I am writing beside a dark window. With a cat purring at my right hand side. And I am refraining from scribbling all over my other blog. My blog that does not adhere to prose, and is an unfiltered bucket of emotion.
I fear that tonight, I am but a bucket of unfiltered emotion, after all.
My Dad is the most important person in the world to me. He is the first person I call with good news, and the one I call when my day is so shot to hell that I don’t know where to turn.
I have never been good with dealing with emotion. I find ways to detach and look at things from a logical and clinical angle. And when that fails I dissolve into tears and shut everything out. So that I can find a new way to deal with things from a logical angle.
Anyway. My Dad was an alcoholic. He was sober for over a year. I am so proud of him. When my boyfriend and I visited him, we bought a bottle of wine and beer before we went to my step mom’s place… My Dad joined Tim and I in a beer. Or four. He had four. I tentatively asked if quitting drinking was like quitting smoking. Having quit smoking myself, I explained to my Dad that I could not trust myself to touch a cigarette since. He said not to worry, and that he wouldn’t go crazy.
Well. Here I am. Worrying. Worrying like crazy. Because no matter what he says. Or how strong a man he is… he has some pretty darn good reasons to drink.
I have decided to send him the money he needs for a root canal. This eliminates his excuse that he was drinking to numb the pain in his jaw. I know that deep down.. I am selfishly sending him the money in hopes that he will stop giving me reason to worry.
Do you ever feel like the parent to your parent? Its such an uncomfortable feeling.