I won’t bore you with my childhood, except to let you know that my dad’s dad was a drunken asshole, and my mom’s dad killed himself at 41, because he felt the party was over, and the responsibility of raising a family was pressing.
My dad is a loaded gun while growing up. He is essentially in a “dry drunk”, meaning he had the symptoms of an Alcoholic without drinking. He wanted to create a perfect family, a far cry from what he grew up in.
My sister missed the rage by producing straight A’s in school and being silent unless spoken to. I became the center target when I struck the first beat on my drumset, drank the first sip of alcohol, and took the first puff of smoke.
Long hours at the job, then coming home to work on his hobbies, then listening to me, is enough to start my father’s time bomb. Television can only babysit a family for so long. There’s a silence that looms over the dinner table, there is a silent dread that falls with night upon the household.
I begin to rock myself while watching the Muppets. I sat Indian style on the floor and pushed myself forward then back. The motion created a sense of freedom, the motion of moving from one place to another. Eventually, this motion matured into driving away in my car from one place to another. The grass is greener on the other side of silent suffering and domestic hell.
There’s a backdrop to this motion. It’s called Rock music, audible rebellion, notes that tingled the spine and created visions of defiance. I am whoever I wanted to be, with just my head encased between headphones.
My ears rang at night, from my lengthy escape into my imagination, from after dinner until bed. Listening to dark heavy Metal and dreaming of destroying the bullies at school is a far cry from the days when Dad wanted to dance with me in his arms to the Beegees.
Yes, in a way this is normal rebellion. But, the seed of Alcoholism is planted on both sides of the pot. My mother’s dad was like Jack Kerouac, a Pinocchio unwilling to grow up, with the effervescent buzz of the first sip of Alcohol, to the last drop in the morning shaking and filled with dread of impending work; and, my dad’s dad, angry, demented, sitting in a dark corner of the house, terrifying the family with a shotgun. It’s a legacy, this demon Alcohol that destroys families while hiding behind slick advertisements. America’s first lover, Alcohol.
Copyright 2012. Erik Christian Please visit my ebook page: http://www.amazon.com/Erik-Christian/e/B008C2WKNI/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
That’s is a vague description of my family too. I know the black hell of which you speak my friend and it sux!
I cannot relate in totality, but I love what you had to say about the television babysitting the family. That’s incredibly true for a lot of families I believe and I often just wanted to chunk our television out the window. Although I do appreciate that my parents were more than ready to turn off the television to talk or calmly address issues and discuss life if I needed people to confide in. I appreciate that htey were willing, I know not everyone has that growing up.
Heavy stuff. You have a way with words!
Thank you for visiting my blog. I understand the dilemma and the need to escape. Thank the IS I was spared in my childhood, didn’t meet the guys with demons until I was older. Hang in there.
Very similar to my own childhood.
Thanks for dropping by my blog and liking my picture!
Your words paint a very clear picture. I have friends that have come from situations similar to yours and life is very difficult for them. It’s great you can write about this because putting your thoughts down on paper is good therapy. I know this from my own personal experiences. When I write things down it helps me think about them more realistically and I can deal with them better. Keep writing!!
Although I just “liked” this, obviously it’s disturbing.
Music is reason to keep on living. Music is Love.
Wondering how old you are. Please email if you ever need to talk.
Alcohol and drug abuse can definitely have long long term effects, unto several generations. Though my great grandfather was a drunk enough to fall asleep in the snow and lose both his legs, drinking “skipped my grandmother and mom and jumped to me. I escaped early,quit drinking when I was 21 and never looked back.. I owe that release to tapping into my creativity in whatever way I can, reading books, making, gardening. Your post is powerful. I love the fact that you are using music and your writing. as ways to love yourself. Keep on.
Thanks for stopping by and liking my Whoopi post today. You are not your father or family’s keeper! Keep sharing.
Clara.
I love the way you write…I can imagine everything in my mind. Writing is a great way to express yourself. It was a sad story, but the picture makes me crack a smile just a little (although that is also sad).
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Your writing is absolutely beautiful for such a tormented and difficult topic
I love the honesty as you paint with words.
Clara54 is spot on: you are not anybody else. You are you and you can become the person you want to be. I don’t believe addiction is genetic, rather borne out of circumstance. Take yourself away from the bad situation and you can be free to be who you want and to do what you want in moderation. Not always easy, but the chance is there.
The notion of ‘dry drunk’ is interesting. What does it mean; that he had the personality of an addict, but expressed it in different ways?
Yes, people in twelve-step programs think that if you’re not working a program of recovery, then you exhibit symptoms of a drunk or addict, even if you don’t drink and have the “gene”, you can still have symptoms like a drinker. etc. Thanks for visiting!
Man… tough start dude, sorry… I don’t know the story, but I hope it’s getting better.
M
Very touching read and I hope as time passes, your heart heals. I never see the alcoholic. I believe it has a root and sadly, they didn’t know who to turn to or where to get help. When we are overwhelmed we turn to various things. I hope things get better and that you will be a beacon to those who are still facing / dealing with the effects of alcohol in their families.
Thanks for stopping by Stepping into the Water. Great observations in your post. We are the strong ones who can break the cycle of the ancestoral demons our parents were too weak to fight off.
Marisa
Reblogged this on Oyia Brown and commented:
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Thanks for sharing. When I was 15, my father would come home late at night, drunk and argumentative. It frightened me enough to never imbibe. Thanks also, Erik, for the LIKE on my blog (memoir #60). It led me to reading this post. May your writing help you heal (as my own has done for me). I wish you well.
Loved your piece. Very poignant. We take the first drink for fun but, keep drinking out of desperation. I feel that, in the end, alcohol induces a chemical depression for which there is no cure. Even after years without drink, the demons that make us drink are still there. Of course, writing about it helps but, lifelong therapy with a professional is often what is really needed. I see a therapist for my chronic depression. I wish my Dad would do the same to sort out his alcohol demons. Even at age 76, he is still troubled and it usually manifests as anger. Again, nice piece, keep up the work, it never ends.
Erik, this is very powerful. I too lived in a house with a drunk and then a dry-drunk. It was not a pleasant place and has impacted the next generation of my family so negatively. It takes a lot of work to overcome.
The war on drugs forgot to tackle the biggest problem legal drug, alcohol, it has been the primary cause for disfunction, abuse and violence in the home since it became freely available.
Very well written piece.
Very well written and completely felt. Your story could be mine, oh wait, parts are. Once recognized, the task is to move through it and to resiliency. Thank you for the courage to share.
Alexandra
I noticed that you’d read, and ‘liked’ one of my blogs so thought I’d take a look at yours. Now I’ve read at least five and I’m taken. This is a great one and full of insight.
I do like reading about the ‘bad’ boy but you’re right it does have to be balanced, light and shade. MY uncle was an alcoholic and I’m trying to write a bit about him at the moment. His ex wife recently sent me some of his writings and they are so good whereas I only remember him as a drunk!
I ‘ve just started blogging and know I ‘m doing the same as you described -scattergunning. Did you read any more of mine and do you have any tips for me? I’d appreciate advice from someone who has thought about it.
I once attended an Alcohol Anonymous group with a client of mine, none of the members expressed the impact of their addiction on relatives. It was interesting to hear the account from another perspective since most people focus on the perpetrator and not the victims.
Nicely written.
Wow.
Thanks for an important invitation to live and love deeply. Also, thanks for stopping by stillvoicing.
Raging is another form of addiction, based on adrenaline instead of ethanol. I believe the same part of the brain is involved and other characteristics of the alcoholic brain apply.
Wow!
That hit a few raw nerves….
I understand your comments as my father was an alcoholic. He had his first shot of whiskey/rum/brandy as soon as he woke up and was an aggro, angry, bitter man. I could understand why he drank, he felt love was missing from his life, but the healthiest thing I ever did was to walk away and allow him to sink or swim. He sank. He ended up unable to talk much due to strokes, confined to a wheelchair, in a nursing home. Very sad to see your father in this state but it did teach me compassion and forgiveness. Good luck with your life.
Beautifully written, painfully on point