Friday, July 17, 2015

How This Abused Child Ended Up a Drunk

I learned terror, fear, shame and how to stuff all of my emotions from my family of origin . All of them, I was not allowed to express myself. I understand how I became rebellious, I was never allowed to fully be myself. What I wanted to do, or how I wanted to look, even what I wanted to study were all less than inferior, stupid and insignificant. If I did not support my mother's false and exponentially inflated picture she wanted to present to the outside world, I was bullied, criticized and punished.

I am determined to remember as much of my background as possible. Sometimes I sit and cry; I have no idea what I am crying about. I have read that people block out traumatic memories because they are so horrible. That trauma is so great that it is hidden because it can not be processed.

I understand that. My mother was a sadistic and cruel psychopath. To this day I struggle with accepting how violent and unrelenting she was in her poisonous rule over her household. She even had a hand bell at her bedside that she would ring whenever she wanted something. We had to stop whatever we were doing and find out what she wanted.

I remember one occasion where I was studying. She harped endlessly on getting an education but it had to be in the subjects she approved of. Her degree was in Literature.I fell in love with Sciences at a very early age and I want to go to Medical School. She was never once supportive of what I wanted to do. So I am studying and I hear her bell. I went to see what the hell she wanted. She was in her bed typing. She had her typewriter set up so she could sit in her bed and work on her writing. Well, I go in and find out she can't see her clock. Said clock was about 3 feet from her bed. She interrupted me and my studying because she was to lazy to walk 3 feet to turn her clock around.

I was FURIOUS! I told her to move it herself, I turned around and went back to my room.

I drank because I had no idea what was buried so deep inside me. I did not know how to get relief from that horrid unforgiving pain so I drank for relief. Drinking and getting drunk provided me for a break from the turmoil raging inside. That break was never sufficient; I needed to drink harder and get drunker. I would stay caught up in that cycle for a long time of my life. I drank hard and drove dangerously for roughly 30 years of my life.

Truthfully, I should not be here.

No comments:

Post a Comment