Surviving an Alcoholic

We all have visions of what a picture-perfect family looks like, I suppose happy parents with stable jobs, siblings that make other kids envy you, a pet or a few maybe. But for who does this usually work out in favor for? The lucky ones I suppose.

For as long as I could remember, my parents were divorced and both were heavy drinkers. My mother was in and out of jail and my father always had the law on his side, why? Because he was a cop.

I was the youngest out of my brother and I but from a young age, I knew I was going to have to be both his mother and father figure because my parents weren't cutting it. To start out, my parents couldn't stay away from each other when they got drunk, it was like they were two magnets pulled together during their drunkest hours.

It never ended well, my mom usually in handcuffs, my brother and I in tears, and my father all too proud. We craved stability and nurture but instead, we were warmed by the yelling of my dad and a firm wooden spoon on my ass.

As my brother and I grew into our teenage years, our father retired from the force and slowed his drinking, he became kinder and less violent compared to my mom. My mom had been in and out of relationships, some with men and some with women, the constant new arrival of a stepmom or dad never made us at ease.

Her increased drinking habits due to breakups and depression caused her to become alcohol dependent, meaning she had to get shitfaced every couple of days to survive. My mother was the worst of the two with the violence, which is strange because usually, men are more likely to be the violent ones, but in my case it was dear old mother.

At 50 years old she would binge drink until 2 sometimes 3 AM and fight with anyone who walked into her line of destruction. Sometimes it was just her words but as time went on she started to throw things, punch, hair pull, and at one point she pulled out a knife and threatened to kill my sibling. At that point, I decided to go on my own.

At 18 years old, I moved out of my mom's house, still in high school, broke, and scared but it was still better than the uncertainty if her or I would wake up in the morning. After moving out, it was as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a sudden ghost had passed to the other side and I was free.

For me, I hold a lot of sympathy for alcoholics but I don't hold sympathy for abusers and my parents were new different. Leaving for me was the hardest part of the journey because this was all I had known; alcohol, strangers, and abuse. What was going to happen to me once I left? I moved in with my boyfriend and I still attend high school, I've come to find peace with my past yet I promised never to look back.

So to leave you all with a piece of advice, it would be to leave before you can't, and if you are too scared and you're worried about whats going to happen to you once you leave, don't. It only gets better when you cut out the toxic people (including family members) from your life. You'll find yourself smiling more, at ease, and eventually, you'll realize that the grass is greener on the other side.