Links |
Join |
Forums |
Find Help |
Recovery Readings |
Spiritual Meditations |
Chat |
Contact |
|
|
Inspirations, Poetry, Quotes, Thoughts, Etc A place for you to express yourself. Share inspirations, poetry, quotes, writings etc. here. |
|
Thread Tools | Display Modes |
|
06-15-2014, 03:53 PM | #1 |
Senior Member
Join Date: Aug 2013
Posts: 115
|
continued
This poem was written shortly before
my last drink around 2007. Like some of the other periods of the past, what exactly happened during the latter part of that year is still some- what of a blur. It is such a distinctly important part though, because of the stuff that I was doing to my father. Over the years, I had a deeply-seeded resentment toward him. Suffice to say that through A.A., and of course time, the wounds do heal. We do the very same occupation, so there's been this comparison between the two of us, and more intense it seems, this competetive one upsmanship, which was revealed in everything from the quality and quantity of the work we did, to the outspoken opinions that both of us seem to possess. I never believed that I could ever measure up to his standards. Never thought that anything I ever did was quite 'good enough' for him. Just when I thought I had certainly done something that would meet his approval, he would dismiss it casually, wouldn't notice it at all, or recommend a different way of doing what I had done. And so often times, I would find myself constantly seeking these pats on the backs, and 'atta boys' that just wouldn't show up. He'd note the flaws, and the negative, or what I felt at the time was the negative aspects, but would refuse to acknowledge the attributes, or what I considered at the time to be the more positive features. Little did I realize that in my father's unique, and rather simplified way, he was showing me how to be a man in the only way he knew how; by his example. Of course I stayed so messed up most of the time, I couldn't comprehend what it was actually like to love and respect my old man. Like a lot of life in general, I avoided him at all cost. I couldn't stand to be around him. I tolerated him, and it didn't take even a sober mind to recognize how this was not only hurting him, but confusing him. Its as if I were throwing everything the man had ever done for me back in his face. How insulting it must have been for me to completely ignore him, or refuse to make conversation with him, or give him one of those 'go to hell' looks. Well, like I previously stated, I can't really put the time frame together right now, but I do know that around that period, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. It was a high level of melanoma, and the guy is truly a living miracle. A lot of people, including me, had all but written him off, but he's been resilient, and has also found through putting the bottle down finally, and finding a God of his own understanding that life can be a lot more rewarding without the help of booze. It is disturbing, but really relative to the whole process to reveal to you how I seized his temporary demise as a way of stepping in and by rather selfish motives, did anything I could to make myself look like I actually cared when I really couldn't have cared less. I felt like such a hypocrite too, passing myself off as this son who sacraficed and quit his job so I could come in and take care of the family when essentially all I wanted, was to work less and get paid a lot more for it. I didn't go the extra mile for him when he needed me, I just saw it as another opportunity to escape occupational authority. While he took six months off in order to go through surgery, and physically recover, I was relishing in the noble cause I'd suddenly found without a care, drinking and driving in his company trucks, and running around town half the night scoring drugs. In a time when my father really, truly and genuinely, reached out to me for help, all I could do honestly was to look at the situation he was in, and see how I could somehow benefit. It will be, for the rest of my life and his too, a labor of love to set things right between the two of us. I can try too hard and too fast to repair it, and become frustrated, and I can sit back and not do anything, and become equally frustrated, but I cannot try often enough. I have to consciously back off from trying to fix it at times, because I will inevitably try to do little things and say little things that I hope will all of sudden revolutionize this often 'Norman Rockwell' idealistic view of how my family needs to interact, and its not very real at all. After all, there are several alcoholics involved, and all I want to do is the very best I can do with today. And since I am an alcoholic, a lot of times that isn't good enough. You know my old man may not call himself an alcoholic, but he's so much like me in the sense that quite often, he just wants somebody to talk to, just someone to sit or most of the time stand with him, while he tells his stories. With both of us, it is a work in progress. One thing I'll never forget though, was the expression on my father's face when I told him at the time that I'd been two weeks without a drink, and had decided to seek help for drugs and alcohol. He had little to say, but he's so transparent, his demeanor said it all. I'm so grateful having experienced that, and being able to share things like this with those like you. I wish you well in your sobriety, and appreciate you listening. Kevin |
The Following User Says Thank You to honeydumplin For Sharing: |
Sponsored Links |
Bookmarks |
Currently Active Users Viewing This Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests) | |
Thread Tools | |
Display Modes | |
|
|