It took me many years, but I finally get it.
I’m ashamed. Sad.
“Hello, my name is Lene and my mom was an alcoholic”. I’m not. I can’t even stand the smell of beer – or blood – … for good reason.
I never before understood why she drank. Sure, have a nightcap or a glass now and then. But she drank daily and… now I understand.
The other day I took a glass of white wine. I don’t normally drink… The past week has been a really bad week. So I turned on the tv and had my glass of wine. I don’t know what I thought it would do, but Jesus opened up my eyes to something.
It tasted fine. Actually very nice.
I found relief in the bottom of that glass. The pain of my heart – the overwhelming overtaking pain of helplessness went away and I actually laughed at something ridiculous on the tv.
Alcohol numbs the senses.
It made me “not care” so much. It was such a relief.
It wore off and I felt ashamed.
Not that I had taken a glass of wine. But that it had taken me so many years to figure out why my mom kept drinking. Daily. Too much. And paid the highest price possible: Her life.
When she drank she didn’t care so much. She didn’t feel the hurt and pain inside her or around her.
I finally understand.
The only reason why I’m sharing this with you, my fellow bloggers, is because I want to tell you – whisper in your ears – that I’m not an alcoholic and I won’t ever be. But now I understand why people, especially the sensitive types, feels such a need to “drown the sorrows in the bottle”.
But it leads… no place good.
I’m thankful I know Jesus and the tug in my heart will prevent me from drowning my sadness.
The story of my mom can be found here : How my mom passed away