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I’m not sure why i turned to here, just needed to talk i guess. So, here’s my story. Be forewarned, it doesn’t necessarily have a happy ending.
as a child, my life was bleak. My parents were both severe alcoholics and because of this, took no interest in me or my brother. We had no money as it was all spent on alcohol, and rarely had food. At the age of three, i would often be left to make dinner if i wanted anything to eat, as well as help tidy the house (with my five year old brother). Each day, i would make the two mile journey to nursery by myself, which no one seemed to think strange. No one realised that i was so unhappy inside, as i had gotten so used to hiding it that it became my natural instinct . My mum didn’t like it when we showed we were upset, she would get angry, and maybe lock us in the room or throw something at us. Every night, i would beg her not to drink, ask her to take us to the park or to see a relative, but as usual, i was ignored as she caressed the bottle like a child. I wonder if she ever really realised how much of an affect her drinking had on her children.
As time passed, my dad got put in prison and my mum was in and out of rehab every couple of months. When she was, we would stay with an aunt and grandmother. Here, we were welcomed and loved, treated like the two most important people in the world. I thought my aunt more of my parent than my own mother. Here, we were never shouted at, or locked in rooms or hit with things. we wore clean clothes and were bathed and clean. and most of all, we were never ignored. It was a house full of love and happiness, where any child would have thrived. I used to wonder why i couldn’t live there all the time….
when i was six, my life changed forever. It was 2 days before Christmas and my brother and i were getting excited. We were always spoiled by family members at this time of year. The house was never decorated for Christmas as we had no money to buy a tree or tinsel, but we would wear red as much as we could to get into the spirit of things. Anyway, it was night time and the house was cold and silent. My dad had stormed out after yet another violent fight with mum. This time, an ambulance had been called for mum due to the wounds on her face and neck, she was only gone for a couple of hours, but we still hoped she would get sent to rehab and we could be with my aunt for Christmas. However, inevitably, she returned later, and instantly hit the bottle. She always drunk more when dad wasn’t around, like she was filling the void he left. By evening, my brother and i were locked in our room and heading to bed.
it must have been two in the morning when we heard the thump. We tried to get out of the room, but couldn’t due to being locked in. It took us 20 minutes to break it down with a table (luckily the door was made out of cheap wood). We got into the living room, but could see nothing due to a power cut. Another agonising hour passed without light, heat or noise. My mum hadn’t even woken up yet, not from the bang or the cold or anything.
when the lights did come on, complete despair met our eyes. My mum was on the floor, blood surrounding her. It was on the carpet, the wall, the couch… We tried to wake her, but there was no response. She must have fallen, which caused the bang, and passed out when she hit the floor. We did everything we could think of, and when we didn’t get a response, we decided to go get help. First though, we tidied the house.mum always shouted at us for letting people in without hiding the mess first.
when we were finished, we grabbed our bikes and made out way to my aunt and grandmothers house. They were astonished to find us there at 3.30 in the morning, pyjamas covered in blood and crying. We were taken into their house as they called an ambulance and someone to come look after us whilst they went to our house. Six hours later, they came to the room we were in, puffy eyed and red faced. They explained to us that mummy hadn’t been very well for a while, and that she had now gone to live with our cousin Alan in heaven.

We were going to stay with them until they knew what was going to happen.
it took six weeks for me to realise that i wasn’t going to see my mum again. Six weeks to realise that she wasn’t in rehab, or the hospital, or with dad. Six weeks to realise that nothing was ever going to be the same.

we lived with my gran and aunt after that. My aunt adopted us, and we eventually got the family that we had never had. But we never forgot our mum, and often asked about her. When i turned 14, i asked what really happened to her. I was told that, at the last rehab session, my mum had been told that if she didn’t stop drinking, she would die. But she didn’t stop. My mum knew she was leaving us, my brother and i, my aunt,my gran, our entire family, behind. But she couldn’t stop. And so she drank herself to death.

i hold no resentment towards my mum these days, i understand that she had a disease, and that i wouldn’t be angry if it was cancer or something, so i cant be angry because it was this. I do often wonder if she knew that she would be leaving us to live with better people, where we would be loved and cherished, something she never really knew how to do herself. I also wonder if she is looking down, proud of what we have become. I hope she is happy where she is, and that one day, we will meet again and i will see her smile without the sorrow in her eyes that was once there.