Demon drink – a daughters perspective

Todays blog entry was inspired by this post at HERevolution.

Hi. My name is Shereen, and I am the daughter of an alcoholic. Or was. At least, I think I was. Oh, it is so hard to be sure.

I guess it seems pretty conclusive. when someone dies from Alcoholic Liver Disease then I guess the assumption can be made that that person was in fact an alcoholic. But the label ‘alcoholic’ does not seem to fit, and I feel it does a disservice to my mum’s memory.

I do remember alcohol being a significant part of my childhood, with my parents sharing quiet conversations over beer or wine at the end of each day. I did not realise that my parents drinking habit was not healthy, as they did not get drunk, were never messy drinkers, did not drink heavy liquor… I can count on one hand the amount of times I actually considered them to be ‘drunk’.

My parents led a fairly stressful lifestyle, working long hours putting their heart and souls into running their various small businesses to give my sister and I a good start in life and set up early retirement for themselves. I guess somewhere along the way their drinking became a bit of a crutch- they did not drink to get drunk the way you would expect of true alcoholics, they drank to relax, to be able to sleep, to switch off their minds and find peace at the end of each day.

I think the problem with utilising alcohol as a means to relax and dull the edges of stress, is that it is a convenient fallback when times get really tough. After mum suffered a haemorrhagic stroke she hit a deep depression, and she continued to drink on an already compromised liver, and before long she had irreparable liver damage.

There is an underlying sense of shame associated with alcoholism as a disease, and as the daughter of an alcoholic it is hard for me to accept that we couldn’t help her out of her pain, that we were not enough for her to want to live in sobriety, why she couldn’t JUST STOP. It is hard to grieve for someone who has died when you feel ANGRY that they did this to themselves, to their grandchildren, to us. To accept that she is gone and but for that demon drink she would still be here.

I hear people say ‘I know I should drink less, but hey, I would rather live a good life and die early, than sit in the corner being bored and live to a hundred!” and I just want to shake them, shake them until their eyeballs rattle, because I have watched someone I love die from alcohol abuse, and let me tell you, she was not living the good life. When a liver slowly dies it affects everything that makes you who you are, physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically. It is not one non-stop party, put it that way.

After seeing what has happened to mum, and how the lure of the drink can take hold, I myself do not drink at all. I am scared of alcohol now. It is surprising how my non-drinker stance seems to threaten people. People are incredulous, they ask me ‘Are you sure?’, reassure me that ‘one won’t hurt you know!‘ they offer me non alcoholic substitutes, soft drinks in wine glasses to make me feel ‘a bit more special, part of the crowd’ . And I am asked ‘WHY?’

You can imagine how my honest response would go down in a party type situation.

So I lie. I just say I don’t really like to drink. But the real reason is I am scared, because my mum was a normal, loving mum like me and she died. If it can happen to her, maybe it could happen to me too?