Daddy

Even though my daddy didn’t want another child when I came around, (I’ve been told) I knew he loved me. I can imagine that at 37 years old, he wanted to be done with having children. They already had three and two miscarriages. I can appreciate his practical thinking.
He wasn’t a hands on daddy, but when I did get his attention there was laughter and teasing. The kind of teasing that feels like love.
He was the youngest of four as I was. His father, Frank Scott, attorney, held positions such as chancery clerk and sheriff. His mother, Effie Lee, I understand was adored by many. She died a year before I was born, July 12, 1958.
Daddy’s family held high prestige and had to hold up appearances. But there was a lot of heartache and probably secrets.
I never remember a conversation with my grandfather who lived until 1985, but he had a strong presence when we gathered as family. In his later years he was known for sitting at the local park watching my high school’s cheerleaders and marching girls practice. (kinda creepy)
My grandmother, Effie Lee, lost her three old second son when he ran from her arms and was hit by a trolley car. The newspaper article of the event is graphic and heartbreaking. Her son, Walter Scott, awarded a Purple Heart, silver star and bronze star was killed by Germans. Her son, Charles Scott served, was captured and imprisoned in a Nazi prison camp for 18 months. He was never the same, an angry alcoholic for the remainder of days. My daddy served in the Navy as a pilot.
Effie Lee must have carried grief with grace until she died from stomach cancer at age 64.
Aside from having birth order in common, my daddy and I shared the disease of alcoholism. Only in the last ten years of his life was he sober. As I began to struggle, he was there for me. We went to AA meetings together, a place he was very loved and respected. Resentment was his main offender he shared with me. He never shared the details of that resentment. I can make some guesses. I think he was a creative man who never had a chance to pursue his own dreams. He was molded into who he should be in our Southern culture, becoming an attorney and president of a savings and loan. He was asked to resign from his presidency due to his drinking and manic episodes. He was still loved by those who worked with him. The letter asking him to resign was most kind and full of concern. He was not the disease.
When he took his own life in 1996, I only felt compassion, knowing how he had fought his diseases, alcoholism and manic depression, all of his adult life. As he said in his letter, he was tired.
I miss him. I miss his joking ways, when the phone was for me, he would reply “I think we left her in the monkey cage at the zoo!” I miss his love of dogs (another commonality) love of hunting and fishing, his fried corn, his antics in keeping the squirrels from climbing up the pole to the bird feeder by covering it with vaseline and watching them slide down, him climbing onto the roof setting up the sprinkler to keep the house cool. I love that he tried cross country skiing when he came to visit in Montana, all the while asking where we were going and stopping for a cigarette. How my friends all loved my daddy and thought he was so funny.
Yes, our house had a lot of chaos and dysfunction because of his diseases. He was not the disease. He was a kind, funny, flawed human being.

Happy sobriety birthday to me

Happy three year sobriety birthday to me. To what do I owe this sobriety? As they say, definitely something bigger that me, AA, dear friends (it doesn’t hurt when one of your best friends has been sober for 20 something years), lots of  therapy, and Neurofeedback.
My father was an alcoholic, went to treatment maybe five times. A couple of times he went to Hazelden.  When I was around ten years old, my three older siblings and I attended a family week at Hazelden. I loved it and learned a lot. I really got that alcoholism is a disease, it’s not the person. It can be treated as most medical conditions can. Any idea I had that I could get my daddy to quit drinking went away. I learned that was not in my control.
I began drinking in high school. Drinking was kinda a social norm in the group I ran with. It was definitely a social norm for my parents and their friends. Drinking was our fun time, ha. Water skiing with Gar and snakes on the Pearl River was the other fun time.  I drank to excess. Not daily. I did have some blackouts. Attending the University of Mississippi (Ole Miss, a derogatory name that should not be used) was like going to the country club, it was one big party. My boyfriend, Tayloe, was a Pike, a Pi Kappa Alpha. I was initiated as a Pike little sister. It may have been the number one party fraternity on campus. I hardly remember attending classes. Passing grades would show that I did though.
When my high school, college sweetheart, Tayloe and I broke up, I moved to Missoula, MT where my brother taught at the University. I finished college there. Excited to actually be studying. But yes, continuing with the party mode, finding the right friends to continue that habit with. That’s how I met my daughter’s father, partying. I got pregnant, we married. We moved to the east coast with no stability in our relationship, jobs, etc. That didn’t last long. The final straw was when my then husband, went out to a party with friends and volunteered me to stay at home with their kid and ours. My reaction helped fuel the premise he liked to claim about me, that I was crazy.
My two year old daughter and I went back to Mississippi. I realized my drinking was problem. My parents agreed to take care of my daughter while I went to rehab at the Mississippi hospital program right in Jackson where we lived. It was a really good program. When I got out, AA was my life. My daddy and I shared some good talks and of course he was supportive. Truthfully, I can’t remember when I started drinking again. It was sometime when I was working at Lemuria Bookstore and met  my next husband to be. He was a good drinker, charming and a good dad to my daughter. Later, I discovered what it’s like to be married to someone who is passive aggressive. That made for a good reason to drink during our marriage! No one “makes” you drink, but as an alcoholic without good coping skills, it was easy to give in to drinking. After 11 years together, we divorced. I was blamed for asking for the divorce and breaking up our family. His love affairs outside our marriage and lack of taking responsibility for anything that might make him look anything less than a nice guy had nothing to do with our failed marriage! He did a great job of playing my daughter against me. All this was even more reason to drink and to attempt suicide. Hence, my second period of recovery and abstinence. I was sober for many years. Started to drink again, and again don’t remember exactly when or why. This go around, I drank alone, not all the time. When sadness struck, such as a failed attempt for my daughter and I to enjoy each other, it would send me to the bottle. That would be a wine bottle or two. Many didn’t realize I drank, some were probably highly suspect that I did. Once my daughter cut me off completely and I lost contact with my grandchildren, the sadness came often. After a night of drinking, alone, I impulsively poured a bottle of Xanax down my throat and woke up to a handsome paramedic standing over me.
That was three years ago. That’s my story as they say in AA.
I honestly, think and feel that sobriety is going to stick. I say this while remaining humble. However, there is nothing in me that wants a drink. The physical craving is not there as it was before. I think that is a benefit of the neurofeedback. Emotionally, I’ve come a long way, have greater insights and tools. And last but not least, I have  surrounded myself with the people who love me and I love them. Many have been there through the thick and thin with me. Thank you, may I be there for you in times of joy and trouble.

Today happens to be Tayloe’s “birth” birthday as well. He is deceased, I think of him often. That’s another story.

Really, thanks for reading.

Prom night
Tayloe and I at prom night, drink in hand. My best friend, Elaine, far right, alcoholic, now deceased.