Ticket to Hell

I was on a one-way ticket to hell and no one knew it better than my kids.Through no fault of their own they paid for the sins of their parents. Their world turned upside down and they felt responsible for all of it.

My husband and I separated in April 1986. The first night I was on my own with the kids, I drank. I continued to drink for nine years. I drank to drown out the guilt. I drank to drown out the sorrow. I drank to drown out the regret and the pain. I drank out of anger, and I drank out of fear.  

I am intentionally leaving out any part of what was going on in my life prior to leaving my husband or the years and relationships after. This is not about why I drank or why I made poor choices but rather being honest about the choices I made regardless of why. This is not about sharing the blame with my husband or any other person. This is about taking responsibility for my actions and for the damage to my children. 

I was your typical closet drinker. I worked every day, sometimes two jobs. But every night I had one or two drinks. One of my drinks was the equivalent to three. I drove drunk. I drove drunk with my kids in the car. I made poor choices and those choices compounded and I found myself lost in a world of pain with two children stuggling to cope, each in their own way.

I saw my son go from a sweet gentle soul to being angry and distant. When I realized he was doing drugs I thought I would be his buddy and smoke a joint with him. One Friday or Saturday night I let him and his friends have a party at the house while I went on a date with a friends brother. After all, his sister had been able to have a party and I couldn't have him feeling like he was less important. While I was busy going to the neighbourhood bar, he was out stealing cars. Totally unbeknownst to me of course, I had my own problems to deal with. One night I felt very righteous when I called the police from the neighbourhood bar because there was a gang right outside the doors and they had weapons. I knew my son was out and about and I didn't want him in any danger. He was 15.

I saw my daughter change from being a responsible, caring, and gregarious child to a hard working teenager full of anger with me and feeling responsible for her father's happiness. She saw what was happening with her brother and no doubt felt more like a parent than her mom. She blamed me for all of it and she had every right. I remember her calling me one evening when she was 16 because she had run out of gas and I had to go and help her and I was angry because I had already had my two drinks. A direct result of her anguish resulted in poor choices of her own and her only solace was that she loved school and her teachers and horses.

All of my life I've had family members and friends say wow what a great job you did, your kids turned out awesome, you did good, you should be proud, they should be thankful. Actually, they should be damned proud of themselves. They did good. They turned out awesome in spite of their parents. Did we love them? More than words can say and at some level they knew that but at a time when they needed a soft place to fall they felt alone and afraid.

I know that my choices caused my children pain and sadness and distance from each other. If I could have one wish, it would be that they forgive each other. Not because either of them did wrong but because neither of them did wrong.