Oh mothers day…Where does one even start???
I haven’t really divulged any personal info besides my daily struggle with sobriety thus far sooooo here goes 🙂 (kid gloves people, kid gloves)
I grew up in a pretty normal situation, or so I thought. I had two very hiptastic parents that believed in the whole less is more when it came to parenting. I was born on a small island that lent itself to parties and alcohol. Both my parents were teachers, my mo, Biology and my father was an ex-nuclear physicist that went rogue from the corporate scene and decided to teach physics to high schoolers. (Down with the man!) Anywho, back to the “so i thought” part of it all. My mother was a born again devote baptist biology teacher that was a hoarder.
Yes, very much like the television show (which would have made a world of difference having a name for it back in the day) I grew up with “experiments”. All of our food would be growing weird green and white stuff on it (I managed to stay pretty thin). I found a few of my deceased pets in the freezer, because my mother was going to dissect them to see how they died. We had newspapers, receipts from 1980, McDonalds wrappers, roaches, and most of all we had “paths” to get around the house, you get the hint. I was and still am very much OCD about cleanliness. I would get up at midnight, or when my parents went to sleep, and clean out the kitchen, throw everything out and scrub it with bleach only to wake up to my mom screaming and hitting me and hauling the trash back inside. So needless to say you learn pretty quickly that garbage holds a higher place than you in the world.
My dad was a very highly functioning alcoholic. He drank jugs of wine every night and would wake up at 5 am for work every morning. My dad was a happy and fun drunk who enthralled me with his knowledge of quantum mechanics and intricacies of the atomic world and my mom was a mean and angry sober baptist hoarder. So I suppose you can see how one would believe happiness equates to drinking and being intellectual and sobriety equates to saving shit and talking about god.
My mother and I have a pretty good relationship now, it helps that I live a few thousand miles away, but overall I have learned to let live and that each one of us are here to grow through our own experiences and battles. It is still hard to call and talk about the crazy snow storm and get an earful about the prophesy in the bible that the world is ending but whatever that is who she is and I can only appreciate our time together while keeping my phone on mute:)
Well that is that in a nutshell. There are many and many more pages to that book but overall I think that kind of explains the alcoholism/shame/fun/escape thing for me.
Happy Mothers Day.