We all have a story – here is mine
We all have a story – here is mine
I am 52 years old – a seasoned partier.
Today is day 38. I feel strong and determined. I also feel numb and vulnerable. I am riding an emotional roller coaster and my eyes keep watering every time I think of my father. He is my Achilles’ heel. He too was an alcoholic.
So here’s the story of my dad as fast as I can tell it. He was successful, handsome, and a partier. As a child I was a typical daddy’s little girl. In my eyes, there was no one on the planet better than him. I have two sisters, and I was clearly his favorite. (Parents: this is NOT good.) When my mother found out about his affairs, she divorced him. I was in the 6th grade.
Over the next 35 years, I slowly learned to be callous. Not to the world…but to him. It was the only way I could cope. My sisters and I went to Al-Anon, and we tried an intervention. He did quit on several occasions, but always went back to it and his alcoholism progressed. We got frequent calls from the hospital and went running when they called. Eventually, we stopped running. I remember one specific call from the ER…I asked the nurse if he was going to die that night. She said no. I told her that we would not be visiting.
His final year and the year that followed were particularly hard. He was clearly sick. But an alcoholic is tricky. One time we got him to the doctor, and he escaped when the doctor left the room. He was being evicted. We would send cleaning companies over and he would not let them in. He didn’t believe they could take away his condo. A local policeman took a friendly interest in him and we spoke frequently. We were in touch with several agencies that help in situations like this: VA groups, neighbors assisting neighbors, DHR, DSS, church volunteers, etc. We had to do something. He ran out of money, had no insurance and our options were limited. He was not a grandpa you could bring home to live with you. I really struggle with this because as I write it we sound so heartless. I worked with the VA to get him a room at a beautiful new VA facility. It was an arduous process, but we FINALLY got him to agree to go. He died 10 days later – before the paperwork was completed.
After the funeral, we had to find who his creditors were, negotiate with them, clean/sell the condo, file years of back taxes, fight with attorneys, and otherwise do what was necessary. We entered the condo together. It was so nasty that we left to get masks and returned. We each puked, but you could not puke in the toilet. Too vile. There were bugs, old food containers, and lots, and lots, and lots of empty vodka bottles. He left us a note on top of the unopened mail. “Stinky lives here.” We got a dump truck and unloaded everything off the balcony. The mattress, the carpet, upholstered furniture, etc. We scrubbed and scrubbed, and cried and cried. We had the place bombed and painted. By the grace of God…honestly…BY THE GRACE OF GOD, a buyer approached us before we even put the place on the market. We received enough to satisfy his creditors.
So, I am his legacy. I have always been very much like him. I too have been battling alcoholism which helps me to understand and forgive him more every day. I need to forgive myself. I am conquering this beast before it steals my life. My life is good. I married my best friend and we have three “perfect” children. The oldest is studying for a medical degree, the second is studying bio-medical engineering and the youngest is a blond haired blue eyed honor student in high school. I am a CEO and a philanthropist. Lord, I hope that didn’t sound like boasting! I hope instead that it sounds like a happy ending…he would like that.
Today is day 38. I feel strong and determined. I also feel numb and vulnerable. I am riding an emotional roller coaster and my eyes keep watering every time I think of my father. He is my Achilles’ heel. He too was an alcoholic.
So here’s the story of my dad as fast as I can tell it. He was successful, handsome, and a partier. As a child I was a typical daddy’s little girl. In my eyes, there was no one on the planet better than him. I have two sisters, and I was clearly his favorite. (Parents: this is NOT good.) When my mother found out about his affairs, she divorced him. I was in the 6th grade.
Over the next 35 years, I slowly learned to be callous. Not to the world…but to him. It was the only way I could cope. My sisters and I went to Al-Anon, and we tried an intervention. He did quit on several occasions, but always went back to it and his alcoholism progressed. We got frequent calls from the hospital and went running when they called. Eventually, we stopped running. I remember one specific call from the ER…I asked the nurse if he was going to die that night. She said no. I told her that we would not be visiting.
His final year and the year that followed were particularly hard. He was clearly sick. But an alcoholic is tricky. One time we got him to the doctor, and he escaped when the doctor left the room. He was being evicted. We would send cleaning companies over and he would not let them in. He didn’t believe they could take away his condo. A local policeman took a friendly interest in him and we spoke frequently. We were in touch with several agencies that help in situations like this: VA groups, neighbors assisting neighbors, DHR, DSS, church volunteers, etc. We had to do something. He ran out of money, had no insurance and our options were limited. He was not a grandpa you could bring home to live with you. I really struggle with this because as I write it we sound so heartless. I worked with the VA to get him a room at a beautiful new VA facility. It was an arduous process, but we FINALLY got him to agree to go. He died 10 days later – before the paperwork was completed.
After the funeral, we had to find who his creditors were, negotiate with them, clean/sell the condo, file years of back taxes, fight with attorneys, and otherwise do what was necessary. We entered the condo together. It was so nasty that we left to get masks and returned. We each puked, but you could not puke in the toilet. Too vile. There were bugs, old food containers, and lots, and lots, and lots of empty vodka bottles. He left us a note on top of the unopened mail. “Stinky lives here.” We got a dump truck and unloaded everything off the balcony. The mattress, the carpet, upholstered furniture, etc. We scrubbed and scrubbed, and cried and cried. We had the place bombed and painted. By the grace of God…honestly…BY THE GRACE OF GOD, a buyer approached us before we even put the place on the market. We received enough to satisfy his creditors.
So, I am his legacy. I have always been very much like him. I too have been battling alcoholism which helps me to understand and forgive him more every day. I need to forgive myself. I am conquering this beast before it steals my life. My life is good. I married my best friend and we have three “perfect” children. The oldest is studying for a medical degree, the second is studying bio-medical engineering and the youngest is a blond haired blue eyed honor student in high school. I am a CEO and a philanthropist. Lord, I hope that didn’t sound like boasting! I hope instead that it sounds like a happy ending…he would like that.
Benice,
I hardly know what to say, Avery heartfelt story. God I hate the damage that alcohol can do. Why do we let it? I am 58 sober for 15 months with the support of the AA program and SR.
Keep coming here, reading and posting
love
CaiHong
I hardly know what to say, Avery heartfelt story. God I hate the damage that alcohol can do. Why do we let it? I am 58 sober for 15 months with the support of the AA program and SR.
Keep coming here, reading and posting
love
CaiHong
Benice,
I am moved to think about my relationship with my own alcoholic father and the impact
its had on my life because you tell this story.
But this is about you and him and the ripples you both have sent out (and continue to send) into the world. You don't sound like you are bragging at all. You sound like a survivor who is determined and ready to go beyond survival and "success" to the next level. More ripples...
May you continue to grow in understanding and peace.
I am moved to think about my relationship with my own alcoholic father and the impact
its had on my life because you tell this story.
But this is about you and him and the ripples you both have sent out (and continue to send) into the world. You don't sound like you are bragging at all. You sound like a survivor who is determined and ready to go beyond survival and "success" to the next level. More ripples...
May you continue to grow in understanding and peace.
Stay strong it gets much better as you go. The only way I have found in life not to be vulnerable is to hide in a bottle. Being vulnerable gets easier. And then becomes being open. There is a difference.
It doesn't sound like you were bragging it sounds like you have used the skills you have in your life to make a better way for your children. It also sounds like you have given them an amazing start to life and now they will not end up with a relationship like you had with your father. CongrTs on that!!
As for me I grew up in a very poor family and I grew not having an stability in my life. For me I found love in the only thing I could control my education. When I graduated college I was mKing more money then either of my parents ever had. By the time I was 30 I was mKing 6 figures. But, the price for me was all the relationships I had ever known... The greatest was the bottle... It was the only thing I could really relay on in life. So here I am at 37 with 10 months clean... Learning about how drinking and money have always meant success to me. Sad but true.
I am happy for your story. I am morer happy that you were able to change your rerlationshio with your kids.
Saliena
As for me I grew up in a very poor family and I grew not having an stability in my life. For me I found love in the only thing I could control my education. When I graduated college I was mKing more money then either of my parents ever had. By the time I was 30 I was mKing 6 figures. But, the price for me was all the relationships I had ever known... The greatest was the bottle... It was the only thing I could really relay on in life. So here I am at 37 with 10 months clean... Learning about how drinking and money have always meant success to me. Sad but true.
I am happy for your story. I am morer happy that you were able to change your rerlationshio with your kids.
Saliena
Benice, thank you for sharing your story. I'm so sorry you had to go through that with your dad, and having such a devastating end to the story. I'm glad you are changing your story for your own family-it sounds like you have done a wonderful job with your children. Congrats on 38 days. Sobriety will bring out all the emotions, but that will be healing I think-take care of yourself, and take time to grieve for your dad. You were not heartless, you did everything you could to help him. Reading your story may help someone in his position to turn things around.
Member
Join Date: Sep 2012
Location: Getting there
Posts: 216
That is a really tough experience. I am on day 45. Over the past month I have spent a lot of time on my own and a lot of time to think and your experience reflects my sentiments or feelings towards alcohol - being an achoholic gives alcohol the opportunity to take your job, your family, your marriage, your self esteem, at the other end and if you are lucky it will spit you out with something that can almost be considered as a pitiful life. Your experience as noted and people who read it should give a lot a people on this board the strength to continue not to drink alcohol.
I hope you have forgiven him Benice. Remember him in your early years. That was your father. The man who died, was a victim of the monster alcohol. Hopefully this website, AA meetings, and the like will help stop the monster from killing many, many more.
Glad you're here.
Glad you're here.
Thank you each for posting a reply. I REALLY appreciate your words of support. And congratulations to each of you for your sober time…weather it is days, months or years!
I admit that after bearing my sole, I was a bit obsessed with checking this post. Did anyone read it? Did I make any sense? Did it matter? Will putting it in writing help someone in addition to me? Well, you kind folks replied and gave me that “all is right in the world” feeling. I never realized how important a reply post can be.
Thank you.
I admit that after bearing my sole, I was a bit obsessed with checking this post. Did anyone read it? Did I make any sense? Did it matter? Will putting it in writing help someone in addition to me? Well, you kind folks replied and gave me that “all is right in the world” feeling. I never realized how important a reply post can be.
Thank you.
Yes Benice, your post is very much appreciated by me, there will be others.
I know this is difficult for a type A doer but be patient. Remember: "If I build it, they will come".
I know this is difficult for a type A doer but be patient. Remember: "If I build it, they will come".
Member
Join Date: Oct 2012
Posts: 603
Thanks for your story, Benice. I'm glad you didn't repeat the same mistake as your father.
My story is different. I'm one of five kids. My father was distant - a man of his generation (he's 87 now). He never talked about his feelings and continues not to, but he was never abusive.
My parents have never touched a drop of alcohol in their lives. The only display of affection that I ever witnessed between them was a brief kiss on the cheek, yet they must have been romantic at least 5 times in their lives because there were 5 of us kids.
Growing up I never saw any of my siblings use any substances - not even cigarettes. That didn't stop my sister and me from becoming alcoholics.
As the decades have progressed, I have forgiven my father for being incapable of having a conversation about feelings with me. I felt like a freak of nature with all this internal stuff going on that I felt "no one" understood, so I gave up trying to talk about it with males of my age, or a male of any age for that matter. Women I found much easier to talk to about feelings - probably because my Mom would listen to mine and share hers and continues to.
I reached a conclusion which I still haven't completely shaken that women aren't lying when they say they find it refreshing to share with a man who can actually be open with his feelings, but it's the macho guy with the motorcycle who gets the sex and romance.
Since being around other men in recovery and finding a good therapist, I see that that's a stereotype. Stereotypes do have some truth in them, but it's nice to hear what looks like a hardened biker with tattoos at a meeting and find that he has feelings not unlike mine.
In my first romantic relationship, I realized that I was filling the role that I wished that my father had with me. Of course, that meant no sex, and I was heartbroken. I'm trying to strike a balance of still being open with my feelings, but not have too high expectations. Alcohol and pot provided the succor I was looking for.
Thanks again for your story. Do you drink at all, or did your experience with your father persuade you to steer clear of it altogether?
My story is different. I'm one of five kids. My father was distant - a man of his generation (he's 87 now). He never talked about his feelings and continues not to, but he was never abusive.
My parents have never touched a drop of alcohol in their lives. The only display of affection that I ever witnessed between them was a brief kiss on the cheek, yet they must have been romantic at least 5 times in their lives because there were 5 of us kids.
Growing up I never saw any of my siblings use any substances - not even cigarettes. That didn't stop my sister and me from becoming alcoholics.
As the decades have progressed, I have forgiven my father for being incapable of having a conversation about feelings with me. I felt like a freak of nature with all this internal stuff going on that I felt "no one" understood, so I gave up trying to talk about it with males of my age, or a male of any age for that matter. Women I found much easier to talk to about feelings - probably because my Mom would listen to mine and share hers and continues to.
I reached a conclusion which I still haven't completely shaken that women aren't lying when they say they find it refreshing to share with a man who can actually be open with his feelings, but it's the macho guy with the motorcycle who gets the sex and romance.
Since being around other men in recovery and finding a good therapist, I see that that's a stereotype. Stereotypes do have some truth in them, but it's nice to hear what looks like a hardened biker with tattoos at a meeting and find that he has feelings not unlike mine.
In my first romantic relationship, I realized that I was filling the role that I wished that my father had with me. Of course, that meant no sex, and I was heartbroken. I'm trying to strike a balance of still being open with my feelings, but not have too high expectations. Alcohol and pot provided the succor I was looking for.
Thanks again for your story. Do you drink at all, or did your experience with your father persuade you to steer clear of it altogether?
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