“the drunkards disease”
6/18/21 3:04pm
They say to just start writing, even if you don’t want to. Same as most things, practicing is the only way to get better. So with that being said I want to talk about my father, the only way I know how to…
on a piece of paper.
Which technically is a extension of my hand, so I guess I’m just venting to myself right now. Typical.
My father has been in the hospital for days now, not getting any better. His pancreas is dying causing his liver enzymes to be fucked up. This as a result will progressively lead the liver to collapse as a whole.
“the drunkards disease”
I remember growing up always complaining of my parents alcoholism, yet words couldn’t even explain the severity so the only people who truly understood were my siblings. I read online that although it is possible in extreme cases, most heavy alcoholics don’t develop these issues until 65-70 years old. My dad is 51 and most likely won’t see the day he turns 52.
Although I am most definitely a pessimist, even a optimist can’t ignore the facts. Want to know what “haunts” me the most and leaves me tossing and turning in the earliest hours of the morning? The fact that he’s not telling me anything. Don’t get me wrong, our relationship is in ruins. Even then, don’t you think that if he got his results back he should be updating me? Not to mention the fact that I asked about the results three times that day… all to be ignored. The whole situation is just all types of fucked up.
I asked my youngest brother what hospital he was being cared for at, he responded. He confirmed that my father is at the hospital about 6 minutes from my house. I’ve debated for two damn days now just showing up to his room but after I do that then what?! What the fuck do I say to the man that left me this broken individual, who drags his feet along the path of his ever so lonely journey? The same man who has abandoned his first born son to the violent streets of the inner city all while he blissfully sleeps in his materialistic, not worth it, way to fucking large upper class home.The same exact man who looked in his sons pained eyes and said he would never give up on me… and then he did. Now, here I am crying about a man who should have never been a father in the first place!!
Stupid.
I will admit that I do understand why that man is the way he is. He never had a chance at mental stability.
Given away at birth raised by his adopted parents only to find his own (adopted) father dead in the kitchen by his own gun. You tell me do you think he had a chance? Well, let me revise that… he did have a split in the road decision and he made the wrong one. He had a chance until his hand met that bottle.
Picked it up as a maladaptive coping skill to numb his pain that rages deep down inside him. Then wonders why I have struggled with substance abuse so bad the majority of my pitiful life on this planet.
BECAUSE THAT’S HOW I WAS SHOWN TO DEAL WITH PAIN SINCE I WAS A CHILD!!!!
Fuck dude, I don’t know how many times I’ve attempted to explain my BPD and it’s roots grown from the seed I call “trauma”. Only to grow into a very mentally unstable and insecure weed plant. Even then they would deny deny deny taking part in my downfall, forever denial. Now everyone is running around like chickens with their heads chopped asking “what could we have done!?!????”
a fuck ton…
But you didn’t. So I’m over it and bridges have burned. I may bury my feelings the same way but at least I never gave up. fucking coward. Where were you when I was having 35+ panic attacks a day and alone feeling insecure like no one could ever love me?? You weren’t fucking there.
What’s done is done as what’s said is said.
But I promise it will be a cold day in hell when I abandon my own son for struggling. Only to shun him away as he BEGS to make amends and solidify our relationship once more. Still, I’m crying, sobbing, hyperventilating, and preparing myself to forever mourn the man I once looked up to with my innocent eyes.
Why should I care about a failure of a father, husband? A father who has absolutely 0 magnetic attraction to his own son… only to that stupid fucking bottle?
Why!?
Because I love you and I miss you more then there are words in the English language.
i.r.
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