Ever since an early age, the best times I have had with my mother is when she has been sober. When she is sober, she is the light. She is happy, caring, fun, empathetic, and helpful in every way. She wants to be there with me. She loves hard. When she is not sober, she isolates herself. She is the dark. She is bitter, angry, resentful and full of hate.
Due to her addiction, my mother has developed two different personalities. As a child, I grew up with both of these people; the good and the ugly. It is like living with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Dr. Jekyll being her “sober side” while Mr. Hyde is her “drunk side” influenced by her actions from her active addiction. The Dr. Jekyll side made sure I had everything I needed from clothes and supplies. She was always there to listen and I counted on her for my emotional needs when she was sober. When she displayed the side of Mr. Hyde, I cringed and hid from her. Trust went out the window as there were periods of chaos, verbal abuse, confusion and heightened states. She would spill all of the things she struggled with including her relationship with my father. She was negative and mean. Numerous times she drove when her blood alcohol content was past the legal limit. Now a days she is pretty much the same. I can tolerate her when she is sober and I take those times to heart. When she has been drinking, I can hear it in her voice. Her voice is slow, speech is slurred and her attitude is dark. Although, we have better days and she is not at her lowest, she continues to drink. Because of her I continue to wear the shield of armor that I have learned to protect myself with.
As an adult with my own family, I invited her to live with me for a few months after receiving detox treatment and in those months, I appreciated her presence as much as I hated it. When she was sober, she helped me with my children. She cherished the time she spent with them. She was upbeat and happy. She would make breakfast and loved spending time with me and my kids. It hurt me to know that she struggled internally. I saw her struggle with her feelings as divorce was taking place in her life and she was losing everything she had worked at (Although she had not kept a job in over 2 years due to addiction). I knew being sober was not going to last therefore I trusted my intuition when it told me “Enjoy it while it lasts”. And I did. I savored the good moments with my mother knowing that she was craving the alcohol and it was only a matter of time. This was nothing new to me. I had experienced the physiological reaction called the fight or flight response for years and although I had not had to experience it in a while, it still tore me apart inside.
She had found some way to ingest the very thing that poisoned her and our relationship. It felt like a roller coaster ride. I would come home from work and I could tell by the look on her face and the sound of her voice that she had been drinking. Her eyes would be blood-shot, her face would droop, her speech would slur, and she would be stumbling with unsteadiness. The atmosphere would become sad, and dark. I can remember a certain night where I did not say a word to her, but I knew. My mother tried to keep herself busy by cooking dinner in the kitchen. She really believed she was concealing her disease. She ignored my feelings as tears ran down my face. I felt angry, betrayed, and so disappointed. My mother was so numb that she would see that I was crying and ask, “What is your problem?” but not with a sincere tone, with a tone that was ice cold, numb, with no emotion.
I was relieved when she moved out. It gave me a sense of relief. My stress and anxiety levels have decreased immensely, but I continue to worry about her. In her fits of rage and anger, she calls to vent. She has no one else to talk to and so I silently cry on the other end and sometimes even hold the phone away because she repeated herself over and over again. It is easy to refer to these situations as tornado warnings in which I need to prepare for. I build up a wall and board up all the windows. I cover myself with a blanket and put on headphones so I can focus on something else, and hold up my armored shield. Each time, I concentrate on deep breathing so I do not spiral out of control with a panic attack waiting for the storm to end just to re-open the windows knowing I will have to do it all over again soon.
I hope my mother stops drinking for herself one day. I know abstinence from drinking is not in her future and I do not think it will ever be. Call it what you want, but I do not allow myself to carry 100% hope with me and pretend that things will change. For me, it's better to expect the worse than hope for the best in this situation. I have fallen hard many times and have gotten hurt. Alcoholism is a progressive disease and it only gets worse. Addiction has flourished within my family for many years and that is why my own family environment is sober and quiet. Less chaos makes my heart happy. There is no name-calling, screaming, blaming, trust issues, or verbal abuse, going on in my house due to addiction and my life goal is to keep it that way.
I am not perfect. I continue to struggle mentally with my mothers’ addiction. I foresee it to be a never-ending issue as long as she lives. It affects me so much that I have had the disturbing realization that I mourn for my mother who is still very much alive. The only way I get through my struggles is through taking care of myself first, setting boundaries, becoming educated on addiction, and raising my awareness of it. It has taken me a very long time to realize that without boundaries, I could end up just as sick as her. I know I only have control over my own life and I am not responsible for my mother’s health. Accepting my mother for who she is now by having and showing compassion, has helped me love my addicted mother. In addition, I hold her close on the days I am able to hold a conversation with my sober mother. Those are the days that warm my heart and in that moment, I love our conversations.
So, how do I grieve the loss of a parent who is in active addiction? At the end of the day, I am human and my feelings are normal and expected. I have learned that it is okay to feel angry, and sad, but the healthy aspect of it all is to pull those feeling out whether it’s through venting, writing, listening to music, but most of all coming to peace with the reality of loving an addict is hard as hell. I have learned that it is not about betrayal, it’s about my mother’s pain and the way she deals with it. It’s about her coping skills and how she struggles to maintain relationships. It’s about what this disease has turned her into the last 35 years. Creating boundaries and adapting to whatever is left of the relationships is necessary, as it is vital to your own survival, even if that means ending the relationship completely. I am thankful to have the good memories with her and I know she did the best she could with us kids. If anything, I have learned a lot about boundaries, self-love, and myself and to love my mother for who she is today.