What would you do if you had a grown son who was once homeless and a severe drunkard? You watched on as he was drinking himself to death -- everyday a little piece of your once outgoing son would die. Towards the end of my drinking career, I was having blackouts -- not remembering what I did or where I drove. I was drinking up to 24 beers a day. I was on the road to destruction.
What would you do if that same son had an extreme mental illness -- an almost debilitating mental illness that had also claimed the social life and profession of your wife. You had gone through this once, and now you were facing it again with your oldest son who was now dependent upon you.
I don't blame my father for what he has done. As I grow in recovery and sobriety, I see his severe methods almost as needed. He saved my life. He made me learn to live without a drink. He has made sure I had the basic necessities of life -- all the things that my drinking was robbing me of. Today I have twenty dollars in my wallet, and I didn't drive down immediately to get a case of beer to get drunk. THAT IS A MIRACLE! I came home and decided to save that money to do an oil change on Rosa's car.
It is my own fault that my father is not received in a good light on this blog. It reminds me of when I was married. Rachel was always badmouthing me to her parents, and then would act surprised when they didn't like me and when I wouldn't be around them. She made her bed and had to lie in it, and so have I. I hope to change that. I love my father. I would be dead without him or on the way out. I would be just another homeless statistic languishing in a major city. Rife with addictions, dishonesty, and thievery.