The More Things Change
Last Thursday, mom got totally trashed and had it out with Tim.
Nothing new.
This happens once every few months when the isolation of being miserable alone gets to be too much and she decides to just have at anyone that happens by, although Tim is a pretty common target next to ranting about dad and to a lesser extent me. The last time I was the target of a direct drunken verbal assault I was living there, actually.
It wouldn't be so bad if there wasn't this constant fear that she'll just drink herself to death during one of these episodes--she never has, but she was self destructive in the past and that hasn't changed, not really. She's just imploding slower and with greater violence each time.
Thursday was the first time Tim had cried in years. I cried just listening to his end of the argument on the phone.
I know people who live with stuff like this up at school and it kind of makes me sick how desensitized they are--I can't imagine ever getting used to how mom is really, because there's this part of me that equates 'getting used to' as 'not caring' even though I know that's not really true.
But to an extent, it is.
It's even worse when it comes out of nowhere after things had been going arguably well for quite a while. Well in the sense that she was still one of those mythically 'functioning' alcoholics and was still getting up and going to work every day and able to do her job without getting killed or maimed, which there's a pretty high risk of.
I'm waiting for the call though, one of these days. Every year it becomes more and more of a reality....and if I were braver, I'd call 911 and report her as a danger to herself, at the very least. Because her union will pay her to get help. And she hasn't fucked up on the job yet so I doubt they'd fire her just for requesting that service.
Because honestly, I'd rather have her hate me forever but getting help than hating me sometimes and continuing to kill herself like this.
Nothing new.
This happens once every few months when the isolation of being miserable alone gets to be too much and she decides to just have at anyone that happens by, although Tim is a pretty common target next to ranting about dad and to a lesser extent me. The last time I was the target of a direct drunken verbal assault I was living there, actually.
It wouldn't be so bad if there wasn't this constant fear that she'll just drink herself to death during one of these episodes--she never has, but she was self destructive in the past and that hasn't changed, not really. She's just imploding slower and with greater violence each time.
Thursday was the first time Tim had cried in years. I cried just listening to his end of the argument on the phone.
I know people who live with stuff like this up at school and it kind of makes me sick how desensitized they are--I can't imagine ever getting used to how mom is really, because there's this part of me that equates 'getting used to' as 'not caring' even though I know that's not really true.
But to an extent, it is.
It's even worse when it comes out of nowhere after things had been going arguably well for quite a while. Well in the sense that she was still one of those mythically 'functioning' alcoholics and was still getting up and going to work every day and able to do her job without getting killed or maimed, which there's a pretty high risk of.
I'm waiting for the call though, one of these days. Every year it becomes more and more of a reality....and if I were braver, I'd call 911 and report her as a danger to herself, at the very least. Because her union will pay her to get help. And she hasn't fucked up on the job yet so I doubt they'd fire her just for requesting that service.
Because honestly, I'd rather have her hate me forever but getting help than hating me sometimes and continuing to kill herself like this.