Waking up to my Mother laying on the couch always dampens my mood every day. She has been this way ever since my father walked out on us two years ago. At first, she would spend her days locked up in her room crying and cussing loudly and her nights consuming absurd amounts of alcohol only to pass out in the kitchen or living room. I would then have to clean up after all the mess she'd leave and sometimes even clean her up. She was a stay at home Mom turn stay at home drank. Sometimes, she would get angry and physically hurt me and I would let her in hopes that it will lessen her pain and eventually she'd stop but it didn't and she didn't.
When it became too much to deal with, I started avoiding her. I would run up to my room and lock it whenever I got home from school and sneak out of the house way before I had to go to school just so I could leave the house before she was up. This went on for a couple of months until she decided to start seeing a therapist. She admitted to me that she was wrong for taking out her anger on me and said she'd try and mend our relationship. That is when she decided to go back to school to get her Medical Degree just to keep her occupied.
In reality, she didn't have to study or work. Being the only heir to her parent's astounding fortune, we had enough money to get me and every other kid on our block through University. Money wasn't a problem for us but Mother believed in using it sparingly saying that it would be nice to have something to fall back on if ever we'd need it. She was a good example of who I'd want to be, responsible and organized and considerate of future plights. I loved to see her get out of her toxic cycles and doing more homey and productive things. From time to time, she'll have a little too much to drink and would pass out on the couch but she did her best to not fall back into old habits but mornings like this would only bring back vivid memories of her at her lowest.
I watched as she rolled over only to fall on the carpet with a thud and it was too hilarious I couldn't help but laugh. She sat up and rubbed at the point where her back had made contact with the floor and glared at me. " You should know better than to laugh at me. Come help me up," she said stretching her right hand towards me. "You should know better than to start drinking again," I retaliated with every word drenched in bitterness. "It's not like that sweety, look," she pointed to the wine bottle atop the kitchen island which was still half full," I only had two glasses, I must have dozed off here waiting for you to come down for dinner". "Oh!" I rubbed at the back of my arm feeling embarrassed ," I had too much work to do, I decided to just go to bed after". She nodded frantically and I helped her to her feet. "Come on then, I'll make us breakfast", she said smiling as she led us to the kitchen.