Confessions Of The Daughter Of An Alcoholic

" The poison you seek is no longer simply viable. It is radiating, it is beyond. It has seeped into every crack and crevice, munching away at the confines.

Each drop is a choice, an impulse in the wrong direction. Your decision rings the bells for unjustifiable sadness. A pit of depression to loom high above. But what can ever be done?

For who are we to tell you no? To keep you from the pleasure of your bottle? The very thing that you sought to fill the void, the very thing that kept you confident when you were afraid to provide.

You dipped your talons and took a lick, returning only in the dark at first. With each swig came a pull, a tide to suck you under.

We watched with somber hearts as the sand slowly dissipated. Unbeknownst to me, you were the one holding the shovel. With all the irony and ease, you lifted me gracefully when I went under.

Although different, my addictive struggle all the same. You saw in me what we have always identified in you.

Meandering the school grounds, a younger me awaits a version that no longer exists. Hours muddle together, merging, bleeding.

The fight is persistent, always a premise of hope. A sliver of silver lining, blocked by the bottle once more. Your liquid may be pure in color, clarified in spirit. But how it taints you so.

Secrecy to a child, foolishness to the adult. Two siblings watched with despair as the days grew old. You can't turn back the clock so they say. You can't undo what has been done. The glory of pain roots deep. The thorns have already stung.

Remnants of the past, all that can be done is to move forth. Beyond.

Beyond the humanness that leaves you, the cold that ensues, the anger which unravels, and being left with tales of abuse.

A car engine revving behind the mind of the possessed, a young mother clutching her baby tight. The impulse of interactions which cannot be undone, unable to be retracted upon the clarity of sobriety. The anguish of guilt tethered to him now, tainting his heart bit by bit.

None involved were ever innocent, for the stander by holds just as much in solidarity. Yet there was only ever one to blame. Where does the axe fall once the glass has been shattered? What is left once all is lost and gone?

All else have left him now, for my tolerance is far too high. Perhaps I am the one true fool, still lingering in hopes for the better. For I hath seen it with my own two eyes, the lure of the liquid of the undivine. "

Based loosely on a debate I had with myself at one point in regards to the responsibility as a child of an alcoholic parent. I gained my independence in life a little earlier than most would expect. And although there were no complaints from me on that regard, there came with it an air of responsibility at a fairly young age. I learned to own up to my mistakes, and to take on the troubles of others rather quickly. My father was largely one of those people.

It didn't fully click with me up until the incident in middle school (referenced above) that he had a major dependency on alcohol. Up until that point, I had felt the wrath of his drinking problems on numerous occasions, but didn't quite have the knowledge to fully put two and two together. It became easy for me to assume from that point forward that I had to look out for him, because that was just what you do, it was in my nature.

Years down the line, I found myself living with my father again. His alcoholism had become so routine, I could count how much he had to drink by the number of clinks to the garbage can out back before he entered our home. Even in my 2os, I still felt compelled to try and "save" him despite how entirely draining the situation was for me. I was constantly running rampant to ensure he wasn't driving my pup under the influence, dealing with the repercussions of his discourtesy to others, and all the meanwhile stopping to check on him on the days where he passes out for hours on end, breathing shallow and indistinct.

The remaining members of my family had all cut ties with him completely, and I felt as though I was the only one he had left. At the end of the day, I had to come to terms with the fact that after 3o years of this, the only person who could put a stop to it was indeed him. It was never my duty to save my own parent- and to anyone else in a similar situation, it isn't yours either.