Category: Writers Block
To anyone who's ever had to experience anything remotely similar, and to my dear old Dad.
"Ah damn," I sighed. "Will I ever get this stupid thing done?" I was sitting at my computer, desperately trying to think of something to start writing for my research report. OK, so I had already done the introduction paragraph, but I sure wasn't going to get by with just one paragraph.
I chose to write about adolescents and alcohol abuse, but I'm beginning to wonder if maybe I should have picked something else. I originally had wanted to do my report on alcoholism, but Mrs. Briley (my English teacher) said I had to narrow that topic down because it was too broad. So I'm stuck with what I have now. Too late to change it.
I sighed again. I reread through an article from the APS Observer and reluctantly began to type out a few sentences. Something about the limbic system and experiments on adolescent rats.
I heard a commotion out in the living room. I stopped typing and listened. The IM sound went off because someone messaged me on MSN Messenger. I took off my headphones and placed them on the desk.
I went out to the living room, my heart pounding. My brother Junior was crying. From what I could tell Dad had hit him pretty hard.
Now, he was saying to Junior, his words slurred, "I love you, boy.
Junior answered shakily, "No, you don't. Why did you hit me?"
Dad answered, "Because I love you. I'll hit you if I want to. I'm your father."
"You should hug me instead," Junior said. He stood up and put his arms around my dad. "Like this," he added.
Dad tried to push him away. "No, boy," he said drunkenly. "I'll hit you. No ... no ..."
Junior persisted. He didn't let go for a good few minutes. Dad eventually calmed down.
"Come on, Dad," Junior said quietly. "Let's go to sleep." He started helping my Dad into one of the twin beds.
"Gotta use the bathroom," Dad said sluggishly. Junior put an arm around him and they proceeded to make their way to the bathroom in my parents' bedroom. Dad was so drunk he couldn't stand on his own. I could hear him staggering, and it tore at my heart. My sister Kathy stood at my side, and I put my arms around her, trying to hold back the burning tears that threatened to overflow and trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
They stopped in the kitchen. Dad started trying to trip Junior, to make him fall.
"Stop," Junior said firmly. "Come on." He tried futilely to keep moving toward the master bedroom. Dad continued.
"Stop it!" Junior said, a bit louder. He kept Dad at arm's length, careful not to get too close. "Let's go to the bathroom."
Mom and Kathy looked on helplessly. I put my head in my hands. A few hot tears escaped my closed eyelids, but I didn't bother wiping them away. They slowly coursed down my cheeks and splashed onto the front of my shirt. By then, I had sat down in one of the straight, hard-backed chairs in the kitchen. I sat motionless, trying not to feel, trying to will it all away.
Junior gave up and took Dad back to the living room. Dad started babbling crazily, saying things that didn't make the slightest bit of sense, and laughing at things only he thought were funny. He looked around at all of us, trying to focus his bloodshot eyes.
"What do they want?" he said to Junior, glaring at Mom, Kathy and me.
Junior replied tonelessly, "They just wanted to make sure you didn't hurt me."
Dad laughed (I had never heard a more heartbreaking sound) and slapped Junior on the shoulder. I could hear his heavy hand sort of THUMP, THUMP, THUMP against Junior's shoulder.
My brother said steadily, "Let's go to bed, Dad."
I got up and headed to my room. I flung myself on my bed and was quiet for a while. I reached for my cell phone and started dialing my boyfriend Jesse's number.
"Hello?" he said groggily.
"Did I wake you up?" I said, my heart sinking. I was in the mood to talk to someone who was going to listen, not doze off.
"Yeah, but it's OK," he answered, clearing his throat.
"I'm sorry," I said. My voice quavered on the last syllable.
"There's nothing to be sorry about," he said. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said in a small voice. "Nothing's wrong. Nothing new, anyway."
"Tell me," he insisted. "What's up? What happened?"
I took a deep breath and tried to force out what had just happened.
"He's always getting drunk!" I sobbed, unable to control the tears any longer. They flowed freely down my face. I shook violently, trying to get a hold of myself again.
Jesse didn't say anything. He let me cry. I managed to stop long enough to say, "I'm sorry. You don't want to hear about this." I made a helpless gesture with my hand.
"That's what I'm here for," he said softly. "That's why I'm your other half."
I gave a faint smile and tried to collect my thoughts. I tried again.
"When will it--was I choked. I cleared my throat. "When will it ever end!" It wasn't a question; it was a desperate plea. I broke down again, and this time, I cried myself dry.
"Oh, baby," Jesse said gently. "I wish there was more I could do for you. You shouldn't have to live with that. You guys shouldn't have to put up with that. You should get help."
I said angrily, "Fuck that! That's what everyone always says. I've gotten used to not having help, and I've gotten used to living like this!" I took a shaky breath and continued. "Sometimes I wonder how anyone could have it so easy. Why did we end up with this? How exactly did we deserve anything like this?"
Jesse replied awkwardly, "Nobody deserves that. I'm sorry I can't say much you haven't already heard. But babe, if you can't find anywhere else to go when you decide to move out, I'm here. I'll have my own place by then, and I wouldn't mind having you with me."
I waved his offer aside. "I know. I know all that. But how am I going to deal with it for the time being?"
"I don't know what to tell you," he said helplessly. "I really don't know what to say."
I wish Amelia was home, I thought to myself. She'd make me feel better. I had called Jesse hoping to get some sort of comfort, hoping to ... I don't know what I expected to get, but I was disappointed. Of course, I didn't tell him that because it wasn't his fault.
I simply said, "I'm gonna get off. I'll talk to you later maybe."
"OK," he said cautiously. "I love you."
"I love you, too," I said impatiently.
"Bye," he said. I hit the END button and sighed.
I managed to push it all to the back of my mind by writing another paragraph for my report and chatting with people online. How easy it was to forget about reality for a while.
I went to bed later that night, physically and emotionally drained. I fell asleep the instant my head hit the pillow. I had a few blissful hours of dreamless sleep before I had to wake up and live through another depressing day ...
Thanks, Mel. *SMILE*
Allie that was incredible.. anything I say will sound inadequate so I'll spare you...smile
In reference to your ridiculous post in what would you put up with, I take back my praise it sounds empty now.If there is one thing I can't stand its hypocrisy, I suppose you will now condone violence against children hmm
I'm sorry there was a misunderstanding, Alex. I will not put up with people beating me, and I will not expect others to put up with me beating them. That is all I meant by my other post. I think it would be really nice if you could reread it through for me. *SMILE* I would hate to lose your respect as a friend.
--Allie
umm I never know what to say so eh... I'm just gonna hug you. (((hug)))
Thanks, Feathery Heathery ... Hugs back.
You already have!. I have 15 years experience in watching someone very close to me, suffer the effects of consistant physical violence,and I cannot believe that after writing this, you can condone men hitting women or vice versa it is unforgivable
Wow that was awesome Allie! Huggles! If you ever need to talk, I'm here, too; I know you hardly know me but yeah. And Goblin, i think there was a misunderstanding, if you read what she said above. What you're saying she said, and whats she's saying don't seem to coincide.
Good jobAllie!
Caitlin
Read the post by Sugarbaby What would you put up with on page 2 and you will understand...
I do not condone it. I'm not a violent person at all. But if someone hits me, I reserve the right to defend myself. If I hit someone, I don't expect them to sit there and let me beat them up, either. Anyway, hope you're having a good day, Goblin. *SMILE*
--Allie
solving violence with violence no wonder the human race is racing towards destruction...
Wow, who'd a thought I would post something so personal in here?
Allie, you just wrote the best report on "adolescents and alcohol abuse" I've ever read. Thanks for sharing that with us, it's a real awakener. As a father, I was not an alcoholic, but I did get drunk occasionally, and now see my ridiculous appearance from a different perspective. BTW, I never hit my kids when I was drunk, so I guess I'm not too bad, just a little guilty.
Thanks for showing us the kids side of the problem.
Bob
*SMILE* That wasn't the story I turned in to my eleventh grade English teacher, but the report I did hannd in got a pretty good score. Research was good and all, but I think having been through something like that gave me a little more insight and helped me come up with the best report possible. Anyway, glad to hear you didn't beat your kids when you were drunk. And thanks for your comment! *SMILE*
-- Allie