My earliest vivid memory is as a four year old. It is not a pleasant memory, and probably not a complete memory. I can see my mother standing in front of the stove stirring something, and she was crying. When a four year old child sees their mother crying it is worrisome, I can feel that worry and fear as I type this. Enter father, some words were exchanged between parents, what they were I do not know.
I can hear things breaking and then he called my name. I went toward him and saw him sitting at the top of the cellar stairs throwing bottles down the steps. I thought he was aware of my presence standing next to him, but he never said anything else to me.
I imagine I went to bed early that night, I don’t remember anything about dinner or after dinner, getting ready for bed or getting into bed. Sometime during the night I woke up and again could hear my mother crying. I went out into the hallway and there she was sitting at the top of the stairs crying and I remember asking her why she was crying. Honestly I think she just told me to go back to bed and I’m sure that’s that I did, I was obedient at four.
The next morning I went downstairs and saw that something had gone very wrong overnight. Furniture was knocked over, books were all over the floor, I had no idea what had gone on.
This experience was a traumatic event in my life, my brother and sisters’ lives and of course my mother’s life. The elephant in that room is called alcoholism, a voracious predator. Alcoholism, aka Addiction, devours people, families, dignity, morals, in other words a soul eater.
I grew up before mental health was considered an essential part of life. I remember being very afraid every night, expecting the same thing to happen, that lasted for a long time. The elephant was never talked about, never acknowledged, never explained. The unspoken rule was you just forgot about it, it never happened. Do not talk to any of your friends or teachers. We were in a parochial school, who would tell a nun anything? We did not even talk to each other about it.
Adults living through this kind of drama have a slight edge because they understand what is going on. We as children were afraid and confused. We stuffed these feelings since there was no outlet for them at the time. Emotions are funny things, throughout our lives they reappear as other emotions like anger, depression, anxiety and resentment. The emotions can be destructive in relationships, causing more difficulties. Millions of people have lived like this, different dramas played out with very similar results.
My father did get help for his alcoholism. Recovery takes longer for some than it does for others. He was mean, verbally abusive, emotionally detached and abusive, and in some instances physically abusive. Another broken family.
Fortunately, we, as humans, have to move on, damaged on the inside, intact on the outside. We try to live our lives as best we can.
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