Mom’s Drinking
When I look into your eyes
There’s just emptiness inside
Half-seas-over one more time
There’s no turning back
There’s nothing left for me
Are you falling on the floor again?
Wishing he were home again
You know I feel the same my friend
I think it’s time for this to end
I guess it’s me and Jack again
Tonight
(A New Reality, from Beloved, by Juliet A. Wright, copyright 2003, all rights reserved.)
My mother was an alcoholic. She drank heavily as I was growing up and spent the larger part of 40 years going in and out of recovery.
Her drinking started when my father got disbarred due to a conflict of interest scandal in his law practice. I was six going on seven at the time. Mom had to testify and stand by his side in a very public trial. She had been abusing barbiturates and that abuse escalated at that time also.
It’s not easy living with someone who has the disease of alcoholism. The way the disease works, the whole family has it, so everyone ends up feeding each other the same garbage over and over in different ways. No one gets better until someone gets into treatment. And getting someone into treatment is difficult, especially if they don’t want to go. And if they don’t want to go, don’t send them because it’s not going to work. This was the 70s and I didn’t know about Al-Anon and CoDA wasn’t around yet. And if you think you could ever get my dad to go to one of those groups, forget it.
My mother’s disease was severe. When Mom was drinking, she had to have alcohol in her system all the time or she started going through withdrawal. As a result, when she was using, there was booze hidden all over the house. You could find it in the cupboards, behind the canned goods, under the butcher’s block, in the orange juice, in the corner of every closet, in the flowerbed, under the bathroom sink, in the bathroom cabinets, in her purse in a flask, and in the car in the cubby.
She definitely used to drink and drive. Mom drove drunk all the time with us in the car, with a toddy in the cubby and never got caught. You could drive drunk forever in Vermont and not get caught in the 70s. Or maybe it was just my mother who never got caught. She had an angel on her shoulder. My sponsor told me most alcoholics do.
She dried out several times before finally committing to sobriety. The last time she dried out was in February of 2005. She remained in recovery until October 30, 2010, when she unfortunately relapsed. I was sad, but tried to detach.
For most of my life, I thought that Mom’s drinking was my fault. If I was perfect, she wouldn’t drink.
Here is a list of Juliet’s Codependency Patterns[1] that tend to raise their heads in relationship to my mothers drinking:
I am not conscious of my own moods, I am conscious of your moods.
If you’re happy, I’m happy.
Your moods and actions are my fault.
If you hurt, I hurt; I think I have to fix you.
It’s difficult for me to recognize my moods or articulate them.
I am inclined to diminish, change, or refute my moods.
If you like me, I like me.
If you think I’m good, I think I’m good.
I don’t know what I need, I focus on what you need.
Your customs and thoughts are always right. I’m always wrong.
I am obsessed with making you happy, with saving you.
My fear of abandonment and fear of rejection determine how I behave.
Please don’t get mad at me, I’ll do or be whatever you say.
Please don’t get mad at me, I’ll feel however you want me to feel.
I think I have to be perfect and so do you. Nothing less will do.
I am less than.
[1] Adapted from the Family of Origin packet materials provided by the Sequoia Recovery Center.
Here is a list of Juliet’s Feelings[1] that tend to raise their heads in relationship to my mothers drinking:
This is all my fault, I did something wrong.
They are right, I am wrong.
They are going to abandon me.
They are going to reject me.
I don’t deserve good things.
I am less than.
I am ashamed.
I’m bad and now everyone knows it. I’ll be alone forever.
Different from everyone
I am only worth what I accomplish.
I’m not good enough to be here.
Thank heavens I am in recovery and am learning to replace these old behaviors and feelings patterns with ones that serve me better.
[1] Ibid.
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