Someone kill me now. Please.
I’m over here visiting my mother. I’ve been here for the last few days (more like a week, really), and she’s been laid up drunk pretty much the entire time.
In the time I’ve been here, she’s gone through at least 4 pints of rum. Maybe more.
She was not feeling well earlier (though I don’t know if this is legit, or if she was just hungover), and asked me to call her work and tell them she wouldn’t be in. So I did. She had to be there about 2pm, and I called a little after noon. No problem.
She got up a few hours later (read: 9pm or so) and asked me to call her work and tell them that she wasn’t feeling well. I told her that I’d already done that. Satisfied, she went back to bed.
A few hours later (read: about 11:30pm), she asked me to call her work and tell them that she wasn’t feeling well. I told her that Id already done that, and she asked me to do it for Tuesday. I did.
Maybe she’s really sick, right? Maybe I’m kidding myself.
Just now, she got up and asked me to call her work to tell them that she wasn’t feeling well. I told her that I’d already done that, and that I’d done it for Tuesday, too. She asked me what day it was. I told her that it was just becoming Tuesday, and that she’d already been called in for tomorrow. She asked me to help her get back to bed. I did. She broke down crying, telling me that she missed Doug (my stepfather. He left because he couldn’t handle her drinking). That she hated herself, that she wanted to die. That she was in so much pain that she just wanted to not live anymore. I asked her if she wanted me to contact Doug. She said no. I said okay. I asked her if she wanted me to get her some help. She said no, and told me to go away. So I left her in her bedroom.
She then came in the den, where I am now, and told me not to get her any help. She made me swear on my niece’s life, and hers, that I wouldn’t get her any help.
I caved. I did it. I told her that I wouldn’t get her any help unless she asked me to.
That happened about an hour ago. I had to stop just now because she wandered in here again, sat down on the footstool, and started bawling. Crying about how she misses Doug. About how she misses my dad, and has ever since they separated, and how he was the one great love of her life. She said that she wanted to die. And that life hurt too much. And she asked me why she was so hard to love.
And she asked me why she couldn’t get sober.
I asked her if she wanted to get sober. She said yes. I asked her if she wanted me to get her some help. She said no, and told me to get away from her.
She then told me that I was a clever one, trying to trick her into admitting that she wanted to go to rehab.
She’s just staggered off to bed. Again. I may have to go through this one more time tonight.
I’m really detesting myself right now. I’m the strong one in the family. And she’s drinking herself into an early grave, and there’s nothing that anyone can do. We can’t MAKE her stop. She has to admit that she has a problem, which she kind of did tonight, but she has to be sober when she does it, and she has to say that she wants to dry out. Otherwise, knowing her, she runs the risk of falling back into it just out of spite. If she doesn’t want to get clean, she won’t. It’s that simple. Or so it seems to me.