Drunk fathers count, too. But in my case, my father was a happy drunk. He drank every day, but his demeanor usually didn't change. Just once I saw him red in the face and giggling too much. It wasn't very threatening.
My mother is another story. You have never met a more vicious, spiteful, disdainful, black-hearted woman. She enjoys sucking all the joy out of the smallest grace, the kindest gesture, the happiest event. The bluebird of happiness could perch on her finger and she would complain bitterly that it scratched her skin and made too much noise singing.
Even though I'm a writer, I have not said anything in public about my mother's alcoholism for 59 years for fear of letting out "the secret." And she did do an incredible job fooling people. I was afraid of her friends might see something, and it would get back to her, and... Well, if you have a drunk mother, you can write the rest.
Now my parents are ages 92 and 94, half mad from dementia and wet brain from 70 years of drinking, alone because they have outlived all their friends or driven them away - and I want to lift the lid off the boiling cauldron that was my childhood and life.
Do you know what this picture is? If you answered "sassafrass leaves" you get a gold star! Why are they important? Because when I was 8, my mother - who was incredibly wealthy but looked and lived like a bag lady - took a liking to Stalking the Wild Asparagus, by Euell Gibbons. She decided to "live off the land" even though she had no clue what she was doing. She had no knowledge of camping, wildlife, or even house plants for that matter (strictly forbidden). But she would rip the giant, tough leaves off sassafrass trees and give them to me to eat, probably having read somewhere about sassafrass tea.
The leaves were thick and fuzzy. They were awful. Looking back, I can't imagine why anyone in their right mind would even think of chewing on them. Best of all, I found out later that they are poisonous.
A drunken mother is a menace, but the children never let on. Did your mother ever poison you with anything? Tylenol that was 6 years out of date? Spoiled milk or hot dogs? Accidental overdoses of penicillin or cough medicine? Please let me hear your experiences in the comments. (I hope they are working correctly!)
10/30/2013
Checking to see if comments are enabled. It's a little counter-intuitive that you have to click "no comments" to make a comment!
ReplyDeleteSome people have had problems using their Google ID. I think it might help to hit "publish" before you even write anything. It's a little wonky but it will work if you persist. And I hope you do.
Deletei think it's very bold and brave of you to write this blog and i look forward to reading more about your horrible, evil, drunk mother.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Eve! As a fellow writer, you know the feeling. I realized that being a writer is not just what I DO, it's who I AM. I'm really looking forward to writing about these things! Please stick around - and join in!
DeleteI liked your article, it is very true and an eye opener for most. It was not until I was gone for 20 years, did my sister and I piece together our childhood. We believe our mother has Munchhausen by Proxy. She was also an alcoholic. I was always very sick, from the time I came home from the hospital after I was born,ill the day I left after high school graduation. I often wondered how I could possibly take care of myself when I was always sick, a lot of the times hospitalized. I've never been sick since I moved away. I've tried to track down medical records, but no one can produce them. My sister and I have gone over several things that might have produced the illness, (in between 1955 and 1973), but no luck.
ReplyDeleteThe onset of the illness usually centered around family holidays and outings, suggesting that she was a good mother for caring for such a sick child. All the other times, she was as you described your mother, mean and drunk. I have over the past 20 years attempted to confront her, did not work out. My solution now is distance, I live over an hour away. I do not call, and see her maybe once a year, Christmas, but I do not believe that will even happen this year. It took me a long time to resolve my feelings. After being a mother myself, became bitter that I never had a mother. I've realized that giving birth does not make you a mother. Today...I've accepted that. I have 3 wonderful children, 7 grandchildren and many others who call me Mom or Grandma. My husband and I have been foster parents for 32 years. It is very gratifying and helps heal the wounds of something I missed. While there is much drama in her life, I choose now not to be a part of it. She may never realize this, but I am happy, that's all that matters.
Good luck with your writing, and thank you for sharing your history.
Kathy jblohm3@comcast.net
Kathy thank you so much for sharing your story! I am so sorry for what your mother did to you. She undermined your sense of independence, but look what happened - you went far, far away and thrived! I am so happy to hear things are better now. And yes, one of my topics is going to be what happens when you have kids of your own. Please stick around! Thank you for stopping by.
DeleteWe all have stories which shaped us in good and bad ways. I could write a book about my parents and my childhood, but my coping mechanism has been to block out as much as I could and promised myself that I would never parent the way they did. And thankfully all went well in my immediate family. I would write more but after my surgery, I can't be on the computer too long. Good luck Nel with this "chapter" of your life. We all need to get it out sometime.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Shelley! I know you have stories, but I've never heard you complain - just say that you kept your distance (see note above!). Maybe if I go first you will share a little bit. I would love to hear about your childhood. In the meantime - don't skimp on the painkillers and get well soon!
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