Alcoholism – A Curse To My Family!

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When I was about to forget the longest night of my life, my father decided to remind me again. I live with two housemates far away from home, I talk with my family every now and then and make sure that I can talk to my father before 10 otherwise I will have to witness him drunk. Yes, my father is an alcoholic, so is my brother. I’m youngest in the family so you know where I am going with this.

A day ago my father visited me. We were casually sitting in my room than he asked me if he would sleep there, I said sure why not. At that time it was a bit strange. And just that day after I was reminded why.

Next day I was at the office and came back to the home late. I opened the door, and saw my room empty. My heartbeat paced up, my worst nightmare was about to happen, my housemates were approaching behind me. My responsibility of protecting my father’s secret was not going to be a secret anymore. I opened the door of the other room, which was not mine, not my father’s to sit in. But he was sitting there with his friends, drunk. My friends met them. I put on a poker face with my eyes down, escaping from my friends eyes. The image that I had build up will be biased from now on. I will be the son of the drunkard who visits his son for a day after months just for a peaceful place to drink. I was angry and thinking about his question about my sleeping patterns which will be disturbed now. Every night will be the constant reminder  of the longest night of my life.



The last chand raat, my brother drank, the night everyone came to know he drinks. He fought with my other brother called him names, fought with my father and broke  every glass made items – glass doors, tables, windows. The whole house was bloodied, the situation finally calmed down. But the worst thing was, it was Eid the day after, our so called relatives were to visit and they should not possibly know about all this. Every single one of us rushed to clean the house, we made it squeaky clean, washed the bloodied cloths. The next morning, it was everything set, my brother and father had bandages over their hands. It reminded me that it was not just a dream. And I have yet to figure out a way to break the ice, which will most likely break my family apart but now I can only gather courage to move my fingers.

That is the thing with alcoholics, as Susan Forward states in her book.

“Alcoholism is like a dinosaur in the living room. To an outsider the dinosaur is impossible to ignore, but for those within the home, the hopelessness of evicting the beast forces them to pretend it isn’t there.”

Acknowledge the beast, don’t hide it under the rug, speak about it before time runs out.


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