Hi everyone. I'm really struggling at the moment and could do with a few words of advice, or something. Sorry, though - this will be v long. Massive thanks to anyone who so much as skim-reads.
My dad died last year, largely (it seems) as a result of his relationship with alcohol. On top of standard grief, I feel incredibly guilty about his death. When I was 12ish my mother (who I lived with at the time, and with whom I now have a terrible relationship) became a severe alcoholic, to the point that social services became involved, I lived with a friend for a year or so, and was then moved on to live with my dad - which involved moving area, school, everything. After my experiences with my mother I had huge issues re. alcohol and still, to this day, have never been drunk.
A couple of years later, my dad became an alcoholic. I was FURIOUS with him. I know how terrible it sounds. He was in genuine trouble and the most salient thing I felt was anger, but that's how it was. I basically moved out of his house and in with a friend, and only contacted him when I had to. My situation became pretty bad (the friend wasn?t actually that nice to me, to say the least, but to me it was still better than being around someone who was intoxicated, which reminded me of how awful I'd felt living with my alcoholic mother), and I became depressed, and because my dad was struggling he didn't notice. What didn't help was that my mum is actually kind of a bitch even sans intoxication, but I only started noting her bitchy behaviour at around the same time as she started drinking, so I associated alcohol with being horrible, basically. And because my dad was often drunk, I basically assumed he had become a horrible person.
I went slightly crazy as a result of all this sadness, which culminated in my getting married very young (at 19 - and in spite of how ridiculous a decision it was, the relationship is still going strong now that I'm 23 and it's actually worked out quite fortunately, so there's that). Here's the kicker, and the thing that really gets to me and, quite honestly, makes me want to jump off a building: I didn't let my dad walk me down the aisle. My (immature) reasoning at the time was that he would ask me why, and I would explain how let down I felt by him, and things would be fixed via honest discussion. But that never happened. My cousin told me at the time that he was devastated, but communication links had broken down between us and we never said anything to each other, and I was pig-headed and basically thought along the lines of "If he's so sad, why doesn't he bloody tell me himself?" I honestly hate myself for it now.
Basically, it all destroyed my relationship with my dad. A couple of years later (after I had my son and forced myself to really sort out some of my mental issues) I came to realise that he was still my same old dad but with issues of his own, and I realised that I still loved and liked him, and that being an alcoholic hadn't magically transformed him into a horrible person (it took me a LONG time to even realise that I made this underlying assumption at all) but we had become very distanced and I didn't really know how to remedy this. I would phone him maybe once a month and occasionally rush out a "Love you bye" at the end of a conversation, but ANY display of emotion like that would make me cringe because our relationship had disintegrated.
And then he died. I really didn't expect it. It's so stupid, but prior to his death I would think of all these drug addicts and things in the media and think "Well, with my dad it's only alcohol, he'll be fine". The last conversation I had with him was when he told me he couldn't come to see me graduate because he "didn't feel up to it", but he didn't explain how badly off he was and I half thought he was just trying to get out of it even though he assured me he wasn't, and I can't remember the last thing I said to him but I probably sounded quite miffed. The next time his name appeared on my phone, I picked up all cheerily, everything forgiven, and it was the police officer telling me he was dead.
This was a year ago now, and I feel almost as appalling as I did back then. I think about it very frequently - can't shut it out. I want to turn back time but I can't. I have no-one to talk to, really; my OH is supportive in a vague way but admits that he doesn't really understand, and frequently 'forgets' that I am grieving at all (and I do wish it was only grief! Straight grief would be terrible enough, but the guilt is crippling me). All my mum ever does is slag him (my dad) off, so if anything my relationship with her has worsened, although I try very hard to be civil to her and ring her fairly frequently because I realise now how important it is to be nice to your close family. I have come to the realisation that I am a very bad person - I feel that I basically killed my dad because I didn't do more to help him, like I should have done. If I'd helped him, made it clear that I love and need him, maybe he'd still be here. A lot of days, I feel that the only reason I don't kill myself is because of my son. The thought of spending the rest of my life feeling this way (as I expect to) fills me with utter dread.
And speaking of my son, this has all had a knock-on effect on him, too. I can't motivate myself to show enthusiasm for boring stuff like building blocks like I used to (I don't mean that negatively towards him - I absolutely adore him and don't find him boring as such, just the typical 2/3yr old activities he delights in). I snap at him much more than I used to. I feel even guiltier because of this. He deserves a happy mum and I just can't be happy.
I have found out recently that I am pregnant again, unplanned. Early days yet, but when I found out I was preg with DS I was immediately overjoyed. Now I feel very little.
I don?t really know what I want from this post; I just wanted to tell people how I feel, really. Even just writing it down has helped. Sorry it's probably badly written, no energy to go back and edit. Any responses would be appreciated. As a side note, over the last few years I have become quite socially anxious (old friends fell of the radar when I became depressed and, in all honesty, I don?t get out much these days; communicating with strangers has become quite a struggle for me) and, as ridiculous as it sounds, I find it difficult to even post on message boards like this and my doing so here is only a result of how desperate I am. If I don't reply (and I might do anyway, not sure how difficult I'll find it) it's for this reason, but I will definitely read all responses. Thanks in advance, just in case.