Secrets – Part Two

Originally posted on April 20, 2018 on Journey Into A.

It’s been a few weeks since my last post (part one) and honestly it’s because that one brought up a few things that rocked me a bit. It was also a post where more people read it from my Facebook page, meaning a lot of family or family friends read it, and seeing those numbers kind of freaked me out. This time, I’m just not going to look. It’s all memories that I’d like to get out of my head for my well-being and I can’t get anxious about those I know reading it.

Moving on, let’s dig up some more.

How about the relapses?

There were a few that I had witnessed. It was quick and rapidly terrifying. Most of the times were at a hotel where there would be a fully stocked mini fridge. Other times, she’d bolt to the local liquor store. Usually prompted by a fight between her and my old stepdad or otherwise it seemed to just happen out of the blue.

You knew before seeing her or smelling her. The energy of the “break” was always palpable. It was a certain kind of energy that I don’t wish to feel ever again. It was a downward shift mixed with shame, guilt, and a crazed excitement (for lack of a better word). It was disgusting and it clung to you and filled your whole body.

Then when you saw her, she was flighty, impulsive, and grasping desperately onto pretending everything was fine. I couldn’t hide my facial expressions so the moment she’d see my face, she always realized I’d known what happened and that I was scared. She then couldn’t hide so then she would try to pick fights with my old stepdad to make it  seem like there were reasons within reality as to why she relapsed.

– This is only with alcohol, by the way. I couldn’t tell you much about the drugs because I wasn’t aware of them until much later. I also am only speaking about the times I was around. –

She’d tear around the room, spinning this wild energy around until I couldn’t breathe. There was nowhere to go and I had no clue what to do. I’d hang on the outskirts of the room and try my hardest to pretend I wasn’t there. I’d watch TV or listen to music. It helped a little, but never enough. When her attention would come to me, I’d pretend I hadn’t been listening or that I didn’t see what she’d just done and she would turn away again and I’d be invisible all over.

Read the last 211 words here.

Secrets – Part One

Originally posted on Journey Into A on March 26, 2018.

I’m not sure how many times I saw my mom pass out drunk. A handful of the times, she just fell to the floor. I was so little, I didn’t understand what was going on, but I knew it wasn’t good. I’d cry and wail.

Luckily, it never happened (as far as I can remember) when I was alone with her. My old stepdad (he was her boyfriend/fiance for the majority of time that he was in our lives, this story mostly contains bits from before they were legally married, but I call him “my old stepdad”) would always be there. He’d pick her up, wake her as best he could, and move her to the bed or couch.

One time that comes flashing back to me is the time where she decided to leave him. Wasn’t the first time. This time, she’d gotten an apartment not too far from our house. My old stepdad and I went to visit her (why I was with him and not her, I’m not sure of) and they got to fighting again. I think now the reason they fought was because she was drunk, but I’m not entirely certain.

Read the last 182 words here.