Just Like Mommy
Photo by Boudewijn Huysmans on Unsplash Before I'd left elementary school, I realized there were polarizing forces within me. Half of me violently hoped to never be like my mother. The other half felt resigned to the same destruction she created. My mother was an alcoholic. I hated her. There was a time before I severed tied with her that I tried desperately to find out why, to find out how. How did it happen to her? How did she get lost to alcohol? When did it start? And why? From the few people I had available to ask, it seemed that her drinking started in high school. She was the prettiest. She was the most popular. The alcohol amplified her glow and covered for her lack of self-esteem. She got trapped in the banal way that so many do. The path from party girl to alcoholic is imperceptibly downhill and paved with black ice. The drinks made socializing silkier. The drinks made problems fuzzy. The drinks felt warm. The drinks made her forget. Sip and swallow, then aga...