I found out that my dad does cocaine. When I found out, it was literally the most surreal experience of my entire life. I was gonna post on GAF about it, but I figured that GAF wouldn't exactly have been an appropriate place to share something like that. To this very day, it's still very unsettling to me....and I found out almost a year ago.
Last summer, I was in my basement looking for some super glue, and when I opened up one of the desk drawers, I saw a small mound of white powder sitting on top of a small mirror with a razor blade next to it. I've never actually seen cocaine in real life (even though I'm sure some of my friends have done it) but time literally stood still for me; it was honestly the most jarring event that has ever happened to me. I just stood there, staring at it for maybe 5 minutes. Everything that I thought my dad stood for, everything I THOUGHT I knew about him.....was a complete lie. He's always getting on my case about frivolous bullshit and how I shouldn't be doing this and how I shouldn't be doing that, and now I come to find that he's doing THIS. And this is something that would effectively destroy his name, because he is almost like a celebrity where I live. Everywhere I go, whenever I say my name, they go, "Wait....you aren't so-and-so's son, are you?"
"The one that does cocaine? Yep, that's my dad!" In my head, that's what I'm thinking now.
I was so mad, confused, hurt, disappointed and just shocked when I found out. I just had to leave. So that day, I just up and left without telling anybody (while my parents left about 20 voice mail messages on my phone, because leaving with no notice is completely out of my nature). Before I left, I did inform my mom about it and she CLAIMED that she had no idea he was doing this but I didn't believe her. Whatever.
What used to be innocuous, regular behavior now makes me shudder. Every time he blows his fucking nose, every time he picks the shit out of his skin (which I now know upon research is a psychological disorder brought on by cocaine abuse), every time he flips the fuck out...I now associate with his drug use. But the thing is, I'm still searching for a way to inform him that I wish he would stop and seek help. It makes me cry every time I think about it. Why does he have to be doing this? Why did I have to find out? Why have I been burdened with such a....burden. I feel like it's my responsibility to try to help him (since he's my dad) but I am still having trouble coming to terms with this. I've talked to my friends about it and one of my better friends suggested that I do confront him and try to get him help. But it's so hard to come face-to-face with something that is pretty much KILLING you inside. Like they say, "Ignorance is bliss." Truer words were never spoken.
About 1 or 2 months ago, I was talking to my dad about something and he seemed to be in a rather jittery, frantic, euphoric mood. I was sitting at the table watching TV and after our conversation (we were talking about something I was watching), he went downstairs. I few moments later, as if he were the only person in the house, COMPLETELY oblivious of my presence upstairs, I hear small 'tapping' noises, as if he is hitting something against a table.
*tap tap tap tap tap tap*
....then I hear a long, deep inhale through the nostrils. A sniff. A SNIFF. A FUCKING SNIFF. He is down there doing cocaine and doesn't even give a shit that I can hear him. Or was he already high and didn't know that I could hear him? Does he think I don't care? Either way, I felt like someone had just stuck a dagger in my heart. I care about my family. I LOVE my family. Why do the people in my family have to be doing this?
After that, I talked to my mom, who once again, maintained that she didn't know he was doing this (this time around, she said she didn't know he was STILL doing it). Again...whatever. She tells me that she, however, may know who he is getting it from, and I'm like, "Well who the FUCK are these people?" (not in those exact words) They're older friends and I don't know them (and never heard of them) so there's not much I can do about that, even if I wanted to. I ask her if she has ever done cocaine (because she is literally the only one left in my family that isn't completely insane, IMO) and she says no, then thinks about it for a second, and says that she tried it once in college. Great. I'm the only one in my family who hasn't done drugs. Lovely. But I asked her if she would help me if I attempted to confront my dad about the drugs and she said that she would be behind me 100%.
And that was, like I said, 1 or 2 months ago. I'm still finding it hard to come to terms with. I've read over and over and over and over about ways to confront people about drug usage. I've even written a little script that I was prepared to use when I did it. But going through the actual motions is quite hard. I remember I got pretty tearful when I thought about it the other day, jumped in the car and started driving, then Andy Grammer's "Keep Your Head Up" came on the radio. It made me smile and feel a bit better, so I'm hopeful that one day, some way, some how, I'll be able to talk to my dad about this. He has effectively shattered my image of him but I still want him to be OK. He's always complaining about how I never talk to him anymore, and he's right: I honestly want nothing to do with him. I don't have too positive of an opinion about people who do drugs but I don't want to abandon him for it. But one thing that pisses me off is that I remember he accused my brother and I of doing drugs; he found some paper that people apparently keep cocaine in and wanted whomever it belonged to to confess. I didn't know what the fuck it was but now I cannot believe that he had the nerve to do something like that. Not only that, but I felt insulted that he would even LIKEN me to something like that. Now I really know who he is.
I feel like I've written a lot out of order, but this is basically a rant and a small plea for help, and perhaps some reassurance that I'm not alone in something like this, because I feel alone. I'll be on my own soon but sooner or later I'm either going to bring it up to him, or forget about it and regret it. Oh well. I feel better about telling GAF about it, although anonymously.