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Killing Me With Your Booze
Killing Me With Your Booze
Killing Me With Your Booze
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Killing Me With Your Booze

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Nancy Enn drops her alcoholic son into the reader's lap. A powerful, raw collection of journal entries, "Killing Me With Your Booze" exposes the slow death of all that is good. Discover how her son's drunkenness harms their relationship, steals hope and defies happiness. It's a robust sharing of Nancy's profound observations and experience of living with a drunk. He is every mother's son. We are not alone in the journey of recovering our grown children from the quicksand of addictions and alcoholism. Sometimes you just need a good vent. "Killing Me With Your Booze" is not a book on rehab or therapy- it is a defining realistic view into life with an alcoholic adult child reconciling and understanding the chaos with hope and real love. You are not powerless.

Read "Killing Me With Your Booze" for a touching, page turning journey from her porch.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherNancy Enn
Release dateSep 12, 2017
ISBN9781386574705
Killing Me With Your Booze
Author

Nancy Enn

Nancy Enn, a California native now living far from the beach, is the mom of 5 grown children and 17 grandchildren. She is funny, loud, a bit self-obsessed, and committed to family and friends. She is the author and publisher of several industry specific manuals and workbooks for addiction recovery. She is the creator and editor of Live Wise Magazine. Her work life has also included: Co-Founder of the I Promise Foundation, a treatment program, and sober living resource; executive management at a leadership development publishing house; board member of the Women's Summit, a community outreach group to help women in re-entry; speaker, health recovery advocate, and consultant. She loves to paint, write, sew with purple thread and lounge at the beach. 

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    Book preview

    Killing Me With Your Booze - Nancy Enn

    I: The Pain In My Heart

    When our worlds collide, my unanswered prayers and cries in the darkness are the storms of your addiction and alcoholism. Your empty booze bottles and selfish obsessions flounder in a sea of drunken sadness. Who will love you?

    1

    ––––––––

    Good grief, I'm tired. It's exhausting to be your mom. I have no compassion left. You are loud, mean, and nasty when you drink too much. Every time in your drunkenness when you growl at me go fuck yourself I die...just a little bit more.

    You tear at my soul. You rip out my heart. You slap me with your pain. Should I not slap you back? Slap you awake!

    Wake up drunken man-child. You are killing our heart connection as mother and son. I'm not willing to die with you or for you. You have no love of life and no desire to live. This despair is written on your face and sours on your breath.

    Fear is the cheapest room in the house (Hafiz) and in your case, it's messy and stinky. Under the couch cushion is where you hide your booze along with your drunken thoughts. You are alone in your self-hatred and it is a noise quieted only with booze. Ironically the booze like a megaphone is shouting your chaos to all of us, watching your death spiral.

    2

    ––––––––

    When you have an addict, alcoholic in your space you become strangled and entangled by their dysfunction, their rage. It chokes out your kindness. You are angry, hurt, and embarrassed by its exposure. It's a daily challenge to let go and to love what is and not be accepting of the disgusting, stinky behavior.

    Enabling is the path of least resistance. Here, take some money and get out.

    Am I addicted to the drama and control?  I hope not. I am happy to give that up.

    How do I love you any more than I do or maybe I don't? I hear other mothers say how much they hate their child addict. I honestly hate what you do and how it hurts you and everyone around you.

    The billion-dollar question is: How do I love you enough to free you from this pain - this injury, addiction to booze?

    Your fears are a locked door to life and living. That door is Jammed and locked. Where have you thrown the key?

    I don't want any part of it. But damn it, I will empty every bottle I find.

    3

    ––––––––

    When my feet slip in the storm...in one storm or another, I cling to it until the storm has passed and I can stand again. It gives me my being. James Faulconer (Wheatley Institute)

    Just because you feel broken doesn't mean you must see everything else as broken.

    I'm thinking, mercy isn't about what people deserve as much as it is for us to hold it in our hands, to give it to you son every chance I can and, hopefully, I will find it for myself.

    Maybe the act of mercy is easier than loving what is, without judgment or expectation- Because in my humanness, I am not that enlightened yet. Compared to judgment, mercy is more accessible. I feel it and offer it, I don't have to explain it or define it. It doesn’t make me angry to give mercy.

    When I am frustrated with you, condemnation comes easily. It's easy to condemn what you do: drink yourself wasted. I know I shouldn't emotionally assault you in your most vulnerable of state, drunkenness. It baffles my sensitivities.

    How do I liberate you from your drunken spiritual death without you being sober? Is it for me to heal my soul in this desolate place of your drunkenness? Can I liberate you? It seems not. Freedom is yours to find.

    Why does it tear so deeply at my soul? My helplessness takes such concerted effort to shake off.

    Opening your prison door can only be offered by our Savior - listen, Jesus will reach for you - if you will extend your hand upwards, just a tiny bit. You can get to higher ground. Just believe it with that little mustard seed of faith and change how you think about this whole drinking yourself shitfaced

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