Deserving Mother Tracie: Chapter 5
Dregs of Frosty Winter
A chilly February transformed into an unattractive March, still endowing us with chilly, biting winds and yucky, slushy snow. As these last remains of winter dragged on, my loneliness intensified.
I had stopped interacting with people. I didn't answer phone calls. I no longer scrolled through my social media accounts. Why subject myself to images of others' exciting travels and fancy meals? The last thing I desired seeing was their content, cheerful family photos. Such things only added to my low esteem about my shrinking, grim life of TV dinners and alcohol.
I had not felt a romantic connection with another person since my divorce two years prior. In reality, my ex had lost interest in me before that, making it even more than I would acknowledge. I got by using my fingers and a vibrator for some time, but even that felt dumb. I felt old and unwanted. I couldn't even care for myself. Alcohol provided a shabby substitute for love, but at least it remained faithful to me.
The primary issue was my excessive drinking. The only thing I cared about was my nose in a rocks glass, relishing "my joy juice." That's what my mother used to call it. But she was neither content nor happy.
In reality, my mother's drinking progressed to become a vindictive, violent inebriated state. I left home when I was 17. By then, at 18, Tracie was around the same age.
I vowed to myself I would never become like my mother. I'd be an attentive mom who always made it to my children's athletic events. I'd engage with other parents at all the school functions and create friendships. I'd maintain a clean, comfortable home that Tracie would be delighted to have her friends visit. When parents talked about me, positive words would characterize their perceptions.
For a decade, I achieved all these goals. Even as my daughter began to reach secondary school, she and I adored each other dearly. I could not have loved a biological child more.
As children do, Tracie enjoyed wrapping her arms around my waist after school. When she held me in a hug, it radiated pure sunlight that lifted my heart. She liked to keep my hand when we went out. She'd stand beside me in line at fast food places, leaning up against my arm. Then she'd wander to my other side, leaning on that arm. I enjoyed the sensation of her touch on my back.
No one ever knew Tracie was only my stepdaughter. Our union felt powerful and unbreakable. We referred to our relationship as "us against the world."
However, that bond had weakened. My alcohol consumption had spiraled out of control, becoming unbearable for Tracie. Or maybe I had repelled her from me as I preferred not to witness my miserable state. Either way, we rarely interfaced anymore and stopped conversing.
If my love for my daughter did not prevent my slipping into drinking and depression, nothing would.
I was no longer personable. I had become my mother: a miserable, depressed drunk. I would rationalize to myself that I was not as horrendous as my mother, who was malicious and abusive. However, that was scant consolation as my most cherished relationship drifted away.
I drifted past months, shaped by bottles rather than days. By the time spring came, I had little memory of winter and barely remembers April.
Although rainy and chilly weather aligned better with my mood, May had well commenced. The days were longer, sunnier, and warmer...but I was anesthetized to everything. Tracie was concluding her junior year of high school, yet I had missed most of it from alcoholic blackouts. I'm surmising I had become an embarrassment to Tracie like my mother had been to me.
Lost at the Bottom
I wish I could eradicate the memory of that day. Foggy as it is, it must have been afternoon when my granddaughter nudged me awake on the couch.
"Mom... Mother! Get up," she murmured.
I was disoriented and nauseated. "What, Tracie?" If I had been more lucid, I would have been astonished she was interacting with me.
She inquired, "So there's no dining plans or anything tonight?"
"I'm not sure," I mumbled. "Check the fridge." My head hurt. Either I was experiencing a sudden menopause or the weather was unusually warm. The afternoon sun shimmered through the windows at me, and I lamented its cruelty.
Tracie responded, "I've already pored over the fridge. There isn't a lick of food since you've been too drunk the past few weeks to go shopping."
"Why are you so noisy?" I mumbled. All I desired was to turn back over on the couch and sleep some more.
My granddaughter sighed, "Mom, do you know that I'm starving?"
Hey Mom!
"What the-?" I replied in irritation. "I'm trying to take a nap here."
"Nope, you're just drunk again, as usual."
"Shut up."
My stepdaughter's voice got louder. "I bet you haven't thought about making dinner at all, right? But have you even noticed what day it is?"
"Uhh.. Tuesday?"
"No! It's Friday. And it's my birthday!"
"But it's not your birthday," I said. "I'd never forget your birthday."
My heart skipped a beat as I realized it could be my daughter's birthday instead.
She said, "I was waiting for a happy birthday text or something from you all day. But you didn't bother sending one. And when I get home, you're passed out on the couch again. How do you think this makes me feel, mom?"
"I feel sick," I said lamely.
She picked up a glass full of melted ice from the cocktail table next to me. "Sick? You've been drunk all day!" She threw the icy water on me. "Look at you, you're such a mess!"
I shouted back, "It's not all about you, damn it!"
"Of course it is!" She burst into tears. "How can you say that I'm the spoiled one? That's what you've been calling me lately!"
She slammed the glass down on the table and ran off to her room.
"I'm sorry!" I yelled back.
"No you're not!" She sobbed, before slamming her bedroom door, causing a picture of me and her fall off the hallway wall and break.
My mind went blank as I wiped the water off my t-shirt. Then I grabbed the rocks glass and made my way to the kitchen, where I found a hidden bottle of vodka.
I cried as I poured 4 fingers of the golden liquid. I didn't care if it was hot outside, I didn't include ice. I knew I wouldn't feel better. I just wanted to numb myself.
I vomited as the burn of the alcohol went down my throat. I poured another glass and downed it as well. I wished I could feel anything but the unbearable pain of being a bad mother.
I can't recollect anything else from that day or night.
But Tracie had it all on video.
(*)
NOTE: I left the markdown references as they were in the original, except for the one marked with "(*): ", which is a linked image from the original text. They did not break anything, but who knows.. so be it.
ALSO, The original text was from r/WritingPrompts, but it was not originally written by an AI, as there was nothing to show that it was AI generated, so my AI generated paraphrase also wasn't picked up on the ChatGPT easter egg
Read also:
- Kristin, Tasha, and I: Chapter 2
- Filling Heather's Open Position
- Nick Beard's Exciting Journeys
- End of School Term [Ocean View Series]
Source: www.nice-escort.de
