Heartbroken by Alcohol


This picture is an accurate depiction of my emotions, thoughts, and anxiety..

I’m at a crossroads; I don’t know which direction to go.

My codependency says to me, “Help them. They need you.”
My logical mind says, “You’ve tried. The only person you can help now is yourself.”

I’ve lost count on how many empty alcohol containers I’ve found hidden. It saddens me that this has happened so many times that I’ve lost count. Each bottle I come across gives me flashbacks. I relive the moments where my mother’s side of the family was being emotionally terrorized. I was too young to understand completely what was happening, but I remember it all.

My grandfather was a good man with a broken soul. Childhood abuse can do so much damage that doesn’t show up for years and years. A patriot, a marine, he taught my brother and I self defense moves and how to shoot a BB gun. I was too young to realize that he was inebriated the whole time. Could I have changed it if I did notice?

I remember, what I found out later was, his rehab graduation. A room full of people in a building that I’ve never been to before. Being too shy to help myself to the treats that were provided, he helped me load a plate. We sat outside. Strangely, it was an extremely enclosed and small patio. I remember everyone being so happy, clapping and congratulating these patients. I remember it being a good day. I didn’t find out it was his rehab graduation until 2017, so many years after the fact.

I remember his car, which later was passed down to me as my first car. He was never able to drive it. I figured it was his badly hurt knee that he had a brace for. Today, I now realize that it might have been due to drinking.

Then, I remember him getting so sick, so quickly. His liver was failing. He was on dialysis. I didn’t know what that was, but it didn’t sound good. He was always in the hospital; he was so sick. What was he there for? Why was he dying? My 12/13 year old brain didn’t understand what the problem was.

This was his last day. He was 46. My mom was sad, my grandmother was sad. We walked along the blank white halls, peeking in rooms as we passed. It was a place of pure sadness. I remember overworked nurses running the halls constantly. The halls constantly beeped and I didn’t know why. Were those noises from patients that were pressing the “call” button? My mom told my brother and I to wait outside the room. I was sad, embarrassed to look up at any nurses passing by because I didn’t want them to see me crying. My mom and grandmother let us into the room. Wires, lines, and tubes were everywhere; machines were constantly making noise. Was this life support? I am just realizing, now, that yes, it was life support. My mom told us, through tears, “He’s not awake and won’t respond.” I was terrified. Who was this man? Where did my grandfather go? He’s just lying there, so still, and so yellow [jaundice]. I wanted to say, “Grandpa?” and I wanted him to sit up in the hospital bed and respond to me. I wanted him to know that I was there. I remember my grandmother and my mom telling us, “It’s okay if you want to hug him.” I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to hurt him. He looked like he was in pain and I was terrified that I’d be hurting him. I will never get that image out of my head.

Next thing I knew, we were pulling up to a funeral home. Who were all these people? Were they unfamiliar family members? They all knew my name.

I remember barely being able to contain myself. I just wanted to run out of there. I didn’t want to see him in the casket, lifeless. He didn’t belong there!

Everyone stopped crying after the funeral. Not me, I was at my worst because I didn’t feel the need to be quiet anymore; we were no longer in an enclosed room. We went to my grandmother’s house, while we left my grandfather in a casket. NO! What was this? A party? Why did everyone come to my grandmother’s house for a party after a funeral? I was told it was to celebrate his life. A party didn’t help; I still wanted him back.

As I mentioned before, his car was passed down to me. That little baby lasted so long. Then, I got into a car accident, a bad one. To the junkyard it went; It was completely totaled. In a way, I feel as though if I were in a different car, I wouldn’t be here right now. What prompted me to look right to see a car coming in my general direction? Was he looking out for me? If I didn’t look right, I wouldn’t have hit the brakes when I did, and the accident would’ve happened a different way. I don’t think I would have lived. Hitting the brakes 1 second sooner saved my life. Looking right for an unknown reason saved my life. I am sad that I no longer have his car, but a car doesn’t last forever anyways.

I do have something else of his, though. I lived with my grandmother at age 19. I was also in a horribly abusive and dangerous relationship. He found a bin in my grandmothers garage of my grandfather’s belongings. While he wasn’t looking, I took my grandfather’s marine knife [it was in a holder]. I took it for my safety. I’ve had it ever since for my safety. This man was unpredictable; his family was unpredictable. That knife was under my pillow or partly under my mattress [so I could easily grab it if need be] every single night. I still have it and I will keep it. It is the only thing I have left of him. I feel horrible for never telling my grandmother about this. I didn’t want it taken away from me.

This is what every hidden alcohol container I find [now] does to me. I can’t watch another person I love slowly kill their body with poison. It’s painful, not only for the person drinking, but their family and friends as well.

I’m constantly told, “I don’t have a problem,” or “At least I don’t hit you.”
Hiding alcohol containers is all I need to conclude that you do, indeed, have a problem or will have a problem soon. I don’t have to be a victim of physical abuse for your behavior and habits to categorically fall under “Alcoholism”. My number one point is that I’m not going to let myself go through this pain again.



5 Replies to “Heartbroken by Alcohol”

  1. Alcoholism and addiction is a disease that affects everyone around the addict. It’s a demon. I really hope whoever is hiding these bottles gets the help they need soon. In the meantime, you are loved and supported by a lot of people out here. If you want to talk, vent, or anything, feel free to get in touch with me. I’m keeping you in my thoughts.

  2. Thank you! Having a blog really helps with not repressing feelings, as well as gaining a new perspective once the thoughts are written out.

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