Have You Seen Her

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean

Have you seen her
Too many cheers
Vodka filled tears
Haunted by fears

Chasing the years
Crying in broken ears
Praying someone hears
Shaking as sober nears

911 calls
Sirens glow
Head hanging low
Breathing slow

Unconscious blood
Walking in mud
Heavy foots step
Drunk at her best

There she is
Pulse so weak
Tears on cheek
Mama please speak

Cries from her sons
Don’t do this please
Mama don’t run
Begging hearts plead

This isn’t okay
Monsters don’t play
On my knees pray
Don’t take mama away

What did we do
Mom how could you
Drink us away
All night
All day

Where did you go
How could we know
Pain you don’t show
Drunk fits you’d throw

Ambulance takes her away
Bring her back better
I beg you now
I’ll write a letter

She is our mom
We need her to be
The mama we knew
Not the mama you see

Come back Mama
Don’t lose to this shit
Come back Mama
Get up from this hit

You taught me mama
We are stronger than this
You told me so mama
Hope clenched in my fist

I’m saying a prayer
The whole world will feel
My heart shatters
This disease is so real

Dear God,
Can you hear me
Will you help my mom now
She’s drunk and she’s sick
She’s screaming so loud
Why is she crying
Why is she mad
Why is she bleeding
I’m scared and I’m sad
Please God if you’re there
I shake in this prayer
I loved Mama first
Alcoholics a curse
If there’s a devil
Devil has her now
Give Mama back
I don’t care how
Give Mama back
Her heart is so good
Give mama back
Is that understood
If you are real
If you hear what I say
I’ll sleep tonight
Knowing Mama’s okay
God don’t you take her
We need her here
God whisper to me
Do I make myself clear
Give me a sign
Let me know she’s okay
Give me a sign
Hear what I say
Thank you God
For hearing me pray
Thank you God
She’s at SEVEN HUNDRED and Thirty days today.

730 days may seem small to someone that has never battled with alcoholism or addiction. Be it the sick or the support system. 730 days is big for a girl who loves to drink. 730 days is big to the ones who love her and never want to lose her.

Image by Caption meme.
Made because it was true and represents this post.

For those of us familiar with those terms, sober, addiction, alcoholic etc, then you know why 730 days is important. You know the meaning of the days we count, and that we wake up grateful we have another day to make amends immediately if needed and spend another day with our loved ones. You know I put thoughts onto paper instead of a bottle to my lips. You know I have faith and I pray. I have to. I want to. I can’t afford not to.

Remember as you read these words, we aren’t bad people. We fell. Some of us still falling. Some of us don’t make it. Some of us get back up. But NONE of us set out to hurt you. You may not believe me now but we love you even when we’re falling.

We just struggle with life on life’s terms somedays, and how we handle that is what makes us different. No it’s not a good excuse but it is a fact.

If someone you love is sick in it, there are millions of us out there who know and can give you a glimpse of hope. We know we can’t do the work for someone, but we do know the work can be done. I hate to say it is too late, until and if it is too late.

Once the mental and physical hold has it’s grip, it is one of the hardest things to let go of.

I remember witnessing many drunk nights from my father and a couple from my mother. I remember telling myself I would never become that person. My mom screaming and fighting officers as they are strapping her to a gurney. She’s just drunk, we didn’t know that yet. Grandma Betty said mom has gone crazy, only to discover later that mom goes crazy when she is drunk.

Ambulance lights filling the front yard. That fear I carried and it always sat so heavy on my chest. I just want my mommy. I just want my daddy. That same fear I swore I’d never cause; I caused, and if I can help one person not take that same path, then my work here, WELL, it will never be done because I, we, will continue to be there in an arms reach for someone who needs a support system. For the sick or the loved one. It’s what you do when, and if, you make it out after having been on all sides.

Here’s to HOPE. In the addictive world around us.

Here’s to all the prayers and wishing wells.

Here’s to all the mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, sons and daughters that have had to let go and love a child silently from a distance. Who have had to say goodbye too soon. Who still cry themselves to sleep.

May the faith from this journal entry be read and touch someone’s heart today.

May someone find peace and understanding that addiction is very real. If we make it out, we have to fight for our life and remember how real addiction is because one wrong thought, decision or choice and we are gone again quickly with no guarantee we will make it out again.

I write this today in honor of my father, my mother and my son’s.

Inspired by memories of being a child of an alcoholic, inspired by being an alcoholic and inspired by my son and a battle he fought.

Some of us take hits harder than others, some of us have to get hit real hard. The scrapes and bruises go away and the stitches come out. This we know. May the scars on my skin and the burn etched in my mind from the 3rd taser always live on in my memory. I pray those never go away. Those memories are there to remind me how far I have came today. How capable I am to always do the next right thing. How important it is to just say NO and that NO is a complete sentence. How awareness and acceptance of all thing’s is key. How I can only love me and all of you as long as I don’t tempt fate.

Pickle juice image from 2017 after a drunk binge
The other images are from September 12th 2018
The day after my last drop of alcohol.

I tease a lot about how much pickle juice I use to drink to be able to keep drinking with everyone, and even more so by myself. I share it to remind me how sick I was. How it worked for a little while but for someone who drinks like me it’s only a matter of time that the only thing we eventually get to drink is water from the top of a steel toilet tank in a jail cell. If we are lucky.

An image of a jail cell. This one looks fairly clean because you can not see the bugs crawling around.

In honor of National Overdose Awareness day my writing prompt was easy to choose. Hard to write through tears, but definitely worth the work. I share this glimpse of hope from my story in honor of those we love and have lost. I didn’t believe I was an alcoholic or that alcoholism and addiction could be genetic. Even after my father died of alcohol poison and my mother went to jail drunk a time or two. It has killed and stolen the life of several of my relatives. Today I share this with you in honor of all of them. I didn’t see how true it was even after I chased the medical examiner’s report of my father and saw his blood alcohol content. I still didn’t believe mental health was important even after I received and read my father’s Veteran’s hospital medical records that I fought to obtain. See we tend not to believe something until we experience it. I get that more then ever.

I keep hope knowing those who have walked before us, who have left us too soon, and who are recovering today always leave a mark on a heart somewhere.

P.S. For those who enjoyed us more when we were drunk and fun. I’m sorry you feel that way and May God Bless Your Heart.

The link below I found relative to this post and clearly spelled out. We all have an opinion, mine just falls in line with what is written in the link below.


It only takes one person to make a difference for one person. To influence, promote and possibly steer someone in another direction. You may not even see the effect someone has had on you for years to come and vice versa. May you hold on to those who made a difference for you and to those you can inspire today.

May you get to write your own story before someone else has to.

I say this as I am working on a memoir for my own father. May he rest in peace.

Douglas Lee Nill. Gone but NEVER forgotten.

Photos of Douglas Lee Nill
Bottom right with his children
Top right with his Grandfather Herman Johnson.

2020 Smith, Lynn Rilean


  1. broadmoorkarate says:

    I am a child again as I read this. With my little stuffed animal next to me, praying to god that would my dad would make it home safely.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I went there too. I don’t like it there but I know I have to go there to remember that I didn’t go down this path in vain.


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