Lillymon
New member
Well, following the unspoken rules of ZMD, anything that doesn't go anywhere else goes in Talk of the Town.
So, a Diaries post. You may be thinking if past form is of any indication, this will feature my alcoholic father, and you'd be 100% correct in thinking that.
He went out drinking on Thursday and got pretty drunk, which is not unusual, but said he'd not go drinking on Friday. Then we won £10 on the lottery, which he seemingly saw as a sign from God that he must do more drinking, and so got equally drunk on Friday. This was less acceptable, as he'd now got properly drunk two days in a row. It seems he sensed this, as he made a promise not to go down to the local pubs again.
I didn't believe him at all on this. He only stops drinking for any periods if he does something really bad, and his double drinking binge was mild by comparison to his past actions. I expected him to be back out sometime in the weekend. Saturday wasn't it, so we come to today, Sunday.
Things didn't start well, it seems he woke up decided his promise needed to be broken, and that he was going down the pub today. This means he needed money, since he's unemployed and utterly reliant on my mum and myself for financial support. My mum wasn't having it though, she doesn't get paid until next week, and money happens to be really tight right now, so we really can't afford any unnecessary expenses. So she sent him out to do some errands, and gave him no booze money.
He came back in a bad mood, stomping and shouting. This got him nowhere, so he switched tactics from 'angry boozer' to 'persistent negotiator' (he switches between these two until he gets his money), and mum gave him some money just to get him out of her hair. He was gone for a few hours.
The early evening is when the story really picks up. I'm reading a review of Nausicaä of the Valley of Wind (manga version, I really should take a closer look at it) when my mum calls me, saying dad wants to talk to me. I'm somewhat confused by this, as this typically means he's become all apologetic, but her exasperated tone made me think he was still being belligerent. I got dressed quickly anyway, and headed downstairs.
What greeted me was a rather drunk looking dad, wobbling even he just stood there. I stood at the open door to the living room, he said to me "Forget it", followed by growing "Get in!", after which he stumbled up to bed. Confused, I asked mum what the hell just happened. It seems she'd told him we'd been discussing the situation with regards to him (i.e. his rampant alcoholism, which increasingly seems to run our lives), which turned him paranoid, thinking we're talking shit about him behind his back. Or something, I really don't know.
I thought he'd gone to bed for good after this, but he stumbled back down after a while, went to the toilet, and said he was going out again, despite his already being a pretty inebriated state. This caused me to instinctively utter to remark "Y'What?" (perfectly natural, in the local dialect), which caused him to growl something to the extent of not having to take such talk from him child (I'm actually 24, though it seems he thought I was 23 earlier, a sign of how drunk he actually was).
He then comes downstairs, fully dressed, and announced that he was "Going for a walk".
Now, some explanations here. When I say I'm going for a walk, I'm going for a walk. I'm probably going to take my camera with me, I might pop in on my grandma, and I'll probably pick up some shopping on my way back.
When my dad says he's going for a walk, alarm bells are sounding in my head. This means he's effectively having a psychotic episode. He's probably going to get into a fight, the police may be involved, and he may even attempt suicide (all three have happened before).
So this is bad.
He walks into the kitchen to get his coat on, when I hear signs of a struggle and mum saying "Give it to me!" with various rambling profanities from dad. As it turns out, he's taken one of the small sharp knifes from the kitchen (pointed end, maybe three or four inches long, you could easily kill a man with it), and intends to take it out with him. Mum has clearly had enough of this shit, and won't let him leave the house with it. They struggle for a bit with dad complaining about mum taking 'his knife' off him (not your knife, not your house, not your nothing you pathetic drunk), he holds the knife in a position where he could have really easily stabbed himself, mum hits him below the belt a few times, he finally throws the knife away, mum grabs it, and he starts storming out of the kitchen.
Over? Hardly. He then grabs the largest butcher knife in the kitchen (similar in function to the last knife, but more like eight inches long), and now seems intent on leaving with that instead. I don't recall exactly what I said, but mum clearly got the message. She tried to grab his collar, but he wriggled free. So she actually jumped on the guy and properly tackled him in the middle of the living room. Dad eventually drops the knife, mum throws it into the kitchen, where I place it on the counter, slam the door shut, and brace it with my weight until things seemed to have quietened down.
Eventually I leave, to see dad in the hallway, throwing his keys on to the floor, leaving the house, and slamming the door behind him. As I write this, he's not returned.
Frankly, I'm still rather shaken from this. The above reads like a scene from Eastenders, except it just happened right in front of my fucking eyes! I have no idea what will happen next, but it seems my dad has once again found a way of going even lower. It seems he finally sees me as his enemy along with mum, which has provoke my protective mother into some sort of action (taking her on is one thing, bringing me into the fray is quite another).
I do hope something happens now.
So, a Diaries post. You may be thinking if past form is of any indication, this will feature my alcoholic father, and you'd be 100% correct in thinking that.
He went out drinking on Thursday and got pretty drunk, which is not unusual, but said he'd not go drinking on Friday. Then we won £10 on the lottery, which he seemingly saw as a sign from God that he must do more drinking, and so got equally drunk on Friday. This was less acceptable, as he'd now got properly drunk two days in a row. It seems he sensed this, as he made a promise not to go down to the local pubs again.
I didn't believe him at all on this. He only stops drinking for any periods if he does something really bad, and his double drinking binge was mild by comparison to his past actions. I expected him to be back out sometime in the weekend. Saturday wasn't it, so we come to today, Sunday.
Things didn't start well, it seems he woke up decided his promise needed to be broken, and that he was going down the pub today. This means he needed money, since he's unemployed and utterly reliant on my mum and myself for financial support. My mum wasn't having it though, she doesn't get paid until next week, and money happens to be really tight right now, so we really can't afford any unnecessary expenses. So she sent him out to do some errands, and gave him no booze money.
He came back in a bad mood, stomping and shouting. This got him nowhere, so he switched tactics from 'angry boozer' to 'persistent negotiator' (he switches between these two until he gets his money), and mum gave him some money just to get him out of her hair. He was gone for a few hours.
The early evening is when the story really picks up. I'm reading a review of Nausicaä of the Valley of Wind (manga version, I really should take a closer look at it) when my mum calls me, saying dad wants to talk to me. I'm somewhat confused by this, as this typically means he's become all apologetic, but her exasperated tone made me think he was still being belligerent. I got dressed quickly anyway, and headed downstairs.
What greeted me was a rather drunk looking dad, wobbling even he just stood there. I stood at the open door to the living room, he said to me "Forget it", followed by growing "Get in!", after which he stumbled up to bed. Confused, I asked mum what the hell just happened. It seems she'd told him we'd been discussing the situation with regards to him (i.e. his rampant alcoholism, which increasingly seems to run our lives), which turned him paranoid, thinking we're talking shit about him behind his back. Or something, I really don't know.
I thought he'd gone to bed for good after this, but he stumbled back down after a while, went to the toilet, and said he was going out again, despite his already being a pretty inebriated state. This caused me to instinctively utter to remark "Y'What?" (perfectly natural, in the local dialect), which caused him to growl something to the extent of not having to take such talk from him child (I'm actually 24, though it seems he thought I was 23 earlier, a sign of how drunk he actually was).
He then comes downstairs, fully dressed, and announced that he was "Going for a walk".
Now, some explanations here. When I say I'm going for a walk, I'm going for a walk. I'm probably going to take my camera with me, I might pop in on my grandma, and I'll probably pick up some shopping on my way back.
When my dad says he's going for a walk, alarm bells are sounding in my head. This means he's effectively having a psychotic episode. He's probably going to get into a fight, the police may be involved, and he may even attempt suicide (all three have happened before).
So this is bad.
He walks into the kitchen to get his coat on, when I hear signs of a struggle and mum saying "Give it to me!" with various rambling profanities from dad. As it turns out, he's taken one of the small sharp knifes from the kitchen (pointed end, maybe three or four inches long, you could easily kill a man with it), and intends to take it out with him. Mum has clearly had enough of this shit, and won't let him leave the house with it. They struggle for a bit with dad complaining about mum taking 'his knife' off him (not your knife, not your house, not your nothing you pathetic drunk), he holds the knife in a position where he could have really easily stabbed himself, mum hits him below the belt a few times, he finally throws the knife away, mum grabs it, and he starts storming out of the kitchen.
Over? Hardly. He then grabs the largest butcher knife in the kitchen (similar in function to the last knife, but more like eight inches long), and now seems intent on leaving with that instead. I don't recall exactly what I said, but mum clearly got the message. She tried to grab his collar, but he wriggled free. So she actually jumped on the guy and properly tackled him in the middle of the living room. Dad eventually drops the knife, mum throws it into the kitchen, where I place it on the counter, slam the door shut, and brace it with my weight until things seemed to have quietened down.
Eventually I leave, to see dad in the hallway, throwing his keys on to the floor, leaving the house, and slamming the door behind him. As I write this, he's not returned.
Frankly, I'm still rather shaken from this. The above reads like a scene from Eastenders, except it just happened right in front of my fucking eyes! I have no idea what will happen next, but it seems my dad has once again found a way of going even lower. It seems he finally sees me as his enemy along with mum, which has provoke my protective mother into some sort of action (taking her on is one thing, bringing me into the fray is quite another).
I do hope something happens now.