After all this time, I wanted to blog again – and blogger is down! Irony? Sarcasm? Coincidence? Just my luck?
I don’t really want to talk about any of this as life is playing one pretty damn interesting game with me right now, keeping one thing for sure, I’m definitely not bored. I started writing because it helped me in dealing with issues before, in my teenage years. Soon after the begining I didn’t want to write anything more, it was making me even more depressed thinking about it all, writing it down, re-reading it … feeling like I’m not actually DOING anything about it.
At that time I also found out about a place I can afford, a nonprofit organization, where I could talk to someone who knows more about fighting alcoholism and made my first appointment with a psychologist. I cried the whole hour and spoke franticaly, obviously very hard to be understood at all. But the reaction to my first action was more than I expected. At that moment, simply having a professional to listen to you and plainly and directly tell you that you’re not the only one going through such a thing, even more important, giving you a positive image of the future, meant a lot to me.
Going home, looking down, hiding my cried out eyes, I’ve had a lot to digest. Thoughts, ideas, options, actions … I went to the place couple times now and moved on a lot. I told my whole family I’m seeing a psychiatrist about dad’s drinking, invited them several times to come with me. Dad doesn’t know about this. I think.
But after a little while the pressure was too hard and my personal life stood still in a place that I didn’t like for too long, I needed to face dad. I wasn’t able to talk to him about how I feel, about how it got too far, how the situation hurts and influences us all. So I wrote him a letter.
Even after couple weeks, even months, I start crying remembering his reaction. I got the sweetest txt from him as I wasn’t at home at that moment. Sweetest because it was so much like who he was before all this. Straight and honest, without sarcasm, disappointment, anger or any other negative feelings I expected of him. I don’t remember when was the last time or if he ever told me before that he loves me, us – his family.
Dad and I used to had ups and downs that could go on for months. We now successfully moved to positive, open and direct communication, we talk more, we fight less. One day I even managed to tell him in person what the whole family was afraid of telling him for months. How his body is physically addicted to alcohol. How he was taking drugs for abstinence crisis for couple weeks because the doctor figured him out on his first morning in the hospital after the accident.
He now knows. He knows I know. He knows he can talk to me.
Yet we’re stuck in this vacuum of silence, waiting for … waiting for what?!
No comments:
Post a Comment