My father was a good man. He was also an alcoholic, chain smoker, and a wife-beater.

My father was a good man. He was a small employee in a large organization. He was diligent, sincere, and honest. He retired gracefully at 60. We were not affluent but, he sent us to the best school he could afford and ensured our needs for clothing and shelter were met.

My father was also an alcoholic, chain smoker, and a wife-beater. He hit us too. My brother more than me. It was like living with a bear. Terrified of a sudden unknown attack. The house used to be filled with smoke from cigarettes that he sent us to buy often. Every morning we put up our happy faces and went to school and behaved normally. We would return home hoping to go to sleep without any episode of abuse and violence. We did not talk to anyone about what was going on in our house coz we honestly thought it was the way of life. In our teenage, my brother, and I secretly prayed for him to die. 

When not drunk, he was a better man. A man from whom I inherited my love for reading. My curiosity for things and need to ask why? He was an amazing storyteller. He was fair in his dealings and knowledgeable about the history and current affairs. I always wondered what made him the way he was.

Relatives told me I was his favourite (Sorry Bezlo!) so I was the one who could get him to stop drinking. I tried. He tried too. We all tried. Alcoholics Anonymous meetings could only help so much. I attended them with him. Detox methods could not help either. The power and pull of alcohol addiction from age 17 always won. 

So, one day, in my late teens, after a Christmas mass, knowing no better solution - I forgave him in my heart, wished him 'Merry Christmas', kissed him on his cheek, and hugged him. He cringed and shivered. I realized then, this man, my father, had never been truly loved. His parents were uneducated and alcoholics. He was a victim of victims. That night changed the trajectory of our life as I indulged in small displays of affection towards him every day and I could see him thawing. 

Then came a time where he became like a child to me. He knew no one understood him better than me. I was everything from his friend to a financial advisor and the only one who he was scared of. Can you imagine that! 

No, he did not stop drinking but, Yes, he stopped beating my mother and did a lot to make amends after 20 years of harassing her. But the damage to her psyche has been irreversible. 

Eight months after his retirement, on 1st October 2014, My father died due to multiple organ failure triggered due to cirrhosis of the liver. A typical reason for alcoholics to die. At a time when I was at my most vulnerable and weak with a newborn baby. The 40th day when we could have been celebrating my child's birth, I was putting soil on my father's grave.

I was angry with him for leaving me when I needed him the most. And angry with myself for not doing enough to save him. As I yo-yoed from normal state to my not so normal state I yearned for an avenue to get the feeling out of me. I just could not name it. It was anger, grief, sadness, despair, fear, shame, and sometimes all of it together. Years of repressed emotions would threaten to well up. It would come and go in waves while I just sat with a smile in front of people at meetings or get-togethers. It was PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Very few know of this because it has always been a way of life! Time has healed the wounds and therapy has helped. Life is happy.

So why am I writing about it today? Because today 1st October is my father's 6th death anniversary and I could not find a better day to muster the courage to reveal 'metomyself'. A seed that was planted in my head years ago but came to life only now. A humble attempt to honour the memory of the man who loved me from the day I was born but whom I loved all my life. 

It's a simple website where you can go and type out your thoughts anonymously and easily delete it at the end. No one has to know. There is no interaction with anyone. No social groups. No Sign Up Required. And It's Free - Just you, yourself, and your agony. You can even abuse!

I wish my father could use it before he entered the house and hit my mother. Or before he touched that bottle of alcohol. Or when he tried to give up alcohol but the demons in his head kept pushing him to drink. I wish my mother had it to vent out her helplessness. I wish my brother and I had it while growing up. I wish I had it after his death.

I wish a husband vents out here before he hits his wife, Or a mother vents out here before taking the frustration off on her kids. I wish it helps someone to do the right thing before hurting someone. I wish it helps someone to figure out the next right thing. I wish it can change one life. I wish it can save one life.

Click https://metomyself.com/vent-out-now to vent out or log on to www.metomyself.com

P.S: It has taken a lot of courage to write this article. This is the first article of my life and I am probably going to regret it big time later. But I know, if not today, I won't have the courage to do it another time. I am not looking to ignite any social media with this post. The comments are disabled. I could not find the option to disable like and share. But if this post resonates with you or you think it may help someone, share the link to vent out instead.

P.P.S: 'metomyself' has been made possible due to some amazing people who have supported in the ups and downs, over the years, and helped bring this intention to life. Fortunately, some of them are on Linkedin.

Thank you for checking. Thank you for being there. Thank you for being you. Thank You for Everything.

Leslie Dsouza, Tony Dsouza, Lavina Dsouza, Welwyn Rodrigues, Deepa Poojary, Kartik Balasubramanian, Raghav B, Pinky Raghav, Kshitij Batra, Nalinakshi Shetty, Harvinder Jain, Saurabh Jain, Gayatri Karkera, Sejal Shah, Fiona Dsouza, Bijal Gala, Ashalata Bhat, Suzanne Mahankal, Siny Raghunathan, Abid Makani, Chanda Hate, Shalini Sarin, Hemani Murria.

#storytelling #whatinspiresme