There is a truth that you can only have if you've known an alcoholic.
The truth is the effect of alcohol on your life.
It is different from the truth you have if you realise you are an alcoholic. It is different from the truth that you are a binge drinker. It is different from the that when you drink wine/gin/vodka/(insert beverage here) you cry and become melancholy.
It is the truth that even if its not a problem, it could become a problem, and you know what a problem looks like.
That problem is misery. It's forgetting conversations, it's repeating yourself, it's explaining again. It's not understanding. It's also finding things hilarious, amusing, loving the glow you sit in.
Alcohol is a lubricant. It helps loosen you up in social situations, at parties. It helps loosen you up and let go of frustration, exhaustion, tension created by work, family, life. It lubricates your escape from reality. Helps you slide out of yourself into an understanding of the universe free of common angst.
It helps you celebrate and cope. Cope with anger, upset, grief, disappointment, betrayal.
As the daughter of an alcoholic, I am hyper aware of my drinking. That doesn't mean I don't drink or that I don't enjoy drinking. But I am aware when I drank for 5 days straight, most of it at home, on my own. I know it's not right. I know it's not right when going one night without a drink is a struggle. I know that I've started something that might be difficult to stop. I know the longer this goes on the harder it'll be to resist. I know I'm damaging my body with drinking at all let alone so consistently. I know that I will be able to sleep without a drink, I know that I can find other ways to cure my boredom, but I know I haven't bothered to try. Throwing up booze is only mildly more unpleasant than throwing up most other things.
I sit on a train drinking a gin and tonic and every mouthful hurts. The pain itself in my abdomen is nauseating, adding to the nausea I was trying to drink away.
I am the Girl on the Train.
But I am strong and I can stop. I want to stop. I will stop. That's the truth of being a daughter of an alcoholic: at the first sign of rouble, alcohol is not the answer. I have to face up to the trouble, then I won't have to drink to solve it. The truth is knowing the answer can be found sober.
I'm just not ready.
Showing posts with label drinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drinking. Show all posts
Thursday, 6 October 2016
Friday, 10 October 2014
#WorldMentalHealthDay
Last night, shortly after I'd settled into my bed, I heard what at first I thought was my sister arguing with my dad. Question Time was on, and she was still downstairs cooking something for her dinner today, so I figured they were just having a heated debate about something. Then after a moment or two I realised I recognised those noises - they were the noises of utter desperate crying.
I literally leapt out of bed and ran downstairs, to find my sister crying into the shoulder of my dad as he hugged her.
I stood there until they parted and asked "What the hell happened?" I was so bemused - I'd been upstairs about 10 minutes and when I'd left them all was well.
And then my sister said, "Dad asked me why I was cooking."
Now, that doesn't sound like a reason to burst into tears. But my sister had started cooking a bit before, and told our dad she was cooking something to eat for her dinner tomorrow [Friday] night.
Dad: Oh right. Where are you going tomorrow night?
Claire: I'm going to a gig at Wembley. I'm seeing a comedian, Miranda Hart.
Dad: Ok.
So how, approximately 15 minutes later, had my dad forgotten this entire conversation and asked my sister again why she was cooking? He is not elderly and suffering with memory problems.
The simple fact is that he is an alcoholic and he was drunk.
My sister leaves early in the morning for work, before my dad, so she often doesn't see him until she gets home. And by the time she gets home he's already had a glass of wine or two. At weekends he gets up at 10am and starts drinking about 1pm, unless he's driving somewhere. Added to which my sister works alternate Saturday mornings. This means that on average, my sister sees my father sober for about 9 hours a week, give or take.
There are 168 hours in the week. So that (if my maths is right) means my sister sees my father sober for less than 6% of the week.
He repeatedly forgets conversations we've had, because we only really get to have conversations with him in the evenings, by which point he's almost near the end of the first bottle of wine, or starting on the second. He frequently falls asleep at his desk downstairs, or even at the dinner table. I've found him asleep downstairs at 1am. He has even fallen asleep whilst eating his dinner.
Our father is an alcoholic. Addiction is a mental health issue. And today is World Mental Health Day.
My family has had a range of mental health issues on the years, the most significant being depression. My sister has been recently treated for it, my mother has had it, her mother has had it, my uncle has had it, and my grandad currently has it. So literally everyone on the maternal side of the family. I was treated for "behavioural" problems that was probably depression when I was younger. This had made us - especially my sister - hyperaware of the strength of our mental health, and protecting it. And right now my sister's mental health is not being protected. She is not in any regular counselling and whilst she is not being treated for depression now, that is not to say she cannot be treated for it again. Living in a house with an alcoholic father who has pointedly said he doesn't care if his drinking kills him is not the easiest, most loving environment for my sister. It's not the one she needs as she delves into the working world, having got through her depression and graduated from one of the toughest universities in the world.
It's not that we don't love our dad, and we don't doubt that he loves us. He just needs alcohol more than he sees the need to grow old and see us through life as far as he possibly can.
And we said as much last night. He did his sad puppy dog face when he knows he's in trouble, and he went and sat down in his computer chair, hanging his head. It was hard to know what to say. So we just told him the truth: that it is hurtful and painful for us to accept that he doesn't care about us enough to care about living. "What if we have kids", Claire asked. "Will you be around to see your grandchildren? Don't you want to see how we turn out?"
Both my sister and I are worried about our drinking habits. Having seen what wine has done to both our parents (our mother's drinking habits have significantly improved since she got a new boyfriend, because having her two daughters intervene and cry about how much she drank was not enough to make her stop or even cut down, but a disapproving new boyfriend was), we are worried about becoming dependent on alcohol. On "needing" alcohol. It is an issue we will probably both be concerned about for the rest of our lives.
That is why treating mental health is so vitally important for everybody. It has been the "underdog" of the NHS - never treated the same as physical health. But my father's addiction to wine is going to have physical implications - he is overweight, and he is doing daily damage to his organs. Can you see how connected everything can be?
And there's the rub. Our mental health adversely affected by the mental health of our father. Aspects of our futures wrapped up in actions of an alcoholic.
For my father, his future lies at the bottom of his second bottle of wine. At the 4th, the 8th, the 13th.
7 days a week, my dad drinks about 2 bottles a night.
If a vampire were ever to attack, I'd be surprised if blood flowed from my father's veins. Instead the vampire would probably just get drunk.
Then they'd have something in common with my father.
Update 12/10/14: On Friday night (10th) I was leaving to go out. My dad had arrived home from work and when I said "I'm off to Sutton." he asked "OK, are you meeting Claire there?" I started to say "No Claire is in London" and halfway through I realised this question meant he didn't remember her telling him where she was going. And I had a bad feeling he didn't remember their argument either.
I was right. Saturday morning, when we all got up, Dad admitted that he couldn't remember Claire telling him where she was going...and he couldn't remember their argument. He looked sheepish (as he had done Thursday night), but at least this time he was sober when we told him the reasons why we had argued - his drinking, how it affects us, and how horrible it makes us feel.
He's on glass of wine number "no idea" (his words). I estimate 2nd or 3rd. It's 7pm.
I literally leapt out of bed and ran downstairs, to find my sister crying into the shoulder of my dad as he hugged her.
I stood there until they parted and asked "What the hell happened?" I was so bemused - I'd been upstairs about 10 minutes and when I'd left them all was well.
And then my sister said, "Dad asked me why I was cooking."
Now, that doesn't sound like a reason to burst into tears. But my sister had started cooking a bit before, and told our dad she was cooking something to eat for her dinner tomorrow [Friday] night.
Dad: Oh right. Where are you going tomorrow night?
Claire: I'm going to a gig at Wembley. I'm seeing a comedian, Miranda Hart.
Dad: Ok.
So how, approximately 15 minutes later, had my dad forgotten this entire conversation and asked my sister again why she was cooking? He is not elderly and suffering with memory problems.
The simple fact is that he is an alcoholic and he was drunk.
My sister leaves early in the morning for work, before my dad, so she often doesn't see him until she gets home. And by the time she gets home he's already had a glass of wine or two. At weekends he gets up at 10am and starts drinking about 1pm, unless he's driving somewhere. Added to which my sister works alternate Saturday mornings. This means that on average, my sister sees my father sober for about 9 hours a week, give or take.
There are 168 hours in the week. So that (if my maths is right) means my sister sees my father sober for less than 6% of the week.
He repeatedly forgets conversations we've had, because we only really get to have conversations with him in the evenings, by which point he's almost near the end of the first bottle of wine, or starting on the second. He frequently falls asleep at his desk downstairs, or even at the dinner table. I've found him asleep downstairs at 1am. He has even fallen asleep whilst eating his dinner.
Our father is an alcoholic. Addiction is a mental health issue. And today is World Mental Health Day.
My family has had a range of mental health issues on the years, the most significant being depression. My sister has been recently treated for it, my mother has had it, her mother has had it, my uncle has had it, and my grandad currently has it. So literally everyone on the maternal side of the family. I was treated for "behavioural" problems that was probably depression when I was younger. This had made us - especially my sister - hyperaware of the strength of our mental health, and protecting it. And right now my sister's mental health is not being protected. She is not in any regular counselling and whilst she is not being treated for depression now, that is not to say she cannot be treated for it again. Living in a house with an alcoholic father who has pointedly said he doesn't care if his drinking kills him is not the easiest, most loving environment for my sister. It's not the one she needs as she delves into the working world, having got through her depression and graduated from one of the toughest universities in the world.
It's not that we don't love our dad, and we don't doubt that he loves us. He just needs alcohol more than he sees the need to grow old and see us through life as far as he possibly can.
And we said as much last night. He did his sad puppy dog face when he knows he's in trouble, and he went and sat down in his computer chair, hanging his head. It was hard to know what to say. So we just told him the truth: that it is hurtful and painful for us to accept that he doesn't care about us enough to care about living. "What if we have kids", Claire asked. "Will you be around to see your grandchildren? Don't you want to see how we turn out?"
Both my sister and I are worried about our drinking habits. Having seen what wine has done to both our parents (our mother's drinking habits have significantly improved since she got a new boyfriend, because having her two daughters intervene and cry about how much she drank was not enough to make her stop or even cut down, but a disapproving new boyfriend was), we are worried about becoming dependent on alcohol. On "needing" alcohol. It is an issue we will probably both be concerned about for the rest of our lives.
That is why treating mental health is so vitally important for everybody. It has been the "underdog" of the NHS - never treated the same as physical health. But my father's addiction to wine is going to have physical implications - he is overweight, and he is doing daily damage to his organs. Can you see how connected everything can be?
And there's the rub. Our mental health adversely affected by the mental health of our father. Aspects of our futures wrapped up in actions of an alcoholic.
For my father, his future lies at the bottom of his second bottle of wine. At the 4th, the 8th, the 13th.
7 days a week, my dad drinks about 2 bottles a night.
If a vampire were ever to attack, I'd be surprised if blood flowed from my father's veins. Instead the vampire would probably just get drunk.
Then they'd have something in common with my father.
Update 12/10/14: On Friday night (10th) I was leaving to go out. My dad had arrived home from work and when I said "I'm off to Sutton." he asked "OK, are you meeting Claire there?" I started to say "No Claire is in London" and halfway through I realised this question meant he didn't remember her telling him where she was going. And I had a bad feeling he didn't remember their argument either.
I was right. Saturday morning, when we all got up, Dad admitted that he couldn't remember Claire telling him where she was going...and he couldn't remember their argument. He looked sheepish (as he had done Thursday night), but at least this time he was sober when we told him the reasons why we had argued - his drinking, how it affects us, and how horrible it makes us feel.
He's on glass of wine number "no idea" (his words). I estimate 2nd or 3rd. It's 7pm.
Thursday, 13 September 2012
On Divorce and Drinking
On BBC Breakfast this morning was an item about "alternative parenting". Today's society is made up of families that are very different from the "nuclear" family of mum, dad and kids that we were all taught about. This is not necessarily to do with "broken Britain", but in the rise of acceptance of unconventional families such gay families adopting or using surrogates. BBC Breakfast used the example of a gay actor and his single, straight, female friend having kids by IVF.
Families are often complex units, regardless of whether or not it consist of two straight people of opposite genders. Families can be fantastic and amazing, and sometimes terrible and destructive.
I am very lucky to have the family that I have. I knew all my grandparents growing up, and even some great-grandparents, as well as great-aunts and -uncles. For ease of distinguishing between them, they would be named after things that we were familiar with when visiting them. Great-Nanny Lift used to live in a block of flats - and we'd have to take the lift to see her. Great-Nanny Collar wore a foam collar for as long as I can remember.
Granny and Grandad Ponds had a pond in the garden (which I fell into one time when they were looking after me - I had to return home in Granny's bloomers....) And Nana and Grandad Cats, well, they had cats.
I am lucky that I have never really fallen out with any of my family. I had a dislike for one of my relatives because he took me hostage in a wheelbarrow and went whizzng round his garden with me unable to get out. I wasn't impressed, and disliked him for many years. I was even rude to him on the day of his mother's funeral. But I was young, and I hadn't actually realised she was his mother too, she was just my Nan's mum, my great-nan. When you are young, it can be hard to work out who belongs to what side of the family, and why they are your aunt or uncle. I don't really have a massive family, but it's big enough that I still don't know who cousin Wendy really is. I think I went to her wedding though.
With the divorce, one of the things I've been trying to get my head round is that my family will no long be "a family". I'll no longer belong to a nuclear unit where the mum and dad love each other and love their kids and we have a nice house together with a garden and maybe a pet.
I'm reminded of driving to and from Derby and hearing several times a radio advertisement for a relationship counselling organisation. "If your relationship is breaking down, talk to a professional about what to do next." or something like that. I'd never heard one of these adverts before, and I wondered whether it was just because Derby had a higher rate of relationship breakdown (I can't find anything indicating that this is true), or it was just a sign of the changing times and "broken Britain". Or maybe just because the company had some money for advertising.
But even when we live in different houses I will still have a family, for which I should be very grateful. We will still be us, just in different locations.
My sister said to me on holiday that if we weren't sisters, we wouldn't be friends, because we are so different. This was evident when I started singing Taylor Swift's new song and my sister said how stupid and bad a song it was. But we are sisters. We are family. And I love my family.
On Monday night I watched a Panorama about the drinking epidemic facing the over-65s. Their varying stories were sad and troubling.
My parents drink. My mum has recently quit drinking, and whilst I feel, well, slighty displeased about her reasons, I am still glad for her sake that she has quit.
My dad on the other hand, has not quit. He is 58 this December, so well on his way to retirement and that over-65 age group. I don't think my dad will ever quit drinking. His lips and gums are constantly stained purple, his teeth are yellow and black. I worry all the time about his health. When I asked him if he ever worried, he said "sometimes". Sometimes I think about something happening that will wake him up to the damage he's done and doing to himself.
What are his reasons for drinking? He started drinking wine because he was told his high cholesterol meant he could no longer drink beer. And red wine is meant to be good for you. Maybe a glass every now and again is good for your heart, but my dad regularly drinks a bottle or two a day.
I hope that when he retires he doesn't start drinking more. I think that he drinks because work stresses him out and he wants to relax when he gets home and at the weekends. So in theory he'll drink less when if he has less stress. But then, when he retires, he has no hobbies except Sudoku and Freecell. Does that mean that he'll drink more as boredom sets in?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)