Autisteuse
VIP Member
I'm not surprised that the last straw for Ioan was to find Alice unconscious on the kitchen floor, after having spent the day verbally and physically abusing him.
My last straw with my narc alcoholic father was a few days before my best friend's wedding. He started a fight, because he wasn't the centre of attention, and got progressively drunker and drunker. I snapped and burst into hysterics: he picked up the 'phone and slurred to 999 that he was going to hurt himself, completely obviating my distress. Then he came out with a similar line to that of Alice's, that he was the loneliest person in the world with the worst childhood, and that no-one had ever been more abandoned than he. Later, I found him unconscious on the drawing room sofa wearing women's underpants and nothing else. He'd pissed himself. At that moment, something in me just completely died. It was as if the invisible umbilicus that bound us together as father and daughter had been severed. I looked at him not as a father, but an abusive, emotionally greedy and destructive monster. And I haven't changed my opinion on that since, even though he's become partially sober. The damage was and is too deep.
So I can completely empathise with Ioan on that fateful day. There comes a point in every abused man, woman or child's life when they think: 'no more. Enough. I'm done.' And even if Alice apologised, which amuses and sickens me to even write, it would still be too late. Ioan is done.
My last straw with my narc alcoholic father was a few days before my best friend's wedding. He started a fight, because he wasn't the centre of attention, and got progressively drunker and drunker. I snapped and burst into hysterics: he picked up the 'phone and slurred to 999 that he was going to hurt himself, completely obviating my distress. Then he came out with a similar line to that of Alice's, that he was the loneliest person in the world with the worst childhood, and that no-one had ever been more abandoned than he. Later, I found him unconscious on the drawing room sofa wearing women's underpants and nothing else. He'd pissed himself. At that moment, something in me just completely died. It was as if the invisible umbilicus that bound us together as father and daughter had been severed. I looked at him not as a father, but an abusive, emotionally greedy and destructive monster. And I haven't changed my opinion on that since, even though he's become partially sober. The damage was and is too deep.
So I can completely empathise with Ioan on that fateful day. There comes a point in every abused man, woman or child's life when they think: 'no more. Enough. I'm done.' And even if Alice apologised, which amuses and sickens me to even write, it would still be too late. Ioan is done.