Under The Influence

Image by: BonnieJones

Dear Readers,

While living in our first home, MJ's father was out on his cycle and returned home as MJ and I were cozy on the couch watching a movie and having popcorn. We heard him for miles away racing towards home. When he didn't walk in the front door for some time after returning, I got up to check on him. He was sitting on the front step, letting his face air in the wind. I could see that he was smashed. {drunk} He blew our agreement. I opened the door and told him how frustrated I was with him. He murr murred some stupid words trying to sound philosophical. I went back in and sat with MJ and proceeded to finish the movie. He walked in behind me after a few moments and went into a spare room off of the living room and laid on the floor. This was a room that he never went into and I think that he was so plastered he didn't even know where he had landed. It always amazes me that though he crashed a few motorcycles, he never was pulled over for drunk driving. He ran from the police so often that maybe that was his only saving? Back then, drunk driving was not so publicly shunned as it is now. I am embarrassed that I never called the police to report him, I should have.
The movie ended and MJ went off to bed, I told her she could sleep in my bed and that I would be up in a few minutes. In the mean time, her father was mumbling, "fat Lisa, Lisa is so fat" He continued to repeat this. To clarify, I was 5' 7" and a size 10 /11 at that time. To him, I was huge, he liked women size 2-6. He has a fast metabolism and wears off calories like no one else that I know. He never had to think about his weight and people with extra weight applaud the hell out of him. He classified anyone with more than 10 lbs extra as fat & lazy. I admit, I had extra weight, but by no means was I lazy!

He kept mumbling that phase over and over, "Lisa is fat...fat Lisa" My blood boiled as I sprang up, and pulled him up from his laying position, telling him to shut up. He followed me into the living room and was acting so stupid, I turned and shoved him hard. He fell into a large tree like plant, then struggled to get up. That was the first and only time I ever laid hands on him. He got up, bugged his eyes out and I could see the rage come over his face. He put his hands up to my shoulder and neck and squeezed me while pushing me backwards. This was not good. I turned for the phone to call for help, he grabbed the phone cord and ripped it out of the wall. I told him to get out, he refused. I shoved him as hard as I could causing him to fall down. I heard the thud as I walked away and made my way to the stairs. Once upstairs I sat on the bed next to MJ and I could hear him stomping up the stairs. He got to the bedroom and told MJ that her mother was going to jail. He grabbed my hair, pulled he out of the bed, drug me down the stairs and to the bottom. MJ ran behind, Oh my God. What was she seeing and how could I let this all happen? I yelled to her to go get in the car and lock the doors. Her father yelled, "You stay here!" She was so confused she didn't know what to do. I kept wondering why she wasn't listening to me. Why wouldn't she just do as I asked? I wonder if she remembers?
Her father shoved me into the bathroom, my arm was left out and he slammed the door onto it. I yelled again, "MJ, go to the car" This time she did as I asked. I pushed on the door and got out. MJ's father sat on kitchen floor and looked like such an idiot. I almost think he was so drunk that he had no clue as to what all had just taken place. I drove to my sisters and we stayed the night.
I called MJ's fathers folks before going to sleep and let them know what had happened.

The next morning his folks got up early and headed for our house. They found him at home, a large mark on his forehead from his fall to the ground, the house torn up, the phone on the floor and him looking all chipper and wondering what brought them there. He did not led on to any mishaps.
I am truly embarrassed by that whole experience. It is ugly and I never, in all of my wildest dreams would have thought that I would be involved in such a disgusting ordeal. If I had that night to do all over again, I would have walked out the door and never looked back. I let a drunk man's insults to get the best of me, and learned that it doesn't pay to defend your feelings with a intoxicated drunk! No one wins. I share this night with you, because I want you to fully understand how bad it can get living with some one that drinks too much and too often. You can try to love someone and hope that your love has magic powers so strong that it will conquer over the bottle. But it doesn't. I myself do not drink. I don't like the flavor the smell or the behavior it creates. I still to this day don't understand the whole addiction to it. To this day when I am out and about and walk past someone that reeks of drinking, I get sick to my stomach. Then I wonder who's live they create havoc on.

Now Drink Responsibly.
Love, Galoshes