Remember the Miracles, Part 2

Interior Gaze

Photo by Michał Bińkiewicz on Unsplash

Was this really happening?

Was this all I could do to make it stop?

I watched helplessly.

My father left our home. To say I was devastated would be an understatement. I adored this man. He was smart. He was handsome. He was my dad! I desperately longed for his approval and his love. This ‘grasping after love’ left an unquenchable ache in my heart. A heavy black hole that alcohol refused to fill. Even the comfort of the ‘woods’ betrayed me. All the lush vibrant colors now turned to hues of black and grey. The lights went out; inconsolable!

As though it just happened yesterday, I remember every detail about the moment that my father left our home for good. He was standing in the corner of our kitchen right in front of our large bread drawer. I could clearly see his sadness showing through the days’ worth of stubble on his face. He was wearing my favorite color, blue. His warm winter sweater comforted me momentarily as I wrapped my arms around his chest so tightly, begging him to stay. I truly thought that he would if I just pleaded well enough.

To cut and run was to be the only available option. I watched helplessly as he gathered up his few possessions. I reached down to pick up what I could, desiring to be of some help. Without a word, we suffered the exchange of confusion and sorrow. It was quite palpable. In the midst of our suffering I longed to offer him comfort, to love him.

Was this really happening? Was this all I could do to make it stop? I watched helplessly as his car backed down the driveway and out of sight. I remained in that spot with the hope that he would change his mind and return.

Alcohol, being the great thief that it is, now robbed me of all content. It refused to offer the ‘peace’ that it had once promised. It would insist on the addition of yet another mind-altering madness; marijuana.

Coupling the use of marijuana with alcohol was at first a great diversion from reality. Yet much like alcohol, it worked until it didn’t. Nevertheless I was hooked. I began experiencing paranoia while under the influence of this drug, so I would drink to ‘black-out’ to avoid this most uncomfortable sensation.

A small glimmer of light attempted to shine through when I was in the 8th grade. After an all nighter with friends, the principal of my school pulled me aside to assure me that “You are better than this!” I began to cry. Did someone just notice me? Dare I say, did someone just express real, no strings attached love for me? I felt his genuine concern for a lost little girl just barely hanging on to a disillusioned life.

Perhaps I should try to live ‘better than this’. I was inspired by the principal’s true show of encouragement. Yet, in spite of this, I returned to my friend group. I watched as the momentary hope of real lasting change was disposed of. The formation of my present habits had become the primary working part of my mind. They fought fast and hard to regain their rightful position.

To be continued…

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