My sister Kobi makes a post on Facebook, something about going to a happy hour, inviting friends to join her. Then my mom comments " I want to come." Anyone outside our family would brush it off as a fun loving family. I look at it and have to close the window I had Facebook open in. It's not that I have finally decided to do homework, that typically doesn't happen and it doesn't have anything to do with my relationship to my sister, it's my Mothers relationship with alcohol. The simple reference to a happy hour brings me out of my socializing and reminds me of one worry that I constantly have.
It hasn't been a concern of mine forever, but her alcoholism I assume has been around forever. It just wasn't as bad or apparent to me until the last few years. Maybe it got worse, maybe coming home to the problem makes it more apparent or maybe I'm just finally old enough to realize what is really happening. It's not that I have a problem with drinking either, I go out on the weekends. The problem comes from how often and how much she consumes.
This one simple Facebook comment has gotten me into a deep thought. So many events in the past could be attributed to her drinking. That time she tripped in her bedroom and busted her head open. I fall over a lot when I am staggering drunk too. Every single fight in high school, maybe I was a little bit of a snotty teen, but when you are arguing with a drunk person, it's nearly impossible to resolve it. Or how about every time she fell asleep before dinner? After high school, I'd come back and notice it. I'd walk into the kitchen and see her diving into her secret stash of alcohol, trying to hide it from my Dad.
Eventually I had to say something, I was the only person in my family abrasive enough to actually deal with anything. The first talk went horribly she cried said I was mean and went to bed. Not surprising at all. I simply had to remove myself from the issue, I couldn't fight with her every night and see how sad it made my Dad. So for this summer I went back to Glenwood but didn't live at home.
"It's silly for you to be paying rent when you have a perfectly good bed here. I just don't get why you aren't living at home." She said one day.
"Don't worry about it." I replied, trying to avoid conflict.
"No tell me Siobhan," She pried.
"Fine, I don't want to be around your drinking. We fight too much every night and it really worries me."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," She snapped and walked away.
Ideally that would have been the end of the conversation for the entire summer. I went home for a few days and went to take a shower. Naturally I needed a towel under the sink, where we store them. Apparently my mom was storing more than towels under there now. There were three empty bottles of whiskey hidden under there. Needless to say, there was a large argument to follow. She claimed she was embarrassed and I told her that if she kept it up she was going to lose her family and friends. Finally she asked me to keep the discovery to myself and to lie to my father. Nothing was resolved and I fear that nothing will ever be resolved. You cannot force someone to get help if they do not want it.
This habit of hers hurts the whole family. It's the reason I can't call home after 5pm and it's partially the reason for my dads depression and the reason my sister doesn't come home. Now sitting here trying to do homework I'm consumed by the thoughts of going to a friends house for thanksgiving and how I'm not going to spend a large period of time at home again. It's heartbreaking really but it's life and something I think about daily. Something I deal with daily, feeling like I'm abandoning my family for not helping and feeling helpless in general.
Interrupting me from my thoughts my computer gives me the I'm dying sound and I have to go get my charger, walking away from the way from the post but not the issue.
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