I keep thinking back to how convoluted and hazy everything seemed during the worst times. Most of it is hazy to me still, though like the frog bobbing up and down in the bubbling water, I get clear, harsh glimpses of the most horrible memories. Like the time I picked up up from school, once, almost passed on the curb. Another time, she fell asleep on a bus, and I got a panicked call that she didn't know where she was. I came home another time and I couldn't wake her up and had to call an ambulance.
I would continue to go to work, though not fully focused, dread coming home to what I might find, Once home, depending on the situation, I was either releaved and then had a few hours of normal, or my daughter would be drinking and I would feel the heat rise a little more. I would try to leave her alone, but then I would get so mad that I would go up to her room and verbally berate her. Then go back downstairs, feel bad for what I had said, and then apologize and help her to sober up. Those anger and resentment moments went from verbal anger, to throwing things, to taking things, to eventually, she and I would be pushing and pulling on each other. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would become physical with my beautiful daughter, but I did. And then, the night would take over, I would have a fitful sleep, and the day would start, again. While this progressed, I did pray that I would not wake up, but I continued to meet another sunrise. During all of this, she was going to school, earning a degree, and I was going to work, earning a living. This went on for three years. It amazes me what people can endure before the breaking point.
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