by Cathy Macklewicz
Almost 1 in 5 adult Americans (18%) lived with an alcoholic while growing up. About 76 million Americans (43% of the U.S. adult population) have been exposed to alcoholism in the family. An estimated 11 million children of alcoholics are under age 18. Children of alcoholics are at greater risk for alcoholism than children of nonalcoholics.
National Association for Children of Alcoholics, National Clearing House on Alcohol and Drug Abuse, www.nacoa.net/impfacts
Christie stole a glance at her mother, who just came in after a visit to the local bar. Her baby sister, Rose, was crying again. Christie’s mother stumbled toward the couch and slumped in front of the television. She tried to compose herself by straightening her wrinkled skirt and tugging at her soft pink sweater. She pushed a strand of hair from her face, quickly showing irritation.
“Get your sister, Christie,” she ordered. Her words slurred and her droopy eyelids opened with the sudden awareness that she could not just drift off to sleep. “Has she been crying all night?”
Christie could feel anger building inside. She had spent the entire evening watching the clock and worrying when her mother would get home. Now, she brought with her the smell of cigarette smoke mingled with the smell of alcohol. It sickened Christie’s stomach. She felt her heart pound and sweat begin to moisten her hands.
“I’ve been taking care of Rose all night,” Christie said. She gathered her sister in her arms, smelling the soft scent of baby powder she had put on her after her bath. Rose’s little hand immediately reached for Christie’s long blonde hair. She began to twirl it in her fingers in a soothing manner. Christie could hear Rose sucking her thumb in an effort to block out the shouts and hysteria and go back to sleep.
Christie remembered the times she slept comfortably through the night. In those days, her
mother wasn’t out late at night and coming in drunk, shameful, and angry at the world. She remembered the good times before her father left and her parents seemingly perfect marriage began to fall apart. Her mother’s shout brought her back to the ugly reality facing her.
“Are you trying to argue with me?” Her mother raised herself from the couch and staggered toward Christie. The smell of alcohol and sweat from her mother almost smothered Christie.
“I’m not arguing. I’ve been trying to get my homework done. The baby was just starting to get to sleep. What am I supposed to do?” Christie brushed away the tears stinging her eyes.
“I’ll take care of her then, if you can’t help. Just get out of here!” Christie felt her mother’s strong grip on her arm and a wave of anxiety immobilized her for a few seconds. She ran from the house and sat on the deck in the backyard. She gazed at the stars in the dark night and tried to think what to do. She put her hands on her head to quiet the eruption inside of her.
Pacing the yard, she cried about the lost time with the mother she used to know. She sat and rocked back and forth with her arms wrapped around her for comfort. Christie remembered her grandmother’s words and pictured her standing in front of her.
The warmth that came from that image began to restore her strength. She envisioned
her grandmother’s smiles hiding the pain and concern in her soft brown eyes. Christie heard her words over and over again, as if playing a tape.
“Christie,” her grandmother said in her matter-of-fact tone, “Come to me for help when your mother starts drinking. She’s sick, Christie. She needs help. If it gets too much for you, come to me. We’ll make sure she gets help. All of us. We’ll take care of you and Rose.”
Christie took a few long, deep breaths to steady her emotions. She sat for a few minutes until she felt calmer. She gazed into the dark night and found a single star to wish upon. If there is hope, twinkle, she thought. Give me a sign to go back in there and do what needs to be done. The star appeared to get larger and Christie prayed quietly to do the right thing.
Christie returned to the house and stood in front of her mother, who sat on the couch, her eyes closing from time to time as she fought off sleep. The baby had gone back to sleep, and the house had an eerie silence.
“Mama, I can’t take it anymore. You have been drinking every weekend and now during the week. I worry if you are even going to come home some nights. You have to get some help. I’m leaving until you do. I’m taking Rose with me to Grandma’s.”
Christie took another breath to settle her trembling hands before reaching for the baby. She picked Rose up from her crib and blocked out everything around her before walking toward the door.
“Christie, you come back here. You can leave, but you are not taking Rose with you!”
Christie continued walking out the door with Rose. She saw the tears begin to trickle down her mother’s face, distorted with feelings of anger and fear. Still, she kept walking.
Each step made Christie more certain she was doing the right thing. Grandma lived less than a mile away. She thought of the long hours her mother worked to support them and the affectionate nickname “Punky” she called her. It had been a long time since she’d heard that name.
Christie knew that if she didn’t leave, her mother would come to the kitchen table in the morning without saying a word about what had happened tonight. Christie wanted her to remember. She wanted her to remember so they could get on with putting everything behind them. She wanted her to get help so there wouldn’t be any more mornings of pained silence.
The baby’s cries interrupted Christie’s thoughts. “It’s all right, Baby Rose. Mama is drunk again. We’re going to Grandma’s house. She’ll know what to do. It’s all right, Rose. I love you. Mama loves you. And Grandma loves you, too.”
“Your well-being must be your top priority. . . . Your safety is first. Leave your house (when you don’t feel safe). Reach out for help. Don’t get in the car with a drunken parent. Carry around a list of emergency phone numbers.”
“The main thing to remember is that you aren’t alone and there is support in your schools and communities to bring light and hope for a more positive future.”
Eric Ryerson – When Your Parent Drinks Too Much
