A Christmas to Remember

Charlie Pride is spinning on the record player, fireplace is crackling, Christmas tree is up with gifts piled underneath, white carpet is raked (yes, raked. lol), crackers and cheese dip are out along with a tray of uncracked walnuts. My dad is telling jokes, laughing, dancing and full of life. This was Christmas many years ago and I loved it so much. The holidays are such a mix of emotions. I would like to think most of us enter the season with hopefulness, positivity, love and a wonderous sense of magic. But then as the weeks pass, it seems the to-do lists, expenses, time crunches, going here-going there all seem to slowly bring about stress, exhaustion and even sadness. If all that were not enough to contend with, the holidays tend to illuminate our grief and heartache for those we no longer get to share the season with.

How can “the most magical time of year”, a time when we should be celebrating the birth of Christ and spending time with loved ones and giving to others, also become the most difficult time of year? Human nature is such a fascinating thing and it is also where we find common ground. I believe this mix of emotions is a reality for most of us and hopefully it ignites a compassion for ourselves and those around us. This year, the holiday season is slightly different for me. I spent so many years hurting for and because of my dad. So many years of trauma. My dad had become my charity of choice at Christmas time. I would purchase care packages to deliver to whatever pathetic living conditions he had found himself in. Often with my youngest brother, we would enter with anxiousness and hesitation and we would leave heartbroken and with disbelief that this was our reality. These moments were such a contradiction to my experiences as a child. All the years I was growing up and he was “healthy”, he was such a giver. He was generous with friends and family, but especially to strangers. At that time, we did not have homeless on the streets in our quaint community holding signs asking for money, but we did have people who would get out and hold up a sign asking for food or work and my dad would often pull over and tell the person to meet him at his office at a certain day and time. If they showed up, they had an opportunity to work and earn money to feed themselves and their family.

He loved giving gifts. I believe this was one of his love languages, though he also shared words of affirmation and was very affectionate. He spoiled me and I loved it! This year it seems the gift I have received is the gift of FINALLY being able to let go of the heartbreaking memories and being able to return my thoughts to happier times with my dad. I can finally smile again when I think of him and most importantly, I FINALLY MISS HIM!!! I have so many memories that make me smile and laugh out loud. He was full of life for so long and I now get to choose to remember that man. It has taken a year and a half of work to help me get to this place. I have an amazing therapist who has helped me to understand alcoholism. Not just the disease, but the person who it has taken. After my dad’s passing, my mom was also a huge support. She showed such grace and love and shared such beautiful words and memories of my dad and reminded me how very much he loved me. All of this, combined with prayer, lots of tears and heartache and a strong desire to move past the pain has helped me land in this beautiful place. I recently found a Christmas card he had sent to me while I was attending school in Italy. I am so happy I held onto these precious gifts.

MERRY CHRISTMAS DAD. I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU…

Letting go with love

As I share my story, I hope readers can see just how much I loved my dad. What I would give to be back in any one of a million moments when he made me laugh with his silly faces, funny jokes or Southern sayings. What I would give to see his beautiful blue eyes look at me once again with such deep love and pride or to hear him playing Charlie Pride on the record player while grilling up burgers. Those moments seem more special now that they are gone. My dad was unique, he was charming and he could deliver a line of BS better than anyone, lol. So many years of hurt, frustration, trauma, anger and sadness often made looking back on the good times impossible. However, now my heart feels the need to look back and grasp onto those precious moments. Getting to this point in my life and in my struggle with my dad has been the absolute hardest thing I’ve done and it comes at a price. You see, the only way I could truly heal was to finally let go. Where I was once consumed by thoughts of my dad daily, I eventually found myself going days and even weeks without thinking of him. And yet, when I did think of him, I wondered how I could pretend he was no longer in my life when he was a living being who must have wondered why I didn’t call or visit. Was I that cold hearted? No, I finally learned that for self preservation, for my own mental health and happiness, the heartbreaking decision to let him go was my only option. It was more than a two year process to get to there, a place where I didn’t have to worry about him, a place where I didn’t fear a call from him or a call from someone else bearing bad news as to his current state. I could breathe, I could rest easy knowing he had the care he needed.

On a trip home last summer, I had to drive by his facility on the way to boating at the lake. As I briefly acknowledged the place, it also struck me in that moment that I had driven by at least two times previously and it NEVER crossed my mind that I was passing by his home and was just feet away from him. I actually celebrated that thought. That I had been able to be in such close proximity and I had finally set myself free to the degree that I could drive by without falling into tears. Making the hard decisions to let go of the ones we love in order to allow ourselves to live in peace and happiness. Acknowledging that we cannot change them, nothing we do will fix them. BUT, we CAN fix ourselves we CAN heal ourselves. When we learn that someone else’s addiction is hurting and disrupting our lives to an unhealthy degree, we must make the hard decisions to take care of ourselves and those we can protect. My entire life, I have worn my heart and my emotions on my sleeve. My heart allows me to love deeply and care for others easily. These sound like good qualities right? However, those who are designed like me know these qualities also leave us open to feeling pain and heartache more deeply. Letting go of those who bring us pain can be extremely difficult for us no matter how much we are hurting. When you love someone, it has been my experience, you will ALWAYS love them. The way that you love them may change, but you will forever hold them in your heart, want only the best for them and care about their well-being. So when is enough, enough? When do you finally reach your breaking point and recognize that their issues are affecting your emotional and physical well-being so negatively that, in order to take care of yourself, you must walk away? How long does it take to realize and accept the things you cannot change? You cannot turn back time, you cannot undo or unsay what they have done and said. You can't wish away all the bad moments. But walking away isn't so easy. How and when did I decide to walk away? Though my dad adored me for the first half of my life, once the disease got its grip deep enough into him, he changed, he became selfish. For many years he had not known much about my personal or professional life. In fact, I'm not sure if he knew that I am married and had moved out of my hometown. Did this making walking away easier? As I worked to navigate the many challenges and emotions of being an adult child of an alcoholic, I had not only become acutely aware of emotional responses as well as physiological responses to the stressors linked to dealing with my father. As a result, I have spent a lot of time reading and researching what are the possible "issues" that one might experience. Before doing any reading, due to many factors in my life, it occurred to me one day that I was experiencing what I would consider PTSD in relation to my father's alcoholism as it was showing up in other situations around me. I immediately began researching to see if what I was feeling was in fact, PTSD. There were MANY resources that confirmed this for me, but this one from ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics) was short, to the point and gave me the validation I needed.

“PTSD may be the most common disorder that befalls adult children of trauma.”

• “Most ACA members have some form of PTSD, which is often expressed in our hyper vigilance of our surroundings or our acute monitoring of comments or actions of others. This behavior is a carry-over from growing up on guard much of the time.”

• “Many adult children constantly survey their homes or relationships, looking for situations that could lead to shame or some other public act of criticism. In addition to fearing shame and abandonment, our hyper-vigilance is intensified by what many therapists call Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. PTSD is most often associated with combat veterans or survivors of a traumatic event such as a car wreck or a catastrophic event. However, adult children suffer from PTSD as well. A PTSD event or events produce such a high state of threat or danger that experts believe it changes the body chemistry. Long after the threat has passed, the PTSD sufferer remains on “alert” to ward off future events that could re-trigger the fear of the previous fearful event.”

• “Physical and emotional abuse can both produce post-traumatic stress disorder or stored fear. They create the same wound whether hitting is present or not.”

• Many adult children have PTSD and are able to recover in ACA. https://adultchildren.org/resources/ptsd/
  

If you are struggling with a loved one's addiction, if your happiness and well-being are beginning to suffer, if you need support, I encourage you to get help. This battle should not be fought alone. YOU DESERVE HAPPINESS!!!

A Closing of a Chapter?

My father Billy passed away just over 48 hours ago.... However, I have been mourning the loss of my dad for nearly two decades. What I mean is, the man who was my "dad", who was loving, present, thoughtful and seemingly "healthy" slowly died as alcoholism destroyed him. His passing brings a finality that I assumed would lift a weight off my shoulders. No more worries, no more dreading the phone to ring, not more waiting for the next round of trauma. Only, the weight hasn't lifted....

Over the years, I have cried enough tears for him and because of him to fill a lake. Yes, since his passing, I've cried. I sobbed, actually, at his bedside. But since then, I've felt angry and I have no idea why. I'm not angry with him, I'm not angry he's gone. In fact, as I sat next to him, I let him know I forgave him. I let him know he deserved peace and happiness and I truly believe, that is what he is experiencing now. However, especially in the first 24 hours, I bounced from sad to angry, to numb and back again. I wanted to hit something, break something, scream... I haven't, I won't, but the feelings were there.... I wasn't expecting that. Ironically, my dad drank when he was dealing with the death of a loved one. I, however, eat comfort food, I block out the world and shut down emotionally for a bit. I'm not sure his way or my way are wrong or right. My dad may be gone, but I am still broken. Yes, I know it will take time, I know I will begin to feel the weight lifted (I hope so anyway). But I wonder, will I ever truly heal? For my entire life, I have held on to the great memories we created together and that will never stop. Do I continue to share my story, my experience with my loved one's addiction? Or do I let it die with him? I have so much written that I haven't shared yet. I still feel my experience can help others. So, I guess as long as I feel my words might impact someone, I will continue to share, at least, for a while. For now, to honor my dad, I feel like this is the ideal time to share some words from him. When I was young, (ok, YOUNGER, lol) he was so thoughtful! He loved to give gifts and often, for no reason, he gave cards and he ALWAYS took the time to write something meaningful inside. I have always appreciated this and I hold these precious cards close to me always...

God bless you dad. You were and continue to be loved. Go rest, go be wild free as you were meant to be and we will see each other again. I love you.