My Alcoholism

The type of alcoholic I am is a person who does not have to drink or crave drink, in a certain time period; but, An alcoholic that once they start drinking can not stop until I run out of alcohol, pass out or blackout!

I started drinking when I was a child, not sure how young, as my memory sucks; but, I'm pretty sure it was very young because it was before we moved from the "old house" { a put together place making 2 bedrooms from sheds added onto a "cabin"} to the "new house" { a house brought out to the farm by my parents that had 3 bedrooms} which occurred when I was 7 or 8. My alcohol consumption as a young child consisted of sneaking drinks from the grown ups any time there was a get together or party.

The first time I remember getting totally bombed I was probably 9 or 10. My uncle caught me sneaking drinks and took me into his camper where he gave me a bottle of Baby Duck wine; which I proceeded to drink all on my own. I had almost finished it when my mother found me and was very drunk. She forced me to eat soup, which I threw up, and then I passed out! From that event on, I kept drinking whatever I could get my hand on, whenever I could, until I would pass out. I never actually bought alcohol until I was a teenager and could either "chip in" to buy it or buy it from others. I had realized by then that I did have a "problem" with drinking because I knew my parents were alcoholics.(see older blog)

I stopped all drinking when I was 16, for almost 3 years. Then I joined the Canadian military. On my 19th birthday I experienced my first blackout (at least the first one I can recall) when I drank a mixture of alcoholic drinks throughout the evening and night until someone returned me to the base. Sure, I remembered bits and pieces but to this day I have no idea how much I actually drank or who took me "home". It did not stop me from drinking but did slow me down for a few months. Then I had my second blackout! I do know I had sex with someone during that blackout but do not know who and neither do I remember how I got back to my barracks. Only one month later, I had my third blackout! I lost all knowledge of what happened that night and it did scare the crap out of me! Enough to make me limit my drinking to 2, which I found out I could, for years!

I discovered through limits imposed by accessibility that I can have 2 drinks and quit, if it is hard liquor, but I can not have any beer and quit. Anything over 2 drinks or any beer or wine and I will continue to drink until I pass out! When I am drunk I know I do and say things which I would absolutely not when sober. Therefor, I do try not to drink; but, due to anxiety and a desire to socialize, even though I'm not sure how to, I often find myself drinking when others around me are. I don't usually drink when I am alone and have only done so a few times recently because the alcohol is there and I just crave the temporary calm or numbness it can bring.

Anyways, that's pretty much my alcoholism summed up in as few words as I can.

Is It All Past?

Many people tell me the abuse is in the past and to just forget it and move on. But, Is it all past?
Here's my thoughts:

When I was 12, my mother left my father and took my younger brother and me with her. At that time I made a decision to forget everything from my past and blacked out all of it in my mind. I never started to remember all the abuse, except for the abuse I saw my mother go through, until I started to have children of my own. Every time I think I have remembered and dealt with everything, I discover something else that I blacked out. This opens old scars like they were fresh wounds.

An example of this is when I started to regain my memories of the sexual abuse and saw signs of it in my children, I simply thought that it was my mind showing me signs that were not there. I was very mistake! Yes, my daughters did suffer through sexual abuse, which was only uncovered by a child welfare worker and not me.

I learned many years ago that incidents that happen in our lives affect many decisions we make and how we interact with others. Even remembering and "dealing" with those memories sometimes does not change who we are inside and how we react. Thus, forgetting them is not an option for me anymore! As for "moving on", I only wish it was as easy as everyone seems to think it is. Unfortunately, for myself it isn't.

Yes, it all happened in the past and I am very thankful that it is no longer occurring in my life; but, remembering can make it seem like it happened yesterday! I still look forward to a day when there are no more "new" memories to pop up.

Bullying Is Abuse!

Though I was rarely ever bullied physically, I have been bullied through words and intimidation.
A bully doesn't have to shove, hit or physically touch a person to make them feel afraid and like crap. There are many bullies who know how to cut with words and actions. Too many.

I remember in school, the teasing and segregation by others hurt me deep in my heart. There were those kids you just knew would have no problem pounding on you. Often they would just flex a fist or move quickly toward you and you would flinch. This seemed to give them great pleasure and validate their own self image.
Then there were those who really did want to attack me physically. I was lucky because I had a brother who had no problem standing up for me and getting in many fights. In fact, that is how he often made friends. I tried not to rely on his protection, preferring to avoid these bullies by staying indoors or hanging around a teacher. I think I spent more time in school bathrooms than I did on the playgrounds.

Unfortunately, the bullying in my life did not stop with school. I had a "boyfriend" who was constantly backing me into corners, threatening me and eventually even lifted me off my feet and pinned me to a wall. I was only 13 or 14 at the time. I put up with it until the incident with the wall. Then it was over.
There were always others around who could threaten me or make me flinch. I felt like I had a sign on my forehead that said "victim -easy target".
Then I got marred at 19. My husband was a wonderful person who accepted me as I was. That lasted until I had my first child. From then on he became a different person when no one else was around. He would put me down about everything all day long and still expect me to have sex with him at night. He would back me into corners when angry and even pushed me and picked me up and threw me a few times. I put up with all of it, even his infidelity did not make me want to end things. The first time I left him was because he left no money in the account, no food in the house and no bills paid - at the time I had 3 baby girls and another on the way. Unfortunately, I let him back into our lives. The "abuse" continued and gradually got more frequent and more frightening for me. It was only when he started constantly yelling at the children and pushing them, that I started to consider leaving. The final straw was one of my daughters starting to show signs of sexual abuse and a camping trip that was a nightmare of verbal abuse for my daughters and me.
After my marriage ended I sought therapy in many forms.Groups, individual counseling, places where there were other women like me. I thought that the bullying was done in my life, that I would never put up with someone putting me down or attacking me verbally again. Boy was I wrong.
Many times I have had others gossip about me, call me names and try to segregate me. Every time this has happened I have allowed it to affect my self esteem. I have wound up depressed, feeling alone and feeling like a POS. I know that is what the people who use bullying want but I find it hard not to let these things get to me. It is always harder when I am fighting a particularly bad episode of depression.
Those of you who read this and know about what happened to me on a certain social network may understand that I am still struggling with some of it. Still hurting. But I am no longer depressed - got my medication adjusted and feel somewhat better about life. That doesn't make anything easier to accept but it does keep me from completely shutting down.

I guess there will always be those who will feel better about themselves by putting others down. There will always be bullies. I just need to develop a thicker skin and learn that I am worth more than those type of people will ever know. That God has a purpose for bullies even if I don't understand it or recognize it all the time.
It's a good thing I am a believer and know that God loves me and thinks I'm worth it even if no one else ever does. Leaves me wondering how a non-believer can take all the crap in this world?

I accept others for who they are and try my hardest not to run them down. However, I have been guilty recently of being just like those people I consider "bullies", I have been nasty. I do regret it and have confessed it. Time to keep moving on.

Why I Am "Stuck" In The Past

I am always going over my past. Remembering a little at a time. Evaluating what I remember and trying to see how it affects me today. My reasons for doing this are plenty. The most important being, I do not remember all my past. I have tried many times to access those memories from my childhood which I blacked out but all I get is glimpses. Most of those glimpses are about crap I went through. However, a few are happy memories.

The harder I try to remember the harder it is to accept that the memories will only come in their own time. Unfortunately, it is often at the most inopportune times and causes the emotional roller coaster to go out of control. The fact is, sometimes the emotions that come boiling out at other people have very little to do with what they have said or done but are over-reactions based on a triggered memory. That is when I have to sit back and think "Where is this coming from?" For the only way to change those reactions is to face what is causing them and allow myself to write it out. It is through writing the crap out I am able to release the past, change myself and grow. And boy do I want to grow!

For most of my life I reacted and did not care why or desire to change. However, since having a stroke and coming face to face with the fact that I could die any day, I decided I want to stop pretending to be what other people wanted and liked and learn who I was. Just want to be me and be the best possible me I can before I go. If that means dredging up the past to change then that is what I must do, for myself!

I hear people say all the time "Just let it go and forget" but I did that most of my life and it did not work then. I still over reacted. I still suffered anxiety. I still had so many fears and no ideas where they came from. Most of all I did not change anything. I just pretended. I won't pretend any more for anyone! Especially to protect the ones who did the crap to me or put me through crap.
I love my family dearly but it is time for the secrets to be faced.

I Thought My Childhood Was Normal!

I mentioned before that I blacked out a lot of my childhood when my parents separated. I did remember some positive events and most of my school years; but, I remembered them as being totally normal. Even growing up from that date, I don't think I ever thought of my life as being less than normal, until I started having my own children. Just the same thing everyone went through. I never believed in the family lives of books,TV or movie families. As far as I was concerned, they did not exist!
I believed every family struggled to get along. So, when my parents fought and my brothers fought, even when the fights often got physical, I thought it was normal. When my brothers ran away from home, I believed that was normal, I thought that was how every child left home eventually. Name calling was just normal, to me, between parents and children and between siblings. It didn't matter how nasty or how much it was repeated because it was normal, even when not fighting.
I believed that every family had secrets that were never meant to be shared. People did not talk about their parents getting drunk, fighting or their father hitting their mom and that was just how it was. People did not talk about how someone touched you where they weren't suppose to, according to TV and school. It happened but was not something anyone talked about because society did not talk about those things. People did not talk about why they got certain bruises,injuries or missed school due to "illness". It just wasn't something you talked about outside of the family.

I believed every father was emotionally distant and whenever I saw a father that wasn't I assumed that was just public behavior. Father's just did not hug their children, talk with their children or share in their children's lives. They often yelled at, cursed or blamed their children for things. I believed that was the normal behavior of a dad out of the public eye.

I believed every mother had periods where they just could not handle things, where they would be too busy to notice what was going on between their children and where they would sometimes lose it . There were 7 of us kids in the house and often it was noisy, we were too rambunctious/active and mom had to shoo us outside to get anything done.So when she would yell at any of us or break down and go to her room, it was something that was to be expected. My father rarely got involved in parenting because it was the woman's responsibility. That was just the way a normal family operated, in my belief. If mom did not notice us kids occasionally disappeared for a while, hit each other or call each other names; well that was the way, I thought, it was meant to be. If she didn't know that the older ones sometimes got mean when "babysitting", and of course we never told her, nobody ever said it wasn't normal. There were many things that happened between us siblings that were never told to mom because you just didn't bother her with things, you did not upset her for no good reason. I never thought I had a good reason! I wasn't afraid of my mother but I was afraid of hurting her, totally normal right(?).

I believed every one's parents partied and drank! Alcohol was a constant in my young life and I have written about that before. Parties were frequent, at our house, until my mom tried to stop drinking.There always seemed to be a lot of people, many who were parents and that was normal, in my eyes.

I believed if you loved a male you did things they asked. It did not matter what they asked you to do, if it felt uncomfortable or hurt and even if you thought it was wrong. When you loved a male, you did what they wanted or got left out, hurt and ignored. Totally normal or so I believed.

I thought sisters where never meant to get along and understand each others. Even though my sister and I shared a bedroom, actually shared a bed, we rarely played together and fought constantly when we did speak to each other. there is 3 years between us in age. I was more a tomboy and she was, in my eyes a prissy little girl {do not see her that way now}. I never really met many sisters that got along; but, I treated my sister like she did not exist most of the time. Since no one ever tried to force me to get along or spend time with her I figured it was normal.
{I can say this, raising 4 daughters did not change my outlook on this (life did, somewhat) but mostly just showed me that sisters can be friends and close}

I believed every child had dreams that came true. I never really discussed this with anyone,as a child or young adult. I have had these dreams for as long as I can remember. Some are dull, everyday things, some are catastrophes, most are just in between somewhere. Having "nightmares" that came true scared the crap out of me and I never really was able to tell the difference between the ones which would/could come true and the ones that were just nightmares.

I believed my childhood was the same as anyone other child's. Bullying in school, being segregated because of financial background or heredity was normal (common) when I was growing up. That doesn't mean it didn't effect how a child viewed the world. I simply accepted I would never have friends, never be one of the "gang" and always be rejected and ridiculed. For me that was normal! So, I stopped trying to make friends by grade 2. Mostly I just tried to disappear in school. There were a few kids like that.

I believed my family was the same as every one's family. Family stuck together no matter what! You never stopped loving a family member just because they hurt you, used you, lied to you or made you uncomfortable, after all they were family and everybody must love their family! You always forgive family, for everything because no one else will be there for your entire life. No matter how my parent's families treated them they were always ready to be there for them, especially on my mother's side!

The truth is, I have no idea what a normal family is. I have never really spent a lot of time with other people's families. Families that did not behave like mine. I would never have learned that my family was not normal if it was not for a friend reporting me to a principle for begging for pain killers instead of seeing a dentist. That led to a fight with a nurse, an argument with the principle, being expelled and being forced to go to counselling. It was that counsellor who started me and my family on a long journey of discovery. Unfortunately, that only lasted a couple of years for most of us. It is much easier to go back to forgetting and accepting of "dysfunction" then it is to change!

However, I wanted a different childhood, a better one, for my daughters. So, I decided I had to face things and change. In that process I learned that my family was not normal. In fact, although I knew many other children who lived like I did or worse, my family was very dysfunctional. I have not covered everything in this blog and just can not face or share everything, yet.
Although I wanted a normal, loving childhood for my daughters and wanted to protect them from some of the things I went through, I was not successful. But that is another story, one I have already wrote some about but some I will write about later. I still do not know what a normal childhood is.

I do know my family is closer than most peoples, we share a lot with each other and we tend to feel free to discuss things others do not normally discuss. My family, especially my mom, tend to attract others who want to adopt us. This has passed on to my daughters. To me that is just because when we care about others, we really care (too much sometimes) and accept them for who they are, even for any faults, willing to listen and be there for them. We also offer whatever help and comfort we can.

The Festering Secret!

This is probably the hardest blog I have written, so far. It will be about an incident of Sexual abuse that I have rarely shared, one that is barely acknowledged by anyone I know and one that has never been fully faced or discussed ( although I tried). Need to say right off the bat - "I am very afraid of the consequences of writing this". However, it has been a secret kept too long and I need to get it out!

First off, there has been a long history of sexual abuse in my family background. It is not my place to share details of the events that occurred to others. I have written about some events from my childhood before. This particular event happened when I was around 13 years old.

My mother and father were separated and my mother was dating. On this particular night she had gone out drinking. It was quite late when she returned, with a guy. However, I was still awake and decided to wish her good night. So, I knocked on her bedroom door and she said "Come in". Not really thinking I did enter her bedroom. Much to my surprise their was a "man" in bed with her. Quickly, I said "I just wanted to say Good night" and turned to leave. To which my mom replied, "Aren't you going to give me a hug and kiss?" I turned back and looked at her with a questioning expression and she said "It's Okay, No need to be afraid".

If only I had just walked out, things would have wound up much differently. Instead, I went over to the bed, bent down and kissed and hugged my mom. As I went to stand up the "man" reached over, grabbed my arm and said, "What about me, sweetie?" I looked at mom and she just smiled back. I could smell the alcohol on their breathes but he wouldn't let go of my arm, so I bent over a little and he pulled me into the bed.

Now what I remember next is like a bad dream because I sent my mind off to the corner I usually sent it too when things went really wrong. I remember him undressing me and my mom just lying there next to us. I remember him on top of me and the smell of the alcohol being so strong. I remember praying my mom would do something, anything to stop it but she just laid there stroking his back and allowing him to do whatever he wanted. I remember him kissing my mom while having sex with me and me just lying there waiting for it to be over!

When he roiled off of me, I quickly got out of the bed, left the bedroom and went to my room. I don't remember crying, all I remember is feeling so lost and angry at myself!
I remember shortly after this my mom stopped drinking for good. She is still sober!

I still blame myself! After all, I was old enough to know better, strong enough to fight and stupid enough to enter the room in the first place! I have talked with my mom about this. I never get anywhere, I am always left feeling lost and sad. I am not sure if she even "really" remembers it, perhaps she blacked it out! I have never got an honest apology, instead getting only excuses.

It does leave me feeling lost still. The pain is still great and the forgiveness for myself is not there. Mostly, I think it has seriously effected my inner ability to trust anyone.

It took me over a week to finish writing this.


I constantly feel afraid, I don't even know if that is the right word. It's not that I think something will happen, in specific, it's that my heart races, I get short of breath and sometimes I feel trapped. Mostly this happens when I am alone or late at night. I guess anxiety is a better definition.

As far as I remember, nothing traumatic happened to me at night. Of course, I know that being alone allowed many events to occur; but, I know deep in my soul there is no need to fear. I trust God! However, the physical feelings do not abate. I try deep breathing, I try writing, I try rationalizing and I pray but nothing helps.

I do know this:
While I was growing up most of the fights my parents had were at night, while I was suppose to be sleeping and I heard and witnessed many. My father beat my mom during some of these fights. One time breaking her cheek bone.
I have had nightmares both while growing up and even recently. Most never come true but some have.

I battle these feeling whenever I write, whenever I have to leave my house, whenever I talk on the phone and whenever I exchange emails or messages with anyone,. Mostly, I battle them, big time, whenever I interact with males!

Sometimes the feelings overwhelm me to a point where I feel like an observer within my own body! Other times I have resorted to pretending to be someone else to try and avoid the feelings. I like to think of it as segmenting my personality. There are parts of me that are better at handling certain situations and emotions than other parts. {Don't know if this will make sense to anyone}

When the anxiety or fear becomes to great, I often break down crying. Every time that happens I wind up feeling so weak, feeling like a failure! I hear my mom telling me not to cry but to have faith. It doesn't help because I can not change how my body is reacting.

My family does not understand and I can't explain it to them. Every time I try they just keep suggesting prayer and faith or make suggestions that don't help, I have tried. Of course, I don't truly understand it either and that makes it harder to explain, especially to people who have never gone through it.