If You Loved Me Like You Love Alcohol

*****ORIGINALLY POSTED ON MY OTHER BLOG SITE, BUT IT WON’T LET ME REBLOG IT ONTO THIS ONE*****

Dear Father,

If you loved me like you loved alcohol then I would be the first thought on your brain in the morning. You would wake up and instead of grabbing a beer, you would grab your phone and text me. If you loved me like you loved alcohol then you would tell me your biggest regrets as a father and we could work through them, instead of spilling your secrets to a bottle named Jack. If you loved me like you loved alcohol then after a long day at work you would call me on your way home, instead of sitting on a bar stool and griping at the bartender to pour you “just one more.” If you loved me like you loved alcohol then on the weekends you wouldn’t be shooting pool in a smoke-filled room buzzed on fireball, you would be playing monopoly on your living room floor with your kids sitting next to you begging for mercy as you take over all their properties. If you loved me like you loved alcohol you would have attended my graduation, my soccer games, seen me off to prom, came and visited me at work, made it to my surgeries, and seen my new place. If you loved me more than you loved alcohol you wouldn’t visit the city jail every couple months, but instead surprise visit your kids. If you loved me like you loved alcohol your statuses on facebook wouldn’t be about cracking open a beer on the holidays, they would include pictures of your kids sitting under the tree. If you loved me like you loved alcohol you would call to wish me a happy birthday. If you loved me like you loved alcohol you would realize that you have a problem, and you would get professional help, instead of getting “top shelf” help from your local liquor store. If you loved me like you loved alcohol you would notice that I try to get you to notice me, pay attention to me, and talk to me. (Even if it takes me fighting with you, or sending you pictures of alcohol to get a response.)

If you loved me like you love alcohol I would not go to sleep at night after seeing a drunken facebook status of yours wondering if you’ll live to see another sunrise. If you loved me like you love alcohol I would look for a man to date that is just like you, instead of the complete opposite, If you loved me like you love alcohol then I would have memories of you filling my childhood instead of blank spaces where you were absent. If you loved me like you love alcohol I would not have to explain to friends that my dad is a half-ass dad. If you loved me like you love alcohol I would not cry when you miss a holiday, birthday, or monumental steps in my life, If you loved me like you love alcohol I would not be scared to turn 21. If you loved me like you love alcohol I would love to be a “typical” girl and plan my wedding instead of have a panic attack at the question of who will walk me down the aisle when that day arrives. If you loved me like you love alcohol I would not be afraid of the winter, because that is when you usually try to end your life. If you loved me like you love alcohol I would be confident in who I was instead of reflecting your poor decisions upon myself.

If you loved me like you love alcohol other people would not have to fill your void.

If you loved me like you love alcohol you would be a dad.

Love,

You “daddy issue’d” daughter.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “If You Loved Me Like You Love Alcohol

Add yours

  1. Very straight forward. I wish you the best life can give you . loved your stories about your tonsillectomy and the way some people reacted to you and your boyfriend. People need to take their blinders off and look at the real world. Keep writing your doing a great job.

  2. Ashly, this is the most poignant and honest post I have read in a long time. I admire your strength and your loving and yet, accurate portrayal of your Dad and others like him. I feel your sorrow and know some of it from my own relationship with my mercurial father. When he passed away a few years ago, I found myself mourning and remembering the good things about him. I never forgot the slights, the times he made promises he didn’t keep, or waiting for him to love me as I deserved. But I did finally recognize that he was doing the best he could, not what I thought was his best or even his best for me. I just don’t think he knew how to do better. Keep your head up and keep writing. This post was beyond lovely and I think no matter what happens with your Dad, his choices will help inform your own. Nikki

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: