrated throughout so many Saturday nights, a sip here ‘n there
and right back out on the dance floor.
My marital home contained a good-sized liquor cabinet; however I’m
thankful I never had the desire to indulge in other than the occasional
glass of wine served with dinner and iced cold beer (disliked taste) at
family barbecues.
Perhaps it was my outlook on life ‘don’t want my family to experience
my youth’ since a high percentage follow in their parent(s) footsteps.
This disease as it’s referred has touched many members of my former
family and sad to learn details of each one’s battle and how their life
crumbled as refusal help leaves little loved ones can do for them.
A little twist here – a man from my hometown I met on a dating site.
The first evening we dined out I noticed his glassy eyes only thought
little of them since it was winter and quite cold outdoors. With his
dinner he ordered a beer then another. I dated him on and off for
a period of three years (platonic dates since via his own words I
was a nice woman and he a player).
He suffered from OCD and issues with anxiety thus kept his dates
fairly local. Eventually he told me his story over a three-hour Chinese
meal. He drank due to the loss of his mother at a young age. I
encouraged him to seek help; however my attempts were in vain
One day I plain tired of his games, we parted ways and no
longer communicate via phone nor e-mail messages.
Done!
There’s a valid reason for my writing this post today. A few
months ago I interacted with someone from the creator app my
family has been working for near four years.
The man’s lip synching evoked emotions within me, a gal who’d
pretty much managed to numb out her feelings on life in general.
We became virtual friends and he shared parts of his life, his
treatment and the mechanisms of day-to-day life and the
12-step journey.
I researched a bit and tried my best to let him know how
valuable life is and share with him how at times we all suffer
from degrees of depression.
Then without warning he chose to shut me out – OUCH. My
beautiful inspirational quotes were delivered, perhaps he did
read them only the messenger app’s gray check with a white
tick alerted me to the fact I was being ignored.
This was the end of another journey for me and like before
in the end it was I who’d experience anguish at the loss of a friend.
I’ve vowed never to repeat this pattern again unless the person
with the problem is an actual ‘immediate’ family member.
I’d been warned, I didn’t listen and even at this late stage in
life the wrath of rejection following good deeds is quite hurtful.
jaquintinwriter 
You must be logged in to post a comment.