Behaviors

drunkeness is nothing but voluntary madness

By Andria ⋅ April 3, 2008 ⋅  Email This Post ⋅  Print This Post ⋅ Post a comment

Growing up, I knew alcohol was a problem in our household. My father abused it, my mother despised it. Drunk, he would scream and shout, and sometimes abuse. My mother would retaliate, by pouring out bottles and cans. I grew up knowing the sound of clinking bottles, and the pop of a can being opened. Whether it was by my mother or father; it didn’t bode well. The fights that would follow, and then the silence. A tense family, consumed by the evil of the drink. My father numbing his pain, and my mother dealing by passive aggressive means.

I always knew that substance abuse was an issue that coursed through my veins. Actually, not just substance abuse, but the inability to overcome certain obstacles. The inability to deal, and being consumed by other things. Whether it actually was substance abuse, or shopping. Collecting of any and all things. I have always been careful that I didn’t get swept up into that lifestyle. Because, I know it can, and will, take over me.

When we moved into this house, along with my newly SAHM (stay at home mom) status, I decided to go green. Do something positive, for once. I googled, and read. Started implementing things, that racked up my “greenness” score. Changing lightbulbs, eliminating certain cleansers and paper products. Switching to cloth napkins, at all times. Even though I had a stash, I wanted more. Some that were pretty, and matched our new dishes. At every store I went to, I would see the cloth napkins, and they beckoned to me. I bought a rainbow of colors, and cloth napkins for holidays. Silk, linen, and cotton. Napkins that would match both our everyday dishes, and the fine bone china that we received as wedding presents. After the wicker basket I put them in became to overflow, I mentally had to tell myself to stop. It’s little things like this, that show me that there could be a problem. That I need to always keep my actions in check.

I never was one to do drugs, or to drink. In high school, as friends experimented, I passed on the chance. I grew up during Nancy Reagan’s “Just Say No” campaign, and was honestly scared of drugs. The scare tactics that were used to describe drugs worked on me. I would shake my head in amazement at the people who would come to school on Mondays, describing the acid trips they took the previous weekend. Always wondering, don’t they know that acid will MAKE YOUR BRAIN BLEED? Harder drugs, such as heroin or cocaine would leave you begging on corners, and living in a refrigerator box under a bridge somewhere. These campaigns scared the shit out of me, and left me NEVER wanting to come close to smoking, injecting, inhaling, or taking an aspirin. I am so anti-drug, that I went all Amazon and went through natural childbirth, twice. And be assured, I intend to pass this useful information along in due time to my children.

Three months before I turned 21, it was winter break. I had just completed the semester finals, and had a long weekend off from work. My best guy friend, the one who walked me down the aisle at my wedding, was on leave from the Army and in town. I lived in a duplex near the college, where several friends also lived. We lived in a circle, in which there was a park in the middle. It was a fun place to live. Ailane was a toddler, and went to a nearby daycare during the day while I was in school, and would stay with my parents at night while I worked. (Once again, I never slept. Imagine that.)

We were all off from work and school, and bored. Someone came up with the grand idea of having a continuous block party; each night for the following week, a party would happen at someone’s duplex. We joked that it was the best thing ever, because not only were we not out driving, but we were going to put our kids to sleep, at our own duplex. Hey, a night of babysitting equals a bottle of something good. Or, if you are of the Boone’s quality, then 20 bottles of something good.

What followed was a week of partying and drinking. It was pretty tame, for the most part. We would put the kids to bed, BBQ, have some drinks, and play card games or watch movies. The kids were asleep at a reasonable hour. A controlled environment. But, my drinking wasn’t controlled.

I started drinking, and wouldn’t stop until the party was over. Starting with wine coolers, and then progressing into the female drinks. Cosmos and amaretto sours, appletinis and daquiris. Eventually, I started taking shots. Fuzzy navels, buttery nipples, and something called the bumble bee. I was young, stressed out from being a single parent, work, and school. After the first night, I felt happy. Free of all the stressors in my life. The alcohol numbed the overwhelming factors that I had to face on a daily basis.

On the 5th or 6th night, I was getting tired, and decided to go home to go to sleep. It was dark, and a friend offered to walk me back to my place. I went into the bedroom, scooped Ailane up, and stumbled back. What happened next, was a complete accident. I accidentally bumped Ailane’s head into the pillar of my porch, as I was walking up the 3 short steps into my duplex. Something, that happens to parents all the time. Not realizing, as you round the corner, that your child is leaning out, and bumping them. It wasn’t a hard hit, just a slight bump. But, enough to cause a small scrape and bruise to crop up on her forehead. She woke for just a moment, and then went back to sleep.

I know it’s not much, but it meant a lot to me. I realized that alcohol was something that could become a problem. Because, I was readily enjoying it way too much. During that week, I had also began drinking during the day, while cleaning the house. Just winecoolers and such, nothing hard. But, the fact that I was drinking alone, medicating myself, cried out to me. I knew I had to stop, before it became an issue.

So, I did, and over time I started drinking again. In moderation, of course. Always cutting myself off at a certain point. Making sure that if I was going to drink, that I ate a meal beforehand. Realizing, that I liked the feeling of being in control and clearheaded. The cloudiness that alcohol puts you under, made me nervous and paranoid.

Discovering that I didn’t have to continue the cycle of my father. My daughter wasn’t going to be raised in a house where alcohol changed the environment. I may not always be the best mother, and sometimes I may fail. There are nights that I go to sleep, and feel like I have failed as a parent for the day. But, the next day is a fresh start, and I can start all over. Clearheaded, without my judgment being impaired. And, that is what matters most.

Tags: alcoholism, college, Friends, life, Remembering, wedding picture