CEPT, TOAST, and UNABEND in progress...sort of
Meredith Lynne
the bar and drops down into a chair. She waves feebly at Mike, who
brings her a cup of strong black tea with cream.
When it's gone, she looks up and around for familiar faces.
"First -- my deep apologies to everybody I've been ignoring. If you've
sent me email, I haven't been checking it. If you've called me, I've
turned off my cell phone. If you've dropped by, I haven't been
answering my door. I'll pick up on those things this weekend,
god-willing.
"This has been, without a doubt, one of the worst holidays in the
history of mankind. I'm not talking just about me, here. If there were
a list of the most horrific holidays ever experienced by anyone on the
planet, this one I've just barely survived would be in the top ten.
There were times I thought about leaving my parents' house and never
coming back. There were times I watched my parents laughing together
and wanted to cry. I was just afraid, if I started, I wouldn't stop.
"God, I've been such a whiner since I came back here. I'm really not
doing too well at living up to my name.
"My mom's an alcoholic. Seven months sober just a few weeks ago. Mind
you, she's been an alcoholic since before I was born, and I'm thirty.
I'm supposed to be excited and happy and proud of her, and I am
*trying*. But honestly? I'm not sure I believe alcoholics stop
drinking. I've read about it, I've heard about it, but God knows I've
never witnessed it.
"Both of my brothers are alcoholics. They're older - 40 and 43.
They've been alcoholics for as long as I can remember. I don't remember
much of anything that happened before I was twelve or so, anyway. Since
then, they've never held a job for more than a few months. They've
never tried to stay clean and sober. They've each had their driver's
licenses taken away from them more than once. I know the DUI laws from
every state I've ever lived in, thanks to them. One of them has been in
jail for a one-year term, the other has been in and out and in again for
multiple overnight county-sponsored "dry-outs". They're liars, they're
thieves, they're dangerous... and selfish, and irresponsible, and
occasionally vicious. They've been in and out of rehab, but they claim
they don't want to get better. They like their lives. They've been
sponging off my parents for the past twenty years.
"They were home for Thanksgiving."
Merry shakes her head, and laughs. "When I say home, I mean, *home*.
They'd been living there for months. Sometimes they move out, or get
thrown out, for a few days, a week, a month. The last time I was home
for a visit, I had to go pick the younger one up from a beach he'd been
living on in Biloxi. He was too thin to be alive, he stank to heaven,
he was drunk off his ass, and he asked me on the way home to stop and
get him a beer.
"My older brother was passed out in his bedroom when I arrived Wednesday
night and stayed that way well into Thursday afternoon. The younger one
was obviously drunk -- and he's an annoying, petulant, psycho-analyzing
drunk.
"Two hours before dinner was ready, while the turkey was still in the
oven, my parents threw them out of the house forever. The older one had
to be physically helped to the car so my dad could drive him to a motel.
They refused to leave at first, and my mother had to call the sheriff to
convince them to go. They're unemployed, and they're penniless.
"During dinner, my mother and father were relaxed and happy. God knows
they deserve it, it's been twenty years. They kept smiling at me and
saying, 'I feel like a weight has rolled off my chest. I'm so much more
relaxed. Don't you feel more relaxed, sweetheart?'"
Merry laughs again, bitterly. "Yeah. Relaxed enough that if you have a
chisel and some industrial cleansers, you might be able to peel me down
off the ceiling by Christmas.
"They told my brothers they didn't want to see them until they'd been
employed and sober for a year. And then they took them to a motel, left
them money enough to stay there for a month in a double room and eat
while doing so, and left. I have no doubt that the money is already
gone. It disappears fast when you turn it into alcohol and drugs. I
have no doubt that in a very short time my brothers will be living on
the street. If they're not there already. Before they left, my younger
brother tried to explain to me that he didn't *have* to drink.
"I told him I didn't give a fuck whether he had to or just wanted to --
he'd done it, and ruined yet another holiday with it, and I was sick of
it. And I turned my back on him, and walked away.
"I think -- I'm pretty sure that I hate them. I know I hate everything
about who they've been all my life. I feel compassion for them because
they're human beings, and family. I feel guilt about them, because
somehow, I managed to survive our family and they didn't. I got out, and
they didn't. I can function in society, and they can't. I don't know
why it should be that way, but it is that way, and I feel terrible about
it. I'd give them my success (relative, meagre) if I could.
"The hard part is, sometimes I hate my parents, too. I love them, and I
can't stand them. They just *want* *so* *damn* *much*. Going home is
like a daytrip to Hell. I don't know when I stopped leaving dirty
dishes lying around and griping about their lifestyle, and started doing
their dishes for them and pretending to like Everybody Loves Raymond. I
don't know when I stopped telling them the stuff they wouldn't want to
hear, and playing up the things they would. I don't know when I became
the perfect daughter, but that's what I am: The one who made it, the
good one, the one who makes it all worthwhile. The one who validates
them. Hey, as long as *I* exist, they didn't fail completely, right?
"They need that. They need me to be courteous and respectful and
helpful around the house and interested in their lives and independent
and self-confident and strong. So, that's what I am. When I leave
after a visit, I feel completely, utterly drained from all the
pretending. The whole time I'm there, I feel like I'm stuck in an event
horizon, trying desperately to stay in orbit or break free. Anything so
I don't get sucked in.
"There's no way I could feel more relaxed after my brothers were thrown
out. It was just one more huge, horrible, viciously unhappy thing that
happened in front of me, that I couldn't control and couldn't escape.
It wasn't an end of anything for me. It was just ... another
Thanksgiving. My brothers were gone, but Mom and Dad and their
expectations were still there, only it was worse -- because now, in
addition to all the other things I had to be, I also had to be *happier*
after this tragic thing that happened. I had to act like it made things
*better*. And I had to do it while I felt absolutely dead inside.
"I told them, before I left, that if my brothers were home for
Christmas, I wouldn't be there. I don't think they understood. It's
not so much my brothers as it is the fear of being around my brothers
and my parents at the same time. I don't think I could live through
another holiday like this one. I'm starting to seriously *hate* the
holidays. I already hate going home for them. If I didn't think it
would devastate my parents, I'd never celebrate Thanksgiving or
Christmas again.
"I don't want to see my brothers again. I never planned to see them
after my parents die. I can't afford to support them financially and I
can't afford to support them emotionally. But right now -- I don't
really want to see my parents again, either. I just want to be left
alone. I've built a life for myself that doesn't revolve around
alcohol, around wondering who's drinking, and how much, and how bad it
will be, and how long I'll have to wait until it's over. I like my life
away from them, I like who I am away from them. When I'm with them, I
can feel every part of me that's damaged.
"So. Again, apologies to those I've been out of touch with. There's
not enough of me available right now to be in touch, but I'm working
through it."
Merry sighs. "Anyway. This was going to be a toast and a cept. The
cept is for my brothers, wherever they are. I want them to find peace,
I want them to be happy. I want them to have lives, and not be cold, or
hungry, or afraid, or lonely, or desperate. I want them not to be in
danger. It hurts, in a way I can't even express, to know that I can
never help them with any of that. They have to want to help themselves
before anyone else can be of any use to them.
"It's also for my parents. They deserve peace, and I hope they stick by
this decision. They've thrown my brothers out of the house forever a
*lot*, in case that wasn't clear. It's never helped. They always come
back, and my parents always let them. How do you listen to your child
saying he's cold, and sick, and hungry, and do nothing? I can't fathom
it. I couldn't do it. I can't expect them to, and I can't judge them
if they let my brothers come back again.
"But I hope they don't. Living with my parents hasn't helped them. For
twenty years, nothing my parents have been able to do has helped them.
Better that they find themselves out in the cold now, when they're maybe
young enough and strong enough to survive it, than ten or fifteen years
from now when my parents are gone and there's no one left to take care
of them.
"I guess, in a way, it's also for me. God knows I'm at the very, very
end of my strength. I want all of this to be over with every fiber of
my being.
"The toast... I don't know. To everybody who's ever survived this. To
every drunk that ever stopped drinking and didn't start again. And I
guess to me, too, for making it this far."
Merry holds up her mug. "And to everybody who kept reading. You guys
are made of strong stuff." She hurls the mug into the fireplace, where
it shatters with a surprisingly satisfying sound.
On the way back to the bar, she pauses, and smiles a little. "You know,
it just occurred to me that I'm doing this in a bar. God loves an iron."
--Merry
_hyperion_@_hexwood.com_
remove underscores to reply by email
Skylark
<hype...@hexwood.com> wrote:
>Feeling as if she'd died and forgotten to fall over, Merry stumbles into
>the bar and drops down into a chair. She waves feebly at Mike, who
>brings her a cup of strong black tea with cream.
>
>When it's gone, she looks up and around for familiar faces.
>
>"First -- my deep apologies to everybody I've been ignoring. If you've
>sent me email, I haven't been checking it. If you've called me, I've
>turned off my cell phone. If you've dropped by, I haven't been
>answering my door. I'll pick up on those things this weekend,
>god-willing.
>
>"This has been, without a doubt, one of the worst holidays in the
>history of mankind. I'm not talking just about me, here. If there were
>a list of the most horrific holidays ever experienced by anyone on the
>planet, this one I've just barely survived would be in the top ten.
>There were times I thought about leaving my parents' house and never
>coming back. There were times I watched my parents laughing together
>and wanted to cry. I was just afraid, if I started, I wouldn't stop.
>
(majority removed for brevity's sake, not because I don't care, but
because you need a response *now*, and I don't think I can adequately
respond to each point...)
>"I guess, in a way, it's also for me. God knows I'm at the very, very
>end of my strength. I want all of this to be over with every fiber of
>my being.
>
>"The toast... I don't know. To everybody who's ever survived this. To
>every drunk that ever stopped drinking and didn't start again. And I
>guess to me, too, for making it this far."
>
>Merry holds up her mug. "And to everybody who kept reading. You guys
>are made of strong stuff." She hurls the mug into the fireplace, where
>it shatters with a surprisingly satisfying sound.
>
>On the way back to the bar, she pauses, and smiles a little. "You know,
>it just occurred to me that I'm doing this in a bar. God loves an iron."
>
>--Merry
>
>_hyperion_@_hexwood.com_
>remove underscores to reply by email
>
Merry, I'm a newcomer here, and so _not_ a familiar face to you, but
your pain cies out for a response. What good thoughts I have to spare,
i send to you. I'd offer a Zen *HUG*, but in your drained emotional
state, an offer of physical contact from an unfamiliar adult male (who
is not a feline) might be misinterpreted (and I wouldn't blame you a
bit for doing so). And while God loves (and *is*) an iron, I think you
came here to share your pain because you know your good friends are
here to help you, including good friends you haven't met yet.
--
Skylark
"When you're strange, faces come out of the rain..."
Jim Morrison
D_Jim
Merry wrote:
>"The toast... I don't know. To everybody who's ever survived this. To
>every drunk that ever stopped drinking and didn't start again. And I
>guess to me, too, for making it this far."
Good Luck !
D.J.
--
djim55 atty datasync dotty com Disclaimer: Standard
"Utopia does not exist."
http://www.crosswinds.net/~drivein/ drive-in movie theaters update Sep 11,2001
http://www.datasync.com/~djim55/index.html
Margaret Szedenits
"Meredith Lynne" <hype...@hexwood.com> wrote in message
news:hyperion-11AD07...@news-server.houston.rr.com...
> >
> "The toast... I don't know. To everybody who's ever survived this. To
> every drunk that ever stopped drinking and didn't start again. And I
> guess to me, too, for making it this far."
>
(he died this year). Just because a parent stops drinking does not mean
they turn into a great person and a good parent. I have not spoken to my
mother in 10 or more years.
The longer I am away from them and out of contact the better I feel and the
better I am. I don't know if this will work for you, but making my mother
'dead' and not going to see my father has done me a world of good.
((((((((((((hugs)))))))))))))))))) if you want 'em.
Margaret rasises her glass of elderberry soda to Merry in toast.
(can't stand breaking glass, so I can't toss it)
Lynn Allen
> "I guess, in a way, it's also for me. God knows I'm at the very, very
> end of my strength. I want all of this to be over with every fiber of
> my being.
>
> "The toast... I don't know. To everybody who's ever survived this. To
> every drunk that ever stopped drinking and didn't start again. And I
> guess to me, too, for making it this far."
You'll make it, all the way.
You need to take care of yourself, first. You've recognized very clearly
the ways in which your parents drain your energy and your brothers
stress your peace of mind. I know myself, being the Good Child, how
burdensome that is. If you need distance to preserve that energy for
yourself, keep your distance. But be aware (says the Voice of
Experience) that physical distance is rarely enough. You've internalized
the needs of your parents, and you will respond to them and feed energy
into them *even at a physical remove* and this can be a killer. My
therapy bills will testify that learning to recognize this internal
shortcircuiting and to redirect your own energy isn't an easy task. But
oh, so worth it. :)
In my experience, alcoholics have at least two needs. One is for
drinking (not just the altered mental state brought by the alcohol, but
also the social and behavioral environment of drinkers/booze) and the
other is for extreme melodrama. To wit...throwing people out of the
house "forever" one more time. :/ An alcoholic may get sober, more
power to them, but they have a very hard row to hoe to get used to the
"boring" life that comes with not drinking. They don't have
alcohol-related upheavals to generate the necessary drama...they haven't
lost their job (again), their spouse isn't screaming at them for being
drunk (again), they're not in jail for DUI (again), so they have to
generate that angst out of other issues.
Your parents have your brothers, bless their pointy little heads. For
alcoholics who still have "drama-dependency" despite their sobriety,
upheaval and angst can feel like Normal Life, and they will seek it, and
look at you oddly if you suggest that the rest of the world doesn't live
that way most of the time. Really. Some adult children of alcoholics
exhibit the same need for drama. They've grown up knowing nothing else.
Others are so traumatized by it, they seek peace at any cost.
This is not to say there aren't tee-totalling drama queens everywhere,
or that some drunks aren't quiet, unassuming folks who drink in private
and never trouble anyone. Just that there seems to be a very STRONG
connection between alcoholism and the need for a life sparked by bad
decisionmaking, dysfunctional familial relationships, encounters with
law enforcement, and frequently raised voices and slammed doors.
If you need to stay away, stay away. Guiltlessly.
If your parents and your brothers have taken up residence inside your
head, move them out, or at least to a far distant suburb where their
barking dogs won't bother you. If you can't do this on your own, seek
help. For me, it was the only way I found peace inside my own head, and
learned to hear and recognize my *own* voice.
If you MUST visit, don't do it for days on end. Arrange for a few hours,
or one meal. But the bottom line is, do what's best for YOU.
Allow your strength to renew itself, and make itself known to you again.
You've made it this far, and you can always come here ( a bar where many
if not most do not drink alcohol) for comfort and support. :)
Lymaree
Dan Goodman
cited author.]
Good thoughts on the way!
Relevant self-help groups: Adult Children of Alcoholics; 12-step group.
(There's a spin-off called Adult Children Anonymous.)
Co-dependants Anonymous.
If neither of those is in your area, there might be something else.
In article <hyperion-11AD07...@news-server.houston.rr.com>,
hype...@hexwood.com says...
--
Dan Goodman
dsg...@visi.com
JAFO
"Meredith Lynne" <hype...@hexwood.com> wrote in message
news:hyperion-11AD07...@news-server.houston.rr.com...
> On the way back to the bar, she pauses, and smiles a little. "You know,
> it just occurred to me that I'm doing this in a bar. God loves an iron."
>
Prayers and good thoughts on the way for you and your family.
Kat Nagel
> "The toast... I don't know. To everybody who's ever survived this. To
> every drunk that ever stopped drinking and didn't start again. And I
> guess to me, too, for making it this far."
>
> Merry holds up her mug. "And to everybody who kept reading. You guys
> are made of strong stuff." She hurls the mug into the fireplace, where
> it shatters with a surprisingly satisfying sound.
Sneaky Furfoot lights a candle for Merry, and another for
her family. Goodthoughts for rest and strength follow the
flames.
The lilac-point pseudofeline considers joining the toast,
but that doesn't feel right somehow. Instead, a pinkygray
paw holds out a neatly-folded wedge of midnight blue with
white embroidery in the corner.
"My {{hugs}} blanket is available at the moment. You're
welcome to borrow it."
--
Sneaky Furfoot sneaky...@bluefrognet.net
DESPAMMED:Replace nickname with katnagel to reply
Peter Eng
----------
In article <hyperion-11AD07...@news-server.houston.rr.com>,
Meredith Lynne <hype...@hexwood.com> wrote:
> Feeling as if she'd died and forgotten to fall over, Merry stumbles into
> the bar and drops down into a chair. She waves feebly at Mike, who
> brings her a cup of strong black tea with cream.
>
> When it's gone, she looks up and around for familiar faces.
>
[snip In Which Merry Goes to Her Parents' House for Thanksgiving, and
Escapes With Her Sanity]
>
> "I told them, before I left, that if my brothers were home for
> Christmas, I wouldn't be there. I don't think they understood. It's
> not so much my brothers as it is the fear of being around my brothers
> and my parents at the same time. I don't think I could live through
> another holiday like this one. I'm starting to seriously *hate* the
> holidays. I already hate going home for them. If I didn't think it
> would devastate my parents, I'd never celebrate Thanksgiving or
> Christmas again."
>
"Their happiness is that important to you?"
>
> "I don't want to see my brothers again. I never planned to see them
> after my parents die. I can't afford to support them financially and I
> can't afford to support them emotionally. But right now -- I don't
> really want to see my parents again, either. I just want to be left
> alone. I've built a life for myself that doesn't revolve around
> alcohol, around wondering who's drinking, and how much, and how bad it
> will be, and how long I'll have to wait until it's over. I like my life
> away from them, I like who I am away from them. When I'm with them, I
> can feel every part of me that's damaged.
>
> "So. Again, apologies to those I've been out of touch with. There's
> not enough of me available right now to be in touch, but I'm working
> through it."
>
"I can't speak for anybody else, but I don't have anything urgent for you,
and if I did, it could wait. Oh, by the way," Peter pauses to rummage
through his pockets, "this might be of use."
+----------------------+
| |
| This Coupon Good |
| For One Hug And |
| Optional Smooches |
| From Peter Eng |
| |
| No Expiration Date |
| |
+----------------------+
"It doesn't cure anything, but it helps ease the symptoms for some people."
>
> Merry sighs. "Anyway. This was going to be a toast and a cept. The
> cept is for my brothers, wherever they are. I want them to find peace,
> I want them to be happy. I want them to have lives, and not be cold, or
> hungry, or afraid, or lonely, or desperate. I want them not to be in
> danger. It hurts, in a way I can't even express, to know that I can
> never help them with any of that. They have to want to help themselves
> before anyone else can be of any use to them.
>
Peter says nothing. The faraway look in his eyes says more than words can.
>
> On the way back to the bar, she pauses, and smiles a little. "You know,
> it just occurred to me that I'm doing this in a bar. God loves an iron."
>
A glass that used to hold hot chocolate and four Altoids hits the fireplace.
Peter Eng
--
"Sometimes, I think all that saved me from totally screwing up my life was
watching my older brother screw up his life."
j.w.
Meredith Lynne <hype...@hexwood.com> wrote in message
news:hyperion-11AD07...@news-server.houston.rr.com...
> the bar and drops down into a chair
<major snippage>
j.w., whose sister is an alcoholic and who spent many years being The Good
Child, has no words to say, but offers a hug and a shoulder should either be
welcome.
j.w.
Marten Kemp
>
> Feeling as if she'd died and forgotten to fall over, Merry stumbles into
> the bar and drops down into a chair. She waves feebly at Mike, who
> brings her a cup of strong black tea with cream.
>
> When it's gone, she looks up and around for familiar faces.
>
> Merry holds up her mug. "And to everybody who kept reading. You guys
> are made of strong stuff." She hurls the mug into the fireplace, where
> it shatters with a surprisingly satisfying sound.
>
> On the way back to the bar, she pauses, and smiles a little. "You know,
> it just occurred to me that I'm doing this in a bar. God loves an iron."
>
> --Merry
>
> _hyperion_@_hexwood.com_
> remove underscores to reply by email
Merry, I'm a newcomer here. Please accept a plethora of Good Thoughts. I
haven't any accompanying words that can match those already posted.
-- Marten Kemp