Everyone seems to be writing blogs about 2008. I intended on doing so but it will wait.
This has been my worst christmas period ever. Easily. Theres so many people I wish I could say this in person to, but I cant bring myself to do it. I spent my christmas day alone, which in itself wasnt great. My mother was in work, my father and granny at an aunts, and my sisters with their husbands. I stayed at home playing poker and drinking tea. St Stephens day I was in work and it was mad. I went out with the lads to Carrick after. Frankie, Keith and Doodles were there. These three guys are such good lads. Theyve always had my back through everything. I never get to spend enough time with them as Doodles is in the army, and Keith and Frankie are away at college. We had fun, my mate Simon was there too. He hasnt had the best christmas. Hes been extremely depressed since he left college and it scares me. We went the whole way through school together. If he doesnt succeed in life, theres no chance for anyone ha.
Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life. A couple who read this blog know, but most dont. I find it hard to talk about this subject, and anytime its brought up I try avoid it. For the past 20 or so years my father has been in and out of alcoholism. It never really registered as strange for me until I was 13 or 14. I presumed I guess that it was normal for Dads to go out to the pub every night. I remember other people used to say things like, "Ah wheres Paddy? Down in the pub?" and the answer would always be yes. I realize now that it was some sort of dig. I always looked up to my Dad, as I suppose most kids did. I wanted to be like him when I was older. He always worked/works hard and gave us a pretty well off life. We never wanted for anything. His only vice was alcohol. Up until this April he had been off it a while, but then my Granda, his father, died. He had been living with us for two years, with myself and my mother taking care of him and Granny. Him dying hit Dad pretty hard and he started drinking again.
Yesterday I was in Dundalk and I got a phonecall off Dad. He was mumbling and I knew he was drunk but something about his tone worried me. He sounded scared or something. He kept mumbling about those little bastards in the house. I got home as soon as I could anyway, and when I got inside he was sitting at the top of the stairs sobbing and shaking. When I asked him what was wrong he just brought me into the bedroom and pointed at the wall saying can you not see them? I was so scared at this point but I had to tell him I didnt. He just broke down on the floor and started crying. He kept asking me to tell him it was all in his head. I didnt really know what to do. I sat him on the bed and he sat there shaking for almost two hours, sobbing. Once he calmed down he said he thought they had gone. He asked me not to tell Mam, that shed put him into a mental home. He fell asleep, still mumbling.
I had to tell my mother, so I did. Im not sure whats going to happen now. My Dad was hallucinating about snakes, maggots on his skin. I dont know if it was years of alcohol abuse or a mental breakdown.
Ive never really been as scared in my whole life.