Tags: alcoholism

moon

Christmas in the land of alcohol addiction

Hello everyone. Thanks to the tremendous and very practical help I got last time I posted, I haven't been by here forfreaking ever. *is a bad friend* I'm doing a lot better at staying calm and thinking things through by myself now, and I'm very grateful to you all for your aid in that.

I wrote this for my blog, and thought it could be relevant to some of you guys. It's about trying to think my way past a Christmas with the alcoholic who used to make my life miserable, now he no longer makes my life miserable.

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My mother is a stranger.....

Ok. This might seem horrible but I don't want to go to the hospital to visit my mother. She had back surgery yesterday and will be there for a couple of days...or more. Probally more. I just don't want to go. I feel like she is a stranger. Not my mother. Everyone says, she's your mother, you have to learn to accept her and all her faults. But I just can't. I had been hurting for so long because of everything that has happened. There were many tear filled nights over the "loss/absence" of a mother. I was seperated from my mother when I was around five years old and didn't see her again until I was 18 years old. I think. She had always been trying to be there for me but the family hid me from her. Why? Cause she was a raging alcholic and may have dabbled in drugs. But she was not mentally or emmotional in a good state of being. So it's not my mother fault but I still have a lot of unresolved conflict inside of me. And I don't feel like working on a relationship with my mother. She's a stranger and I don't like what I see when I go to visit her. She doesn't look good. You can see everything she has been through written on her body and face. And I can't stand to see her drinking and spilling stuff all over the place. I feel bad sometimes in what I say. Like yesterday, I told my aunt, "Your not my mother, so I'll actually make time to come out and see you." (my aunt is like a mother to me...very much so) She chidded me for the comment. She said I shouldn't be like that. I can't help it. I don't know that woman. I don't know. So, more than likely, I'll be expected to go and see my mom. It will probally hurt her if I don't. So as to not feel too guilty I probally will. I just don't want to. Anybody else feel like this toward their mother? Did you try to establish a relationship? Any Tips? Why is there so much pressure to fulfill our roles as daughters?
Kelly

new to the group

Hi, im kelly, and im new here. I am a survivor of both childhood sexual abuse, and rape as a teen. I was mostly doing ok with things, after having been in some really good therapy earlier...but the last six months of my life have been really beyond stressful, and i find that when i'm under stress things i thought i had conquered seem to come back to haunt me, and i could use some support. I've x-posted from a recent lj entry to give you some background on me.

The other day at my feminist group I began filling people in about my life the last few months, and, as I usually do, I started out being funny, trying to make my life sound like some bizzaro-i love Lucy episode...except once I was done and I started thinking about how awful it all was, I started to cry. It’s a good thing. I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t really had time to *feel* much of anything. Life has been so hard lately that I’m amazed I can even stand up.

One of the toughest things about the last few months was seeing the man who raped me at my grandfather’s funeral. That whole era of my life was just so hard and so painful, and seeing him, and being HUGGED by him brought a lot of that back for me.

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Fast forward to April, when boy shows up at grandpa's funeral, and GIVES ME A HUG. I felt myself sink into the ground as I stared at the floor not really listening to him tell me about his kids and his job and simultaneously fighting the urge to deck him, and to run away screaming. I can still feel his hands on me. It’s like an imprint on my skin that goes beyond cellular level. I want to shed my skin like a snake except it feels like even if I could, his handprints would still be there. I can’t stand the smell of polo cologne, because that’s what he wore (is it just me, or is that the cologne of choice for sketchy people?) Part of me wants to tear him limb from limb, and part of me wants to tear myself limb from limb. I can literally feel the fibers of my heart tear as my heart breaks. Its not every day. I’m a lot better. I’d even say I’m recovered, as much as anyone ever recovers from something like this...or at least I’m 80% there. I even had a pap, and it was ok, which is a huge improvement from the past, where I got so dissociated I walked straight into a telephone pole.

It’s just, sometimes, like now, all the heartache from the last 16 years bears down on me, and I can’t believe I can even stand for the pain of it all. I feel flattened, crushed, broken and bruised and *sigh* sometimes, when it all hits, it seems like it’s impossible, like this couldn’t have all happened to one person, let alone me. And I know other people have been through worse, and probably handled it better. Still, my life can be overwhelming at times. And this is one of them.

Thanks for listening
angrysky

Introductions

Hey all, as Take Back the Night approaches I've been craving the community of survivors and found you guys.

My name is Levi. I'm a survivor of perhaps too much to put here, or too much to articulate properly.

As a small, small child (3, 4, 5) I was sexually abused by my mother; I blocked these memories until I was 18 and living on the streets. Many of my relationships in the early years of dating were based around power struggles that all too often crossed the line. I am also a recovering alcoholic and addict, at the time I was using and all too often my relationships relied on drugs not respect.

None of these words show what I really need to say or what I really need to express. All too often I hide in the shell of the bare details, refusing to push further. My alcoholism, addiction, and bipolar disorder only serve as greater functions in the pattern of avoidence. It is easier to hide than to be real.

Never would I want to take what I have experieced away from myself; however, I would never wish it on someone else either. I would not be the person I am without every single experience up until this very moment--and for once in my life I do love the person who looks back in the mirror (for all her emotions, flaws, and assets.) I love the person I am today, I love the strength and power my abuse has given me today; it is not the battle of dealing with the abuse so much anymore, it is primarily the battle of dealing with trying to find a community where I fit (I'm a 21 year old college student who feels like she is 40.) In high school the community where I fit was the domestic violence, sexual assault, and incest prevention community; I spent three years of high school as a peer educator in a domestic violence prevention program. This community still remains a powerful (albeit geographically distant) force in my daily life...hopefully, you guys will be able to give me that strength of survival yet again.