August 12, 2012

Alcoholism in family members: the really, really, really long goodbye.

'I'm an alcoholic.'  Her wobbly face seemed puffy but its hard to tell because the hell in her eyes makes it difficult to look closely.  'What do you want me to do?'  Her centre of non focus shifted from my direction to the vague direction of Mike the kids' father and then our dad.  Mike asked her if she had any money and if she did to give to dad or her adult son up in Aberdoom.  He's twenty, just left another broken family with two wee ones, he's usually fine but gets aggressive when drunk or angry sometimes.  He is also best friends the last person who assaulted me (just a slap and a push) and boasted about sexually abusing my son.   I wonder how far the aggression from my sister's son towards her drinking is a factor sometimes.  I remember a shared abuser, you see, between me and the nephew.  He was our downstairs neighbour when we first moved to town before my sister got pregnant.  He visited when we moved up the road, sometimes often then it tapered out.  He taught my nephew to call me a whore when he was three and groomed him into having sex with him and raping women.  In particular me and his mum.  I don't know about anyone else.  I had problems figuring out how he fitted into all the hierarchies and groups of ritual and organised crime.  I think I still do.  When things get too close to home I stop seeing it, sometimes literally.

Mike told her she had to start being honest she nods makes noises in agreement.  Before my dad took her back up the road I heard her crying in the kitchen.  When they've left Mike shows me an empty bottle of lucozade that stinks of brandy.  That sickening sweet smell that hangs to her, you can smell it in the room or in the car after she has left.  Later on I speak to my mum she has come of the phone to my sister, they had long chat by the sounds of it.  My sister had told her she hadn't touched a drop that day.  It broke my mum, briefly.  There is a quarter bottle of Marks and Spencer's vodka that was found in her bag that she left here.  I couldn't help thinking that leaving her bag with all her money and drink was her unconscious, something in her try to help herself.  It's in my cupboard and I'm glad about this..



  1. Alcoholism and child sexual abuse can both be so damaging to a family. I was raised with my dad being both an alcoholic and an incest perpetrator. I understand the dynamics of both. It is impossible for me to separate the two in my mind even though my dad wasn't usually drunk when he raped me as a child.

  2. Mines was usually drunk, so there was the drunk abusive, raping father and the well meaning, well educated, working class man. I found it so much harder to forget when he was sober. Although I think I understand something about the dynamics of alchoholism and abuse I still cant understand how someone can treat their own bodies, their own children, or any soul like that. Over and over.

  3. My "watershed moment" was when I realised he'd planned it. I made excuses. Something came over him. It was something or someone else that he became during the night. One day, there was a towel on the armchair in my room. I registered it, left it there, briefly wondered why it was there. In the night, I realised who had put it there and why. It was light blue. Worn out from years of washing. Hardly any fibers left.