bottle

i come in last,
i always have.
the bottle wins everytime.
and i feel last.
i feel empty.
i feel alone.
broken shards make me bleed.
my dreams gurgle down the drain.
watching you slipping into numb, unconcious darkness.
i dream to be big, to be happy.
be far away from it all.
forget it, forgive it.....
but no,
i still hate it.

it's cold again.
i'm alone again.
like a little girl again.
i shiver.
i thought i let it go.
i thought the scars had healed.
i thought i could live my life - forget the pain.
but it was here all along.

inside the bottle.

i hate.
i spew.
i cry.
i shake.
the wounds hurt so much - i'm just numb to the pain.

and when i feel it, i shove it deep....
inside the bottle.
and i'm numb again.


It's not the drink that harms the child - it's the effects of the addiction. My Dad never physically hurts us - ever. But the instability, fear and uncertainty that surrounded our family has left scars. I often think I've let it go - moved on. I have my own family - we live 6 hours away and I don't have to live that life anymore. My husband and I have both been hurt by alcoholism and seldom have a drink. We've created a secure home here and my Dad's disease doesn't have to hurt me anymore...

But it does. It still hurts. It still has that control over me.

I couldn't sit here and list off all of the pain, and the ways that growing up the daughter of an alcoholic has affected me. It's like it just hits me every once in a while. And I look in the mirror and go "yeah, this is another thing."

It's hindered my ability to love, my ability to reason, my ability to trust. I grew up thinking that if we pretended it wasn't happening - everything would be ok. Like the elephant in the living room...we were just supposed to pretend that we were happy. I resent my Dad for making us live like that, I resent my mom for allowing us to stay, I resent God for not taking it all away....and I resent the pain inside me that is not allowing me to love the way I should love.

I feel that we mocked the nature of a family by pretending to be happy. We went to church and laughed, we had friends over and played, we even told people about our Dad -- but it was always concluded with 'but it's ok.'

In the end, the child of an alcoholic learns that you can't trust. People will love you -- but they will always hurt you. You must accept inappropriate behaviour and expect lies from people who claim to love you. You might as well pretend to be happy, because you never really will be. Just when you think you've found solid ground - be careful - it will all be ripped out from under you. And lastly, that a bottle, a career, another person, something else will always come before you.....you are second best.

Breaking these beliefs is the hardest thing I will ever have to do.