Truth and consequences

19 02 2013

As much as I tried to shield my girls from the ugliness, Clare in particular was old enough and smart enough to start picking up on things. After throwing out the bed sheets, I realized that they needed a truth.

We sat curled up on the sofa together and I gave it to her as black & white as I possibly could.

Me: Clare, your father has an addiction. An addiction is when you want something so badly even though it is not good for you.

Clare: Am I addicted to ice-cream?

Me: Ice-cream is ok for you in little bits. But if you ate two big tubs of it, you would probably be very sick and wouldn’t want any ice-cream for a while. But a real addiction is even when something makes you sick, you still want it. Your father is addicted to alcohol and that is called an alcoholic.

Clare: Why is alcohol bad, is it poison? (Hugely concerned facial expression) You drink wine.

Me: When you see me have a glass of wine or two with my dinner or with friends that is fine, but it would not be fine if I was drinking wine in the middle of the night or for breakfast. And unfortunately with addiction, also comes lying…and because of that your dad can’t be in this house with us right now.

(My subsequent conversation with Maddie was a streamlined version with her only concern being what was for dinner.)

By this time we were both crying. My tears were not for him, they were for my beautiful girls.

As I sat there in that moment, I realised how much I utterly detested, despised and loathed him. I hated him for putting me in that place where I had to say those words to Clare. I hated him for his choices. I hated him for his lies. I hated him for those tears that streamed down Clare’s face.

Mort did not have a close relationship with his father growing up. I on the other hand had a very close bond with my dad. Mort said many times through our marriage….”I promise to be to our girls what your dad is to you”……I hated him for breaking desecrating that promise.

Stick-Family





Disgust and disgrace

14 02 2013

I received a call from Mort the morning that the girls and I were going to return home saying that he was going to go to an AA meeting that day. I should have been happy relieved but his tone told me he hadn’t gotten to the place of accountability. My suspicion was confirmed that when I didn’t respond with jubilant squeals and thankful tears, he said, “I thought you would stop nagging me if I went. Isn’t that the deal.?” Jesus, clueless.

I arrived home to an absolute shit of a mess..literally. The house was beyond disgusting and stank of something dreadful. He had clearly been there the last two days but had told me he was at a hotel. I only made it as far as the kitchen when I called him. He was stinking drunk. I got a somewhat incoherent rambling of words and he said that the AA meeting had stressed him out (although he was awfully furry on any of the details of said meeting).

I hung up. I couldn’t be bothered listening to the lies. I opened all the windows, cleaned the kitchen and lounge and noted the countless empty vodka bottles and ripped up wine casks (yes the cheap and nasty stuff) in the bin. And then I went to the bedroom to start the tidy up in there. When I pulled the sheets off the bed, that is when I noticed a smear of something….something dreadful. He had crapped in the bed…and left it.

While you sit there with your hand over your mouth and face grimaced in rightful disgust, here is where I say, I had not until this point shared this detail with anyone. I was at that time protecting him. I did not want this story to be in the minds of our friends and my family. The reason is that although I was so very done with this crazy situation and this reckless self-absorbed alcoholic, he was still the father of my girls and he would, regardless of divorce, be in their lives in some capacity.

There is no longer the slimmest chance of that….talk about the shit hitting the fan.

There were simply no pretty pictures for this post.





I have something to tell you..

6 02 2013

He was again banished, immediately. I called my parents, recounted events and could hear deep, disappointed and slightly anguished breathing from my dad, in the background lots of “oh shits” from my mom. I couldn’t believe that telling my parents had not brought (shamed) him to his senses. Next port of call was the ‘outing’ to friends. He was incensed that I would do it and probably thought that I wouldn’t as it was ’embarrassing’. I pointed out that this wasn’t my embarrassment, this wasn’t my doing, he was making his own decisions. He was furious that I was going to tell.

After he had been gone for 2 nights, I took the girls away for a couple of nights to spend time with our soul sisters; Michelle and Bella.

“I have something to tell you”. I have never actually started a sentence like that with Michelle, we just start talking about whatever it is…so with the mysterious prelude as I took a deep breath, I watched her face reflect the things that were going through her head about what my news could be. There was happy anticipation….her expression quickly morphed when I followed, “Mort is a deceitful alcoholic and our marriage is just about over.”

She instantly burst into tears. From the outside she had seen a good marriage and a beautiful life, a bit unnerving to know that it was rotting from the inside…..she however was the only one that needed tissues that day, mine were still absorbed by anger.

tissues