I remember watching my mom cry a lot. She never saw me standing there in the hallway, watching her face in her hands at the counter, a shot of whatever she'd decided to consume that night. I remember before that, hearing so much yelling and screaming. I remember hearing the banging on the counters, walls and the stove. I remember hearing my drunk dad say some of the worst things you can say to a person, let alone your wife and mother of your kids.

My grandmas on both sides had passed away. They'd lost their moms. And it didn't bring them together. It broke what they had left into pieces. I remember my mom taking that shot, then pouring another. My dad had taken off, so he wasn't there to comfort her. I wanted to help but knew I'd get an *** kicking for seeing her vulnerable. My mom is a strong woman, she doesn't allow people to see her that way. She's too proud.

Eventually, I'd go to bed. I'd hear her go to bed, cry some more and then it'd be silent. Sometimes I'd hear my dad come home. Most nights I wouldn't see him until after he got out of work the next day. He'd already smell like a brewery by the time he came home. And by the time he came home, mom was already drunk. They'd laugh for an hour. Then I'd have to go to my room before my dad started throwing things and my mom started screaming.

Just thought I'd share that. How it's effected me and what happened on worst nights will have to wait for another time. This was just the average. It wasn't that bad. Just sucked.

Peace.