お早うございます!
Well, my dad was a drunk too, ya know. I grew up rescuing him from bars with my mom. But without him, we would have never made it as far as we did. Hell, I'd probably have died back in 2000 before I really got invested in PSO, back in the sega days. I was in London at a hotel called the Chelsea Millennium or something to that effect. My dad got wasted at a pub we went to eat at and tried to kill my mom. I managed to get my 280 pound dad off my 150 pound mother. I remember how I had gotten security shortly after. He promised to put down the bottle but the emotional scarring still remains.
When I was little he would try to smother me, he told me I was a bad kid and repeatedly got into fights with my brother and mother, but I couldn't give up on him because in my heart I knew he was a good person when he wasn't drunk. About the time I turned 23 my mother asked my brother and I for permission to divorce him. We really hurt my mom telling her she waited too long. After years of him trying to kill himself and blaming us for it, we finally mustered the courage to tell him to leave after he and I had a knock down drag out fight. I was bleeding in several places and I could barely breathe. I managed to run to my neighbors and have her call the police. I refused the ambulance because I couldn't handle burdening my mother with more debt.
My dad agreed to the divorce and vanished from our lives for some time. When I turned 28 I got kicked out of my house. I slept in my car and in low end hotels when I could afford to. I found a way to contact him and I drove 9 hours from Chicago to Pittsburgh because having a home with an abusive parent was better than dying on the street. But I quickly found out that there were guns all over the house. My dad is bipolar and self medicated with drugs and alcohol. I left because it was unsafe. I tried to go home but never felt welcome. I was told I was a horrible person and was emotionally beaten down for being a transwoman. A few months later I moved out and spent a year with someone who I thought I could trust. When our lease ended they severed contact and I moved to Texas. Three months in I tried to off myself and lost my home over it.
I now live in Iowa, near Dubuque with one of my partners. I find myself trying different kinds of alcohol, which is something I swore I would never touch. So far I haven't had more than a serving or two at any given time but I feel myself starting to follow my father's footsteps. I don't remember any of it, but my partner said I choked her last night. This is upsetting at best and I might end up leaving her in the middle of the night because I can't tell her I've completely lost my mind. I love her and I'm scared. I really don't wan't to hurt her and I'm tired of running away from my problems. I can't separate fact from fiction sometimes.
I'm starting to believe I can fly.
As long as we have hope, there's a future for us, right?