So many parts of this could have been a biography of my mother - the sexual abuse by her father, the divide-and-conquer approach to family relationships, the "clever" hiding of the bottles (gin, in mom's case), the multiple stints at AA but always relapsing... I deeply regret that she died when I was 27 and I didn't get a chance to have a relationship with her as an adult, because I miss her and also I never had the chance to show her the compassion and empathy she deserved, which I didn't discover in myself until a few years later. Thank you for writing this and giving me a chance to think about that a little bit tonight.
The part about rich person AA meetings reminded me of my great aunt Rose, who was the sweetest person in the world, who'd stay sober for months, then disappear on benders. I loved staying over at her house (she never touched a drop when she had kids over) because she'd take me to ride on a BUS to Woolworths where I got 25 cents to spend on anything I wanted, which was the height of big city sophistication in my book.
In every photo she is immaculately coiffed and styled, and I mentioned recently to my mom what a fashion plate she was.
My mother revealed that she got her magnificent wardrobe from the rich lady donations at Rosie's Place, the shelter that sometimes took her in. The upside of a bender was that she usually came home with a fabulous new outfit.
I had an aunt Rose who fits this description, also. She was young, gorgeous, hilarious, incisive, rich and successful at an oil ngo in the roaring Reagan 80s in DC. We would sometimes accompany her on weekend trips to expensive locales happily bankrolled by whatever wealthier stakeholders she had bewitched with her easy charisma and irresistible vivaciousness. She died young (not yet 60) and childless, after multiple hospitalizations over the years for alcohol abuse. We found her AA journals after her death, in the same pile as voluminous artwork that she abandoned before she was out of her 20s. She had nephews and nieces who adored her, but she burned her candle too brightly.
Like the other commenters this reminded me of my gram who was pretty much done drinking by the time she helped raise my sister and me (except for the yearly manhattans on mother’s day that usually ended in her nodding off at the table) but when she was younger, especially a young mother, there are many stories. She passed away in 2007 and the person she was to me and her other two grandchildren is very different than the person she was to her oldest sons. We all mourn and miss her differently and at times it has been hard to reconcile. Thanks for sharing about your grandmother.
(here on a re-read from Twitter). Between this and your thread the other day about not having children in order to break the abuse cycle, I am very in my feels about my mom lately. She's still with us, and still very oblivious to what she put(s) my sister and I through. I absolutely love how this writing acknowledges both the tender and the horrible parts of your grandmother, without denying either one. It's so complicated. Thank you <3
So many parts of this could have been a biography of my mother - the sexual abuse by her father, the divide-and-conquer approach to family relationships, the "clever" hiding of the bottles (gin, in mom's case), the multiple stints at AA but always relapsing... I deeply regret that she died when I was 27 and I didn't get a chance to have a relationship with her as an adult, because I miss her and also I never had the chance to show her the compassion and empathy she deserved, which I didn't discover in myself until a few years later. Thank you for writing this and giving me a chance to think about that a little bit tonight.
I cried writing it, and have cried again reading every single email or comment on it, which was unexpected but also great?
The part about rich person AA meetings reminded me of my great aunt Rose, who was the sweetest person in the world, who'd stay sober for months, then disappear on benders. I loved staying over at her house (she never touched a drop when she had kids over) because she'd take me to ride on a BUS to Woolworths where I got 25 cents to spend on anything I wanted, which was the height of big city sophistication in my book.
In every photo she is immaculately coiffed and styled, and I mentioned recently to my mom what a fashion plate she was.
My mother revealed that she got her magnificent wardrobe from the rich lady donations at Rosie's Place, the shelter that sometimes took her in. The upside of a bender was that she usually came home with a fabulous new outfit.
I had an aunt Rose who fits this description, also. She was young, gorgeous, hilarious, incisive, rich and successful at an oil ngo in the roaring Reagan 80s in DC. We would sometimes accompany her on weekend trips to expensive locales happily bankrolled by whatever wealthier stakeholders she had bewitched with her easy charisma and irresistible vivaciousness. She died young (not yet 60) and childless, after multiple hospitalizations over the years for alcohol abuse. We found her AA journals after her death, in the same pile as voluminous artwork that she abandoned before she was out of her 20s. She had nephews and nieces who adored her, but she burned her candle too brightly.
Like the other commenters this reminded me of my gram who was pretty much done drinking by the time she helped raise my sister and me (except for the yearly manhattans on mother’s day that usually ended in her nodding off at the table) but when she was younger, especially a young mother, there are many stories. She passed away in 2007 and the person she was to me and her other two grandchildren is very different than the person she was to her oldest sons. We all mourn and miss her differently and at times it has been hard to reconcile. Thanks for sharing about your grandmother.
(here on a re-read from Twitter). Between this and your thread the other day about not having children in order to break the abuse cycle, I am very in my feels about my mom lately. She's still with us, and still very oblivious to what she put(s) my sister and I through. I absolutely love how this writing acknowledges both the tender and the horrible parts of your grandmother, without denying either one. It's so complicated. Thank you <3
Thank YOU
She sounds wonderful, you were lucky to have her. Thank you for sharing your story ♥️