Warning: This post contains themes that may make you uncomfortable, and is decidedly lacking the irreverence of most of my posts.
I have moments in my life now where I look back on my life before the age of about twenty and contemplate exactly how I managed to stay clinging to some semblance of happiness, with a mindless belief that things were going to get better. There actually were a few points where I was convinced that things weren’t going to get better, but something always intervened and I was continually stopped from doing something drastic.
Good thing, too or I wouldn’t be living a semi normal life now. I suppose my interesting upbringing definitely helped me to develop the certain quirk that I carry through my adult life. The kind of quirk that creates tweets like this…
But despite the happy outcome with my life, I fear that there are many people out there that without the strength of character that I have developed over the years would not have come out of the other end in such good shape as myself. Drugs, suicide and alcohol addiction are the kind of place that my childhood tends to take people.
And I’m having that moment where I really hope that some of the people I went to school with are reading this post, because you know what? You lot made my life hell. You knew what I was dealing with at home. You knew that I found it hard to be the only kid with glasses. You knew that it was tough being the youngest kid in the class. And you kept picking on me. And you know what? I actually don’t fucking care if you’re reading this, because if you were bullied me when I was a kid of your own volition and not because of peer pressure, you’re a fucking asshole. I feel sorry for your kids, because they are probably going to grow up to be assholes just like their parents.
Now? I have friends. Yeah, I’m a bit on the weird side and tend to just have a few close friends with acquaintances on the side just in case I need to rustle up a party in a hurry, but I’m pretty well adjusted. I’m married, which is something that I was sure would never happen as a teenager, considering I was called a ‘dog’ more often than anything else. When you’re fourteen you don’t really care about what the mirror says, and tend to believe your peers. While my peers were calling me a dog, my self esteem was dropping lower and lower by the day.
By the time I was fifteen, I was relieved that we were leaving the small town mentality behind for the city. Thankfully, things slowly started looking up with my peers after that point, but in the mean time I still had my mother to deal with.
Basically, she’s the alcoholic you see on the television. You know, the one who hasn’t been sober for a moment in twenty years? Always promising their kids that they are going to get better, that they’ll stop and everything will be okay?
Top tip: It never happens.
And another top tip: Drunks are not funny. Sure, it can be hilarious when you see someone on TV with the disposition of a headless chicken on acid, but in real life they are abusive, incoherent and a danger to everyone around them.
And you know what the worst thing is? If they don’t want to help themselves you’re fucked. The best you can do is to cut them loose and live your own life. And that’s what I ended up doing. After almost twenty years of trying to help her and make her stop, I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to forget it.
I left home after giving my mother one day notice. I’d told my dad about a week earlier, but my mum would have found some way to talk me out of it. The emotional rollercoaster is almost impossible to get off, and if it ever stops you need to jump out and run as fast as you can in fear of being sucked back in by it’s far reaching magnetic field.
This past year my status as life’s butt monkey has definitely seen a minor resurrection, with yet again more things beyond my control fucking me over, but thank to my previous twenty years of non stop shit going down, I’ve survived just fine. Threats of redundancy, property loss, illness and missing out on promotions were minor problems after the experiences of my earlier life.
Now, if people don’t like me much it’s because of my straight up way with words and slightly abrasive personality, rather than because I’m a skinny nerdy kid with glasses and a drunk teacher for a mother.
And I’m okay with that. Actually, I think it’s kind of fucking awesome.If you or someone you know suffers from alcoholism or is being bullied, please get help. And if you are the bully, stop. Think about how you’re affecting the long term outcome of someones life. Not everyone is as lucky as me.