Alcoholism: Happy Drunk or Mean Drunk?

I understand this may be a sensitive topic to some. Unfortunately, I’ve dealt with it most of my life. The past couple of weeks I experienced the demons again and now I feel the need to get them out.

Growing up, my dad was never around. Well, I shouldn’t say never. The first time I met him, I think I was about two years old. He wouldn’t stick around very long. In fact, he was gone more than he was home. I remember thinking, “Where does he always go?” He came and went through my entire developmental ages and finally left and never came back when I was eight.

Even though my biological dad was a deadbeat, I wasn’t at a total loss for a father figure. My mom’s brother stepped in the very day I was born. He did everything, and more, that a dad should do. He was always my biggest cheerleader. When I doubted myself and thought I couldn’t accomplish something, he was there to push me forward. And, when I did accomplish whatever that goal was at the time, what a great moment it was.

I looked up to him and had him on a pedestal. In my eyes, there was nothing he couldn’t do. He’s extremely intelligent and can fix anything and everything. These are all great things, right? So, what’s the problem? The problem is, he is a drunk. He’s not a happy drunk, he’s a mean drunk. Actually, mean isn’t even a strong enough adjective. He’s an evil drunk.

Throughout the years, I remember hearing stories from different family members of his outbursts and evil spirit. For many years, to me, they were just stories because I had never experienced such evil from him. After all, I was his ‘little girl’.

I ended up moving in with him and lived with him for 13 months. It was the longest 13 months of my life. It wasn’t all bad, but I constantly walked on eggshells. I kept my room clean at all times and picked up around the house. I didn’t dare do anything that might set him off. There was one incident while living with him where I finally experienced what I had always heard. I can’t even remember what provoked him (trust me, it doesn’t take much) but the next thing I knew, he was screaming at me. That incident actually wasn’t the worst. I remember thinking “Well, I guess I can add myself to the list of his blowups.” He never apologized (from what I hear, he never does) but the next day he was as sweet as pie. I decided not to bring it up and I let it go. But I knew I couldn’t move out fast enough. That incident was mid to late 2000. Now, let’s fast forward to May of 2018.

It was the first Saturday in May, and I was doing my normal household chores. I don’t always have my cell phone glued to my hip. After I finished vacuuming the main floor and upstairs, I went to the kitchen to get water and happened to look at my phone. I saw that he had called a few times and left a text message. His text said, “Grandma fell, an ambulance is taking her to the hospital. I’m at the ocean and need you to go be with her.”  I immediately called him back, but he did not answer. I waited a couple of minutes and called again – again, there was no answer. I did not leave a message because he would have seen I called. Twice. Plus, my focus was on getting to my grandma. I called the hospital to confirm they had her and they did. I told them I’d be there within 30 minutes.

When I arrived at the hospital, grandma was in the emergency department. Luckily, she was just fine, more scared than anything. I planned on staying with her until she was released and, of course, getting her home. My grandma’s cell phone rang not long after I got there. It was her son and she told him I was there with her. He asked her if he could speak with me. I assumed he was wanting to coordinate on getting her home, etc. The moment I answered the phone, he started screaming at me. He honestly sounded like the devil. He kept repeating, “Why the fuck didn’t you call me back, you stupid fucking piece of shit! How dare you not call me back you fucking loser.” He repeated these nasty things a few times. When he finally took a breath, I said to him, “First of all, you do NOT speak to me that way.” Oh boy, let me tell you, that really set him off. He continued to explode, “Oh, don’t speak to you that way!? I will speak to you how I want to fucking speak to you, you fucking piece of shit.” Again, this went on for a bit. Finally, I said, “Number two: I did call you back. I called you TWICE. Check your fucking phone. And three, go have another drink, you fucking drunk.” I then hung up on him. Mind you, this all happened in front of my grandma in a hospital bed. I looked at my grandma and told her I was sorry she had to hear all that. She said, “what is going on?” I told her everything. She just shook her head and said, “Oh yeah, he’s done that to me more times than I can count.” I told her it was not okay, and I won’t take it. I don’t care who the person is, no one will speak to me in that manner. Especially when it’s not warranted.

Grandma ended up getting a ride home from the cabulance, but I met her there. I got her dinner ready, helped her get into her pajamas, and got her to the bathroom. She informed me that her son had left the ocean a few hours prior and was on his way to spend the rest of the weekend with her. She also told me she didn’t want me there when he arrived. I agreed with her. According to his timeline, he would have been arriving within about 30 minutes. Grandma was in bed, and she had her water, her dinner (though she was not hungry) and she had gone to the bathroom. She told me I should probably be on my way, and I asked her if she needed anything else before I leave. She said she did not.

The next day, I received not only a nasty text message from her son, but also a threatening one. I should have known he wouldn’t have arrived within 30 minutes the night before because those of us who know him, know he’s never on time. It was over an hour by the time he arrived at grandma’s and grandma needed to go to the bathroom again and had an accident. Because of that, his text message said I would be hearing from his lawyer and he’s suing me for senior neglect. It also had some other nonsense. I replied to him and then blocked him. My response was as cordial as could be, but the things I said were valid. And they were true. That was my last interaction with him. Until a couple of weeks ago.

If you read my post, “Reflecting”, you know I recently lost my grandma. I knew there was a goodchance I’d run into him at the hospital. The first day I got to the hospital, he was there. He actually was leaving as I was entering. A few minutes after I got to my grandma’s room, he comes in huffin’ and a puffin’. He says to me, “You’re not authorized to be here, and Security is on their way to take you out.” I nonchalantly said, “Yeah, ok, whatever…” That was all I said to him. My focus was my grandma. Grandma then looked up at him and said, “I want you to reconcile with Jen.” He flat out told her “NO” and then preceded to say, “She is not my family, she’s not my fucking family.” Absolutely disgusting. My grandma deserved nothing but peace during her last days. And this is one of the memories she had. It’s despicable.

After this last incident, I started to really think back to May of 2018. Why was he still so angry with me? I could only come up with one conclusion: he doesn’t remember the evil things he screamed at me that day. But if that were true, why did he follow up with that nasty text message the next day? Can someone be so drunk that they truly do not remember things they may have said, but still have some sort of memory of the situation? I’m not even sure if that makes sense. But none of this makes sense.

I’ve accepted that he will never be a part of my life ever again. It’s his loss. I’m not the only family member he’s pushed away. He’s actually pushed away most of the family. My grandma was really the only family he had left and now she’s gone. This was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to deal with. Mainly, because it just doesn’t make sense. But I suppose that goes along with the territory of an alcoholic. I don’t wish him any ill feelings, but I do hope he has regret. He may not have it now, but I believe someday, he will.

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