I’m sorry. I know I have a lot to do in the next 15 mins. But I need to write about this.
You know when you’re little and you see your parents drinking alcohol. So you ask for some. So they give you a little amount knowing you’ll hate it. Well that happened to me, the choice of alcohol at this point is vodka and orange.
Okay, so let me start from the beginning of my anger.
I was sitting in bed writing further thoughts about the appointment on Tuesday in my journal, it dawned on me.
Tuesday is parents day. Orginally I had got appointments between 2pm and 3pm so we can go and then pick my brother up and go home.
But then I remembered we had the camhs meeting. So I promptly went to tell dad whilst I remembered.
But he was “tired” so he wasn’t taking it in. So I wrote it on a piece of paper and left it on his desk.
On his desk was a glass.
It was my chance.
The lights were off.
He had his back to me and his eyes closed.
I know that everyone leaves a drop of their drink in their glass but to get it you have to turn it 180 degrees.
So I did.
The taste was the familiar taste of vodka.
My dad says you can’t taste vodka.
I don’t know if that’s true of everyone, but I can.
So I was mad.
Is that how little he cared about me?
Last year, my dad drank a lot of vodka and ended up collapsing. We didnt know he had drank any because we never saw any. So we thought he was ill and called an ambulance.
TB, my older brother came down. We waited. Worried. Only to find out he was pissed! He drunk enough to get himself put in hospital.
He promised no more vodka.
He said he’d stop.
I knew he’d been drinking. Every single fucking night.
I’m not an idiot.
But I never had any proof.
I still don’t. Not really. Only a receipt from a few months ago.
But now I know the truth.
My dad is an alcoholic. I can’t save him.
The selfish fucking asshole.