I had this naive notion that I could protect my children from my parents' alcoholism. That due to the fact that *I* was determined to show them with my own actions and life choices that drinking like my parents do is not normal or healthy or the way that all, or even a majority of people, live their lives, that they would be safe from the hurt and pain inflicted upon me by my parents alcoholism. That my parents could be a part of my children's lives and somehow I would use their sickness as a way for my children to learn from a distance...my children would not have to live through what I did in order to learn the lessons; I could teach them by viewing it from afar.
I had this plan that I would simply tell my children that Nana and Papa (him, especially) have a disease, a sickness they couldn't control, and that drinking like that was not a healthy or happy way to live. And that somehow, some way, those words would make them understand and would protect them.
HA...yeah...good plan.
Last night I was telling L that I was going to call Papa B and Gramma C (W's father and his wife) and see if he could stay with them on Saturday night while mama worked. He immediately started whining that he didn't want to go there, he wants to "Go Nana's house...and Papa be der too!" (my parents).
In that instant, at TWO years old, L blew my plan wide open and exposed it for the weak little wanna be protection from the storm that it was trying to be.
"No, you can't go to Nana and Papa's, we're going to see if you can go to Papa B's and Gramma C's house"
"Noooo - wanna see Nana an Papa, and Jack be der too!"
How could I have thought there would be no pain in it for him? How could I have thought that saying the words "No you can't_____with Papa because Papa is sick" would magically make him understand my reasoning and squelch his desires to spend time fishing or hunting or hanging out with his Papa that he loves?
Last night, I was able to brush it under the rug and just move on. I just stopped the conversation, and when Saturday comes and we drop L off at his other Papa and Gramma's house, he will be happy and he will forget that he wanted to be at Nana and Papa's instead. But what happens when he is 4 or 5 or 8 and he won't take no for an answer? When he wants to know why he can NEVER do x,y or z with Papa K? When he wants to know why he always stays at Papa B and Gramma C's, but never with Nana and Papa? What then? Could I seriously have thought that saying those weak little words "Papa is sick" would somehow leave him understanding what my 30+ years of life, and being bombarded by and living through all the ugly faces of alcoholism has taught me? How will there not be pain for him when he wonders why Papa can't just love him enough to NOT drink? Did I think he would not wonder that same thing that I myself have wondered a million times over?
I truly believe that I am here in this life and that I chose these parents because *I* will be the one who breaks the chain, the one who chooses the other path. But how could I have thought that there would be no pain for my children? There is no escaping the pain when you are on the path of leaving your family's legacy of alcoholism behind...and regardless of the shortsightedness of my previous thinking that the pain would end with me; that *I* was the end of that legacy, it is obvious that my children are REALLY going to have to be the end. Hopefully my choices, which were shaped through my own pain, along with my children's choices learned through their own different, but equal pain, can allow my grandchildren to be the ones who won't have to learn the lessons through pain. They hopefully can learn to live healthy, productive lives simply because that is the ONLY thing that they know and see in their immediate family.
And although that thought brings me hope and joy, it does not ease the sorrow I feel for my own children. It does not answer the question of 'what's my plan NOW?' How am I going to help ease their pain? I'm tired. Tired of the alcoholism. Tired of thinking about it and seeing it and figuring out how to live through it. Tired of feeling guilty and disappointed and embarrassed and sad and mad because of it. I would so much like to brush it under the rug, but I keep tripping on the bump it creates. I cannot even look at my father these days, which makes me feel so sad and guilty and angry. I see in his eyes that he knows; he knows that I can hardly stand to look at him, and he knows why, and it hurts him SO BAD...I can see all that in his eyes, and it makes me SO FUCKING angry at him for knowing it and allowing me to feel so guilty because I cannot muster the strength to say it all out loud.
I only wanted to spare my children this pain...this unfair, unrelenting pain caused by the actions of our loved ones which we have no control over. This realization of my flawed plan has dampened my heart...
So Very Many Mixed Emotions
20 hours ago
4 comments:
This is probably one of those conversations we need to have in person. One of those long, gut-wrenching conversations we have not had in a looong time.
We really need to plan something...
As a recovering alcoholic/counselor etc I know your pain. My only advice being so far away in blogger land is to fins an al-anon group or maybe a local church has some type of support group available. Contact me if you need.
The last time I visited my Mom's closest sister, I heard her telling my Mom how glad she was that their father broke that cycle for them. He was one of several boys, most of whom have struggled with alcoholism, and my Mom has told us how her grandfather beat their grandmother viciously on many occasions. She died early as the result of an injury she received from him while she was pregnant. He kicked her in the leg hard enough to leave permanent damage, and she developed cancer there later on. Ironically, he remarried a woman who was as brutal as he had been, and who my mother hated as a child for the way she treated my Mom's grandfather. (I don't think she ever got to know her real grandmother.) She said she remembers sitting on the porch with him once when she was still quite young, rocking back and forth, and he seemed very unhappy. After a long silence he said, "I wasn't good to Brookie, Jeannie. I didn't treat her right."
My grandfather, his son, is one of the best men in the world, in my opinion. I love him dearly and like my aunt, I am so thankful that he broke that cycle for his own family. They were dirt poor and it would have been so easy for him to retreat into the bottle when things didn't go well. But instead he chose to love his family and have faith in God.
I'm sorry your son is going to be disappointed. But telling him they have a sickness isn't going to matter. A sickness is something you empathize with. Addiction is different. It may have the same effect on you, but the people around you cannot afford to treat it the same way they would a disease. Kudos to you for trying to break that cycle for him.
Thanks for your response, Freedom...This line really struck me
((A sickness is something you empathize with. Addiction is different. It may have the same effect on you, but the people around you cannot afford to treat it the same way they would a disease.))
and definitely is initiating a different line of thinking for me, and hopefully some additional clarity. So thank you.
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