This was my first Christmas with a recovering alcoholic family member- who I suspected was an alcoholic all along.
This was my first Christmas spent alongside a mother who loves her children but has lost all control of them. A mother who is desperate, lonely, and making so many
baffling wrong choices.
She’s not the recovering alcoholic who is in treatment. She’s struggling anyway.
I’m the supportive family member who everyone does think has it all together.
I do not.
Currently, I’m drinking a scotch while I write this from my phone. My family sleeps. I’m exhausted, but here I sit.
1reason2write. Flaws. Human nature. We are all a mess. All of us. Every single one of us.
Tonight I’m thankful for a new beginning.
Christmas is the story of a beautiful birth amidst the ugliness of the world- traveling to be counted in the census, donkey rides while pregnant, smelly mangers. It’s all so messy and difficult.
But the birth happens anyway.
The aftermath of Christmas is miraculous. It’s a new beginning.