was, or he wanted to be with me every minute of every day. I did, too, at first, but after a while it started to become too much.
It’s understandable now how he might have felt. Maybe the reason he was like that was because I’d been partying and pushing him away and stuff, and he didn’t want me to leave and go get into some kind of crazy trouble. That would make perfect sense. I couldn’t argue. But the way I saw it, I was just a normal crazy teenager, and I was doing what I wanted. At some point, that had become my top priority. I was just doing what I wanted, and that was that. Nobody around me was telling me what normal boundaries were, and so my guiding force was basically that I really didn’t like being told what to do. I was so young and so rebellious about it that when I thought of somebody else’s disapproval, all I wanted was to go party harder and do more drugs. And he hated it.
We ended up fighting more and more, and eventually we fell into the break-up and make-up cycle. But our relationship had already been established, and there was something so strong and special about our connection that it never really went away. Even when we weren’t together, we kept an eye on each other. If he got wind of me being depressed, he’d come right over and try to patch me up. If he called me to see what was up and heard that I was crying, he’d be there in five minutes. It didn’t matter what he was doing. And I still loved him, too. I always went back to him. There was one night when he was at his mom’s, and for some reason the electricity had been turned off. I was out partying at about three in the morning when somebody told me about it, and immediately the thought of it just took over my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about him and worrying about what that felt like for him, lying at home all alone with the power shut off. That’s not a nice situation to be in, and I couldn’t stand the thought of him dealing with it all alone. So I bailed on the party I was at and went over to spend the night at his house, just to show him I was there for him and that he didn’t have to be alone.
The simple fact is there was never a time back then when I didn’t care about him, or even a time when I didn’t want to be with him. I was just young and stupid, and I wasn’t thinking about a relationship full time. He was older than me, and he was ready for more than I was. I wasn’t on his level yet. I had only just started coming into my own and being a rebellious teenager. I just wanted to do what I wanted, go out and party as much as I wanted, and take all the fun I could get. In my mind, I’d gone long enough without it, and it was time to soak it up.
But honestly, things were starting to get darker in my world. While all of that breaking up and making up was going on, there’s no question I was moving steadily deeper into a lifestyle I had no hope of keeping control over. Whether I realized it or not, I was starting to figure out how those pills could help me escape the things I didn’t know how to deal with, or didn’t want to deal with. You can’t blame the guy in my life for sensing it was bad news. In the end, he was right to try and get me away from drugs as soon as he could. It’s too bad it didn’t work.
He wasn’t the only man in my life who knew how terrible the consequences of addiction could be. While I was casually popping those pills and brushing off his warnings, my dad was coming face to face with the physical effects of a lifetime of alcoholism. And when that happened, I found myself dealing with one of the most difficult and painful things I had ever experienced.
It’s hard to tell the real story of a relationship when it’s been through as much as mine has with my dad. I can’t ever really explain those years of loving him and then hating him. The ups and downs make it impossible. And back when I was a teenager, I couldn’t even make sense of it. That was why I didn’t have a
It’s understandable now how he might have felt. Maybe the reason he was like that was because I’d been partying and pushing him away and stuff, and he didn’t want me to leave and go get into some kind of crazy trouble. That would make perfect sense. I couldn’t argue. But the way I saw it, I was just a normal crazy teenager, and I was doing what I wanted. At some point, that had become my top priority. I was just doing what I wanted, and that was that. Nobody around me was telling me what normal boundaries were, and so my guiding force was basically that I really didn’t like being told what to do. I was so young and so rebellious about it that when I thought of somebody else’s disapproval, all I wanted was to go party harder and do more drugs. And he hated it.
We ended up fighting more and more, and eventually we fell into the break-up and make-up cycle. But our relationship had already been established, and there was something so strong and special about our connection that it never really went away. Even when we weren’t together, we kept an eye on each other. If he got wind of me being depressed, he’d come right over and try to patch me up. If he called me to see what was up and heard that I was crying, he’d be there in five minutes. It didn’t matter what he was doing. And I still loved him, too. I always went back to him. There was one night when he was at his mom’s, and for some reason the electricity had been turned off. I was out partying at about three in the morning when somebody told me about it, and immediately the thought of it just took over my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about him and worrying about what that felt like for him, lying at home all alone with the power shut off. That’s not a nice situation to be in, and I couldn’t stand the thought of him dealing with it all alone. So I bailed on the party I was at and went over to spend the night at his house, just to show him I was there for him and that he didn’t have to be alone.
The simple fact is there was never a time back then when I didn’t care about him, or even a time when I didn’t want to be with him. I was just young and stupid, and I wasn’t thinking about a relationship full time. He was older than me, and he was ready for more than I was. I wasn’t on his level yet. I had only just started coming into my own and being a rebellious teenager. I just wanted to do what I wanted, go out and party as much as I wanted, and take all the fun I could get. In my mind, I’d gone long enough without it, and it was time to soak it up.
But honestly, things were starting to get darker in my world. While all of that breaking up and making up was going on, there’s no question I was moving steadily deeper into a lifestyle I had no hope of keeping control over. Whether I realized it or not, I was starting to figure out how those pills could help me escape the things I didn’t know how to deal with, or didn’t want to deal with. You can’t blame the guy in my life for sensing it was bad news. In the end, he was right to try and get me away from drugs as soon as he could. It’s too bad it didn’t work.
He wasn’t the only man in my life who knew how terrible the consequences of addiction could be. While I was casually popping those pills and brushing off his warnings, my dad was coming face to face with the physical effects of a lifetime of alcoholism. And when that happened, I found myself dealing with one of the most difficult and painful things I had ever experienced.
It’s hard to tell the real story of a relationship when it’s been through as much as mine has with my dad. I can’t ever really explain those years of loving him and then hating him. The ups and downs make it impossible. And back when I was a teenager, I couldn’t even make sense of it. That was why I didn’t have a
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