Читать книгу How to stop drinking and start living - Chicara - Страница 4

I was born in a family that can hardly be called prosperous.

My mother always worked, in the military unit of our small town, and in her free time she was torn between the garden and her children (I have a younger brother). My father was an alcoholic, always lying on the couch with a hangover from yet another drinking party, which is why the air in the apartment always felt like «as if someone and died in here.» A mixture of fumes, a dirty body and dirty clothes is part of my childhood memories. By profession, my father was an engineer, but he did not stay at any job for long, only until his first salary, and then he began to drink indefinitely ....Therefore, no one was interested in who he was by profession, how old he was, or whether he had a family. And that’s how we lived, my mother was unsatisfied with her life and took it out on us, constantly yelling, mostly at me as I was the eldest, she never allowed me to do anything, humiliated me at the first opportunity, continuously threatened to send us to a boarding school, in a word, not a life, but a fairy tale.

After graduating from the 9th grade, when life became simply unbearable, I decided to go to study in another city, 100 km from my parents’ home. I was then 16 years old, my mother began with the divorce proceedings with my father and I did not want to see all its consequences.

I went to study to be a cook, following the example of my classmates, but not because of a great love of cooking, but because I wanted to leave my parents’ home as soon as possible, to escape the scandals, humiliation and eternal reproaches.

In connection with low self-esteem, the thought of a higher educational institution never visited me, I did not know what I wanted, since childhood all my desires were suppressed and I never made any plans for the future. I was almost never praised, but scolded and humiliated by my parents. I learned all the swear words at home, from my mother. «Leave me alone, I’m tired, go study, again you haven’t washed the floors properly, everyone has normal children, and you…» It’s hard to believe in yourself when you were considered insignificant since your childhood.

I remember I used to love to draw, I had gouache paints, which I valued and handled very carefully. Once I painted a picture, my first picture, and I was very proud of myself. It was a small boat, quietly sailing in a vast ocean. The sky was blue without a single cloud, and the ocean changed its color from turquoise to cornflower blue. The horizon line almost merged with the ocean. It was a picture full of peace and tranquility, exactly what I always lacked.

Having shown the picture of my mother, I really looked forward to praise and approval, but this did not happen, she did not react in any way; This, of course, really upset me.

One day I was looking for my masterpiece hung on the wall and could not find it. I asked my mother if she had seen my drawing, she answered: «I threw it away, there is no point in storing junk!»

Now I am 34 years old, I still remember my drawing and my mother’s deed.

This pain haunts me through life, not only because of this gesture, it is only a small part of my experiences.

Now I understand that even in my early childhood, I was about 6 or 7 years old, I painted myself alone, in the endless blue ocean, floating in the waves looking for love and attention.