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How can teenagers be married successfully when they have been raised in madness and dysfunction? Unfortunately Melissa and Jack tried to have a normal family without a clue how to achieve it.
Both coming from addiction and abuse, they carried on the family tradition. They brought three children into the union, without the skills to parent or to have a healthy marriage. Melissa, out of desperation, turned to support through counseling and 12-step programs, disrupting the fragile mobile of their family. When one person changes, the other one will change too, or leave the relationship.
Melissa will be forced to deal with estrangement, abandonment and divorce. Will Melissa find joy and happiness with someone who loves her in a healthy way? What will happen to her relationships with her unhealthy family after turning her life over to God? What happens to relationships when one person decides to change the family dynamics and reach out for recovery?
Both coming from addiction and abuse, they carried on the family tradition. They brought three children into the union, without the skills to parent or to have a healthy marriage. Melissa, out of desperation, turned to support through counseling and 12-step programs, disrupting the fragile mobile of their family. When one person changes, the other one will change too, or leave the relationship.
Melissa will be forced to deal with estrangement, abandonment and divorce. Will Melissa find joy and happiness with someone who loves her in a healthy way? What will happen to her relationships with her unhealthy family after turning her life over to God? What happens to relationships when one person decides to change the family dynamics and reach out for recovery?
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
From the Author:
I have written this novel based on the lives of those who are recovering from addiction. I am a recovering person and many of the people in my life that I love the most are also in recovery. It can be a roller coaster ride that changes the dynamics of dysfunctional families. The children and parents as well as other family members and friends all are effected by addiction and recovery from addiction. I have borrowed from my own life as well as from friends. Most of us that have addiction issues have come from addiction and dysfunction and as a result of that we do not learn how to be the best parents, partners or functioning adults. We do not learn how to deal with life on life's terms. It is a novel though and not a memoir. I will add that I learned a lot about how to be a much better parent and wife as the result of self help programs and counseling. Because of that I am passionate about sharing my experience, strength and hope with others. I thank God every day for how they have all helped me and saved my life and my soul.
From the Inside Flap:
I stared dull-eyed through the window into the darkness. The lights were off. The kids were sleeping and my husband was in the other room either sleeping or pretending to watch the television. We existed in the same house both lonely and empty, silently blaming the other for our pain.
The woods outside the kitchen window looked ominous and yet somehow comforting. It would be easy to get lost in it. I wanted to disappear. Life was too hard. My emotions were too large for my body to contain. The only way that I could deal with the intense feelings of loss, hate, rage, despair and pain was to drink it away. It was Sunday evening though, and how was it possible that there was no alcohol in the house? It was the first time the reality hit that I didn't just want to drink, but I needed to drink. The niggling fear chewed in my gut like a small rat.
I continued to sit in the dark, woodenly, immobilized with horror. Not the kind of horror that I loved to read about. That kind of horror was an escape. Part of me believed, at least in real life, I wasn't being chased or stalked by oozing, puss-dripping zombies. Yeah life did suck, but I could deal with humans. Actually I couldn't deal very well with humans at all.
I was so desensitized and had such a high tolerance for unacceptable behavior that I had no concept of just how much danger I was in. When Jack and I got married, shotgun, (was there any other kind?) we were really just running away from home. The ironic part was that we really didn't run away from home since we moved in with Jack's alcoholic father. So maybe I ran away from home, but Jack didn't. Neither one of us had any idea how to be adults, let alone how to be married. We both wanted to have a normal happy family, in spite of the bun already in the oven. (Did anyone even use that expression anymore?) We compared Now ten years later here I sat. I was only 30 years old. I had three miserable, fearful children, and they were probably no less mature than I was.
"My God, my God why have thou forsaken me?" I prayed to a god that I no longer believed in. I was not sure that I ever did believe in him. I was pretty sure that he didn't believe in me. Now here I was. I felt hopeless and dead inside. Suicide wasn't an option. I couldn't do that to my lost children. Even at that I failed. I wanted so bad to be a mother, wife, and well actually that was all I wanted. Was that too much to ask? Probably.
All that got me through the night was the promise of alcohol the next day. I would wait until it was nearly time to start preparing dinner. I always believed if you didn't drink until you started making dinner, that you didn't have a problem. Weekends of course were free. I didn't really get drunk anyway. That was Jack's problem. I just drank enough to keep a buzz on, that way I didn't have to feel.
When I had tried to talk to Jack about my feelings, most of which was about how pissed off I was at him, he would tell me I couldn't possibly love him and feel the way I did. Since I was actually afraid he might be right, I decided it would be better to just drink away the feelings, that way I could keep my fucking mouth shut and avoid any violence. He and I both had come from violence and we never fought. When people got angry, blood was drawn. Fists were used and terror sent little ones cowering under beds. We were proud of the fact that we never fought, but then we also never resolved anything. Our relationship was bloodless and cold. We would joke about movies where lovers would pant with passion. The partners would writhe and moan, slick with erotic sweat. Those days were long gone for us, assuming we ever really had them.
I wanted to stomp out to the living room and batter him with my fists. I wanted to rip his flesh off with my teeth. I wasn't sure if it was rage because of his cold apathy toward me, or if it was his lack of passion for me.
The woods outside the kitchen window looked ominous and yet somehow comforting. It would be easy to get lost in it. I wanted to disappear. Life was too hard. My emotions were too large for my body to contain. The only way that I could deal with the intense feelings of loss, hate, rage, despair and pain was to drink it away. It was Sunday evening though, and how was it possible that there was no alcohol in the house? It was the first time the reality hit that I didn't just want to drink, but I needed to drink. The niggling fear chewed in my gut like a small rat.
I continued to sit in the dark, woodenly, immobilized with horror. Not the kind of horror that I loved to read about. That kind of horror was an escape. Part of me believed, at least in real life, I wasn't being chased or stalked by oozing, puss-dripping zombies. Yeah life did suck, but I could deal with humans. Actually I couldn't deal very well with humans at all.
I was so desensitized and had such a high tolerance for unacceptable behavior that I had no concept of just how much danger I was in. When Jack and I got married, shotgun, (was there any other kind?) we were really just running away from home. The ironic part was that we really didn't run away from home since we moved in with Jack's alcoholic father. So maybe I ran away from home, but Jack didn't. Neither one of us had any idea how to be adults, let alone how to be married. We both wanted to have a normal happy family, in spite of the bun already in the oven. (Did anyone even use that expression anymore?) We compared Now ten years later here I sat. I was only 30 years old. I had three miserable, fearful children, and they were probably no less mature than I was.
"My God, my God why have thou forsaken me?" I prayed to a god that I no longer believed in. I was not sure that I ever did believe in him. I was pretty sure that he didn't believe in me. Now here I was. I felt hopeless and dead inside. Suicide wasn't an option. I couldn't do that to my lost children. Even at that I failed. I wanted so bad to be a mother, wife, and well actually that was all I wanted. Was that too much to ask? Probably.
All that got me through the night was the promise of alcohol the next day. I would wait until it was nearly time to start preparing dinner. I always believed if you didn't drink until you started making dinner, that you didn't have a problem. Weekends of course were free. I didn't really get drunk anyway. That was Jack's problem. I just drank enough to keep a buzz on, that way I didn't have to feel.
When I had tried to talk to Jack about my feelings, most of which was about how pissed off I was at him, he would tell me I couldn't possibly love him and feel the way I did. Since I was actually afraid he might be right, I decided it would be better to just drink away the feelings, that way I could keep my fucking mouth shut and avoid any violence. He and I both had come from violence and we never fought. When people got angry, blood was drawn. Fists were used and terror sent little ones cowering under beds. We were proud of the fact that we never fought, but then we also never resolved anything. Our relationship was bloodless and cold. We would joke about movies where lovers would pant with passion. The partners would writhe and moan, slick with erotic sweat. Those days were long gone for us, assuming we ever really had them.
I wanted to stomp out to the living room and batter him with my fists. I wanted to rip his flesh off with my teeth. I wasn't sure if it was rage because of his cold apathy toward me, or if it was his lack of passion for me.
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- PublisherCreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- Publication date2015
- ISBN 10 1515330893
- ISBN 13 9781515330899
- BindingPaperback
- Number of pages190
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Goodbye Norman Rockwell: Recovery from Addiction and New Life
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Createspace Independent Publishing Platform
(2015)
ISBN 10: 1515330893
ISBN 13: 9781515330899
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