Revealing the Roots of Behaviors and Addictions

I Hit My Son with a Shoe-Horn

I’ve worked my whole motherhood to break the cycle of abuse — Dryuary Day 5

“Speak when you are angry, and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.”

– Ambrose Bierce

I whipped that silly shoe horn around and caught him under his arm pit. AJ has a smart mouth. He is arrogant in his self-righteousness. He is just like me. He deserved it.

8:00 a.m.

Weight: 68.8 kg

My run today was great. I tacked on an extra warm-up and did some jogging. No pain. I feel good. For breakfast, I had treats: a boiled egg, baguette with gravy, 2 slices of bacon, coffee.

9:30 a.m.

I hit AJ with a plastic shoehorn. It always starts with the wrestling and giggling between him and Ricky. It invariably ends with Ricky crying. I had a fantastic morning today, and they ruined it. Now I’m sprouting tears and feeling horrible. His snotty attitude just makes me so irrevocably angry. He is always right no matter what anyone says.

I cannot remember the last time I didn’t drink on a Saturday, but I guarantee you it was because I was deathly ill.

“Don’t look at me, you didn’t see what happened,” AJ said, not even looking at me, punching keys into an iPad. Ricky lay screaming and crying in a fetal position on the rug. I reacted in anger. He must’ve seen the fire coming because he raised his arms to block me. I whipped that silly shoehorn around and caught him under his armpit. Then, I turned on my heel. As I left the room, I threw it on the floor. AJ has a smart mouth. He is arrogant in his self-righteousness. He is just like me. He deserved it.

Then, I buried my head into a couch pillow and tried to cry. I take 800 mg of Lithium every day, so crying doesn’t come easily. But shouldn’t I be crying? What mom attaches the word asshole to her 14-year-old son? He still had the nerve to bring the shoehorn back to me and argue that everything was Ricky’s fault. Neither one of us apologized. I am still angry, and now I feel shitty and shameful to boot.

I am fifty years old, yet I still can’t control my emotions. If I am not showing them, they are boiling in the furnace of my gut. The Merry Prankster knows how to put out that fire. Hell yes, he does.

I will NOT pour a drink this afternoon.

My mom was abusive to me and my sisters when we were little. She smacked us around and threatened us with violence. Much of my own journey with psychotherapists has been to expound on such rotten memories and how they have affected me into adulthood.

I love my kids. I’m very conscious about approaching conflicts with reason and talking. In the instances over the years when I’ve lost my temper, it’s always been with my son, AJ. I harbor great fear sometimes that AJ will end up on a therapist’s couch one day because of me.

ME: But isn’t this irrational? I have worked so hard to break the cycle of abuse and not hand it down to my kids. Have I been out of control to such a degree? I’ve made mistakes, but haven’t I been there in full support of my kids’ emotional health?

Isn’t it true that love and honesty will win the day?

The Merry Prankster: Why are you asking me? (Yawn) Whatever.

8:50 pm

Today at lunch, Anthony and I had a talk with the kids (we have three: Ella, AJ, and Ricky) about AJ and Ricky’s fight. We reminded Ricky that he should not use screaming to get attention. I apologized to AJ for hitting him. Everyone hugged. We’re all good again.

I went to the gym with Gilbert at 5:30. I barely made it through five minutes on the elliptical, so my new goal is to sail through five minutes without near-fainting, then up it to seven minutes.

It is Saturday night. I cannot remember the last time I didn’t drink on a Saturday, but I guarantee you it was because I was deathly ill. I haven’t been sick in two years, so there’s the math. I’m not craving a drink. I’m just very conscious of this whole thing, too conscious maybe. It’s constantly on my mind, and I can’t believe this new voice, this Wisdom, isn’t having to fight the Merry Prankster.

But then again, I did hit my son today, so Wisdom may have her work cut out for her after all.

Josie Elbiry, 2021

At the time of this writing (2019) my sons, AJ and Ricky, were 14 and 13 respectively. They spent many years playing the ‘wrestle-fight-Ricky-is-crying’ game. Now, they are 16 and 15.

Since October 2019, our family in Lebanon has watched the country descend into economic collapse and political strife. The kids have watched many of their friends and cousins emigrate to other countries. They have been isolated and going to school through a screen. In November 2020, their grandmother, who has been with them their whole lives, suffered a terrible fall and broke her femur. She nearly did not survive the surgery and hospital stay through December.

In January, she caught COVID in her rehabilitation facility and died three days later.

Through all of these sorrows, AJ and Ricky have grown up. Their daily fighting has stopped. They treat one another with kindness, help around the house, and study, and keep their grades up. In the wake of such a tragic year, these boys have shown their true colors. They are loving, kind, funny, and generous people. I am forever grateful to them and the many lessons they have taught me.

Revealing the Roots of Behaviors and Addictions will explore how I went from kid games to alcohol in the next short memoir - Our Gang: Dryuary Day 6

You can read parts 1 through 4 here: