#my brain is just sad steph thoughts and i have 0 time to do anything with it

[slautertm]

you ever wake up full of angsty thoughts about your characters and angst only

[pinkandpurplecups]

Pink and Purple Cups

10 months - Laying on dad's piano. Music in our ears and smiles on our faces. Although i don’t remember physically, the pictures make me warm.

18 months -  Looking out the window waiting for dad to come home from work. I was always so anxious for him to get home. Dads smiling in a suit, he was so good at his job.

2-7 - I remember mexico, disneyland, and phoenix. I remember dad bouncing me in his lap, building us a play structure in the backyard, and teaching me to ride a bike. He really liked long baths.

7 - I come home for lunch from school and dad makes me lunch. We eat, play video games, and smile some more. Why isn't mom home for lunch too? Why don’t I wait for dad at the window anymore?

7.5 - Dad doesn’t make me lunch anymore - I bring a packed lunch to school; he isnt home for supper either. Why are we going to the big building with doctors? Why is dad in a gown?

8 - Yelling upstairs. I should be sleeping but instead I hold my ear to the bottom of the bedroom door. I don’t understand the conversation but something seems wrong, my heart feels heavy. Steph and Danna tell me to go to bed, I shouldn’t be up.

9 - Mom takes us to show homes. It’s just us girls. Mom says we should name each show home to make the search more fun. I liked sam the best, although I didn’t understand why dad didn’t get to pick a favorite.

10 - I go to a different school now. Mom, Danna, Stephanie and I live in a condo (we didn’t pick sam). I don’t know much. I don’t remember much. I just know dad wasn’t there. Mom says things will be okay.

11 - Dad picks me up every so often, and I pack a sleepover bag. This is the new normal. Mom and dad don't live together anymore, and one home has now become two. I like this house too, though. Me and dad get to do special things just us. We like to rent movies and have snacks.

15 - Dad and I go on road trips for volleyball. He teaches me to drive. We have holidays, and the odd weekends together. I don’t always like to have friends over at dad's house though - it smells like smoke in here.

16 - I can drive myself to dads now. I have my licence, which means I don’t always have sleepovers at dads anymore. I’m a busy teenager afterall. Dad likes to make me supper sometimes, and I like to eat his cooking too! What I don't like, is the pink and purple cups that are always on the counter next to an empty shot glass. They make dad act funny. I hate the colours pink and purple because of these. The second I see them, they are usually wisped away without a word.

18 - Dad tells me details from the divorse. I’m an adult now. After I hear the words depression and suicide, my head goes foggy. My dad? I’m confused, is this why he wore the gown? I feel sadness for the years I was too young to know, but I feel happy because he is better now. Right?

20 - Dad and I still hang out. The pink and purple cups don’t get wisped away anymore. I’m legal to drink now, and sometimes I have a beer at dads, but dad never wants one with me. Why does he have beer in the fridge if he doesn't drink it? Why is the shot glass still out but I never see him holding his cup?

21 - Grammie passes away on a calm february day. We are all with her, and she was ready to go. Dad seems different, but comforts me nonetheless. Her funeral comes and dad hugs me while I cry. At least we are in this together.

22 - It’s my birthday. Dad is 30 minutes late for supper. He eats a couple bites; maybe he didn’t like what he ordered. He doesn’t say much. I ask to come over after and am excited to show him my new car, but he doesn’t reciprocate. I leave feeling confused.

Christmas - I can’t wait for christmas roast! It’s tradition, minus Grammie this year. Dad likely made Brayden rice krispie squares, they’re his favorite. We brought our new kitten with us to show dad. Excited to share holiday company, I open the door to find a quiet house. No supper. Dad says he must have just closed his eyes for just a second, but the bottles under the coffee table and mess says otherwise. My heart feels heavy, but my head feels red. How could he forget christmas dinner? How could he embarrass me in front of Brayden like this? For the first time in my life, my eyes saw the alcoholic that’s been disguising itself as my dad for so many years. I pull it together and make us omelettes for supper. Nothing is the same after tonight.

January - I can’t decide whether to be angry or sad. Dad can’t get up off the couch, and calls me constantly. Auntie says dad should be in the hospital. Dad tells me everything is okay. He is seeing a doctor for heart problems and while he cant get off the couch, he says it’s a matter of getting a procedure that’s already booked; aka there’s nothing he can do now but wait. I feel more anxious than ever with each day that passes. I visit dad frequently, but I can't stand that everytime I go, there’s one more 26 under the table. Does he really think I don't notice? My brain can’t tell the difference between the dad I thought I knew and the dad that’s right in front of me. Is this what denial is?

Dad is in the hospital now. Apparently he called EMS himself. What happened at home that he had to call an ambulance? Why didn’t he call me? I arrive at pasqua hospital to visit, but I don't think he even knows im there. He must be tired.

Dad is in ICU now. He is hooked up to a ventilator and all extremities are restrained. I thought the ICU was reserved for major traumas, but apparently this is what withdrawal looks like. I visit dad everyday, but it feels like im visiting a stranger. The nurses tell us we need to bring in a bottle of alcohol to give to dad because there are no medications that will help what he is going through besides that. I feel like I could pass out. When dad is finally off the ventilator, I ask him what happened. I asked him why he did this to himself, and he replies, “why does anyone do anything?”. Suddenly, all those questions I had from my childhood make sense.

January 18th 5:13 am. My phone reads caller ID: 766-2252. 766 means its the hospital calling. My heart sinks as I answer. I don’t get told much other than I need to come to the hospital right away. No one gets these calls unless its bad. The road is blurry as my eyes fill with tears. My heart says “maybe they just need consent for a procedure” but my head says it’s much more than that. I arrive and the doctor sits me down. I see in his eyes what he’s about to say before he says it. “We did everything we could”. I hear the words, but I can't respond over the lump in my chest. I have never felt so completely incomplete.

It has been months, but I still don’t feel clear. I don’t know what to say when they ask “what happened?” because honestly I don't know either. I think I've asked God a million times “why?”. Things went from 0 to 100 faster than I could comprehend, let alone help. The only thing that’s clear is that I grew up with a high functioning, closet alcoholic - until he wasn’t. I knew he drank, but seeing a credit card statement that shows daily bottle sales was devastating. I try to convince myself that maybe it’s better this way? That would be the easiest I suppose but I feel like im constantly fighting a battle with myself. You could have done more - no, you SHOULD have done more. Was I in denial all this time or was he? Were we both? My dad never showed his struggles. Deep down I feel like I always knew, but he did everything to protect me from that side of him. Was that a blessing or a curse? Sometimes I wish that I had to deal with the negatives of an open alcoholic because then maybe he’d still be here. Maybe it would have been easier to open up the conversation and to have gotten him help sooner.

Or

Maybe

We

Dont

Know

What I DO know, is that to have 22 years of good memories from a father is more than some get at all. Mental illness and addiction are such strong things, and unfortunately stronger than my dad. I can’t even begin to comprehend how hard my dad fought for so many years.

I can only hope the confusion becomes more clear as the years go by. But for now I’m doing everything to make my dad proud. I am learning to forgive him rather than to resent him. I am attending festivals that he would have loved to see knowing he’s right there dancing with me, I blast music in my car like we used to, and I'm just taking life one day at a time. Oh, and by the way, I love the colours pink and purple now...