Replying to The family tradition

i was gonna post this in the rant but then it was way longer and i wanted it to be separate so i could refrence it in the future. just a lot of thoughts for this tiny brain that i wanted to get out. such is life

the van de wetering curse. thats what my mom calls it. others call it major depressive disorder and substance use disorder. call it what you will but its killing her entire family. some before i was born, some after. 1 uncle committed suicide by jumping off a building. 1 uncle overdosed on herion. 1 aunt tried to intentionally overdose and was in the psych ward for a bit and shortly after she got out she died in an electrical fire. the others seem to think they are above that. but they all drink everyday.

now i got a front row seat to watch it kill my mom. but its always been a problem. on my 15th birthday while i was alone outside she was drowning an immense mental pain with a bottle of jack. i came in and she was grinding her teeth with a knife in her hand staring straight ahead. i just went back outside and shot the basketball alone like nothing was happening. my dad came home from work to the scene and noticed an empty pill bottle. eventually she left in an ambulance and we didnt see her for 3 days. as the ambulance pulled out, i was standing on the balcony staring into the forest. my dad found me. asked if i was alright. i was shut down and didnt reply. he proceeded to say it wasnt my fault. i think he said it had to do with the spring weather. he talked at me for 1 or 2 minutes and then we never spoke about it again. none of us. happy birthday kid.

16 years have passed and now i watch as that same bottle of jack slowly and painfully has stamped in a nearing expiration date. her liver is scarred to the point that it is solid. unprocessed bile fills between her organs and her skin causing her belly to look extremely bloated. meanwhile she doesn’t eat. she has 2 or 3 bites a day and an ensure protein shake over 3 days. her body is eating her muscles to stay alive. her deformities oddly remind me of mike wazowski if he had a head with yellow eyes.

she fell this week. hopelessly crawling in search of something to grab and pull herself up. 8 fearful minutes of faint yells and soft fists hitting the floor before my dad arrived. he was unable to lift her from her arms to help her up. he had to lift her from her torso.

i spend every weekend down here and this weekend i can see the defeat in her soul. the hope that finally being sober will spare her her life seems to have dissipated drastically over the last 5 days. watching her die is certainly exhausting and taxing. i dont sleep or eat. my mental state is all over the place. i frequently have nightmares. i somehow find myself going on long rants in my head about my exwife that i cant seem to get out of. it always starts with how we would see her family 2,000 miles away more frequently than we would see mine less than 150 miles away and how fuckin bitchy she was anytime we were with my family and then it just spirals from there. now all of a sudden she steals more of my time without even being there.

its all draining and impacting my work, my hobbies and my relationships or lack there of. And its only getting worse from here. increased pressures at work as we ramp up for winter and then the holiday season decreased health conditions for my family.

i can honestly say i am doing everything i can at the moment. i am 225 days sober after all. which means it was 224 days since i was in the hospital awaiting transport to the denver psych ward listening to my sobbing mom say that i had it. the van de wetering curse