What Happened And What's Going On

      Title's a Walking Dead reference, but it seems appropriate. I just need to get this off my chest. I didn't get any sleep last night, and I was not in the mood to go downtown. Mom noticed this and told me to sleep, and I was just too happy to oblige. I wanted a deep, restful sleep so I applied a nice thick layer of Vicks, and I was out like a light.
      Now, here's where it gets...interesting? I was out cold, so out of it that I didn't even hear it when my mom's boyfriend showed up and, seeing how pathetically drunk she was, started yelling at her. Remember, I'm just quoting my brother here, but Mom's boyfriend said something like she was ruining the family, and she needed to quit drinking right now. (She didn't.) My brother then told her she was not allowed to drive anymore. Not allowed! I understand their frustration, I feel it too. But she's the parent; she doesn't take orders from us. Even if I expected her to because I was such a betch, she is not obligated to act like my daughter. She is, first and foremost, my roommate. What she does impacts my life - hard - and if I'm sick of it, I can just move out.
      The temptation is there, don't get me wrong; but she's sixty years old and about sixty-five pounds. She's frail, she's weak, she's old, and she's sick. She's been vomiting and fainting lately. How good would I feel about myself if I took off at what is probably the worst time of her life?
      Then again...there is the other way of looking at it. She can go through one bottle of wine a day, plus however many shots she has on her dates. My brother proved to us all that alcoholic beverages will strip away your potassium. So as long as she's drinking, she's only causing herself more harm. But she won't stop drinking. Even if she has to choose between her boyfriend and her booze, I don't think she'll take a lot of time to consider. All I see coming of this whole confrontation is the three of us splitting up - and she and her boyfriend, too.
      I hate him. If I saw him dying of thirst and I had just bought the last Coke, I would feel a little unhappy about sharing. But he does care for my mom, and if it meant she would give up her alcohol, I would put up with him. Every day, she cracks open the wine, sometimes as early as noon. She staggers around, spilling every-where, repeating herself, refilling her glass until she is too drunk to wake up again. Then she wakes up around eight or nine and repeats the whole process. It's painful to watch, and on nights like tonight, where she makes me refill the glass for her, I really really hate myself for listening to my mother.
      She needs an intervention or something. This madness has got to stop. She's always saying how wonderful life is. If she meant it, she wouldn't burn through life drunk; she'd savor it. It wouldn't be a problem if she were actually happy. And maybe she's not actually happy because of the hell she puts herself through. If she would let the potassium pills do their job, she might actually start living again.
      The main reason I want her to stop drinking that swamp-scented poison is because whenever she drinks it, which is always, she starts talking about suicide. I don't know what she wants. Life is wonderful, I should jump off a bridge. Should I believe her when she's sober and clear-headed, or drunk and honest?
      This whole thing is incredibly hard to watch, day in and day out; it's always the same. The only thing I know for sure is how much it would pain her own parents to see what their daughter is like. My brother and my mom's boyfriend are ready to butt heads with her. I'm just not sure I'd be a good soldier. I'm weak and unheard, and nobody takes me seriously. Not even my...room-mates.
      I just miss the days when she and I were friends. I could tell her a secret and it would be safe. I could share a problem and she would help look for the answer. I miss that. Now she's just a stranger, with a bottle in her hand. Couple of years ago, my aunt came over, and my mom was so drunk that she didn't even recognize her own sister. She kept saying, "Who's he? Who's that guy?"
      Now that same aunt is back in town, staying at a hotel because once again, Mom's drunk. Probably didn't care to be insulted again. She knows now, just how much booze my mom can drink in a night. The look on her face. I don't know why she insists on coming over, but I envy that she gets to leave.
      I sometimes kind of get the sense that she's trying to annoy us all.