Earlier this year I had the opportunity to listen to a speech given by the head of the Catholic church in Australia.

He spoke for some time about sinners and how many live with the consequences of their sins. And then he referred to alcoholics as falling under the “sinner” category.

Excuse me? Alcoholics are sinners?

I struggled to keep my cool, but I managed to listen enough to hear him say that alcoholics are committing a sin by drinking to excess and that they live with the consequences of their sin with liver disease and brain damage.

Excuse me, alcoholics are sinners?

As someone who grew up with an alcoholic, I believe I have every right to categorise alcoholics in the same basket as sinners. But you know what? They’re NOT sinners.

Alcoholics have poor mental health. They have a disease, if you will. Like I’ve said here before about my own mum, “whether it [alcoholism] was self-induced (addiction) or an existing condition (mental health) is like asking about the chicken or the egg.”

Understandably, the social and financial impact of alcoholism is huge – the 2008 report “The avoidable costs of alcohol abuse in Australia and the potential benefits of effective policies to reduce the social costs of alcohol” is actually an interesting read (or maybe it’s just me) and it puts the costs of alcoholism in Australia in the millions of dollars (whether this is an annual amount, I’m not sure – clearly my report-reading skillz aren’t so great).

I would dearly love to rant on for pages and pages about my experiences with an alcoholic and why I disagree with George, but I need to protect my family, who I have hurt already by being so open here about our mum.

But I am torn because I want to dispel the stigma associated with alcoholism. Because a lot of it is wrong and unfair. Alcoholics are many things, but alcoholics are NOT sinners. And someone with such high standing in a religious organisation should know better.

Amen.

It’s hard to find the words to explain what the last two months has been like. The stress, denial, acceptance; the explaining.

Mum was sick. Whether it was self-induced (addiction) or an existing condition (mental health) is like asking about the chicken or the egg. I want to be open about it for my own selfish reasons, but also to increase awareness, especially to people who are “victims” like me. But I don’t want to hurt anyone by my actions, either (i.e., sorry if all this seems vague and/or obscure).

On the day that mum went into hospital, I sat with her while she was told the cold hard facts of her need to stay in hospital. I watched her eyes as she realised that decisions were being made for her. Mum was only meant to be in hospital for a few days, but complications turned it into a seven-week ordeal. Mum’s medical team cared for her and made her well enough to leave the hospital. They determined that she couldn’t live on her own. That she needed to be in a nursing home.

But nursing homes are for Grandmas. Not mums. Not my mum. She’s too young. But we learned what she would need to stay well, and knew that a nursing home was for the best. It would mean we could sleep at night knowing that she’s getting the care she needs. And she’s getting that care now. We were so lucky to get mum placed into a nursing home that can care for her so well. I know so many people who are struggling while they care for their parents who are in a much worse position than mum (and us).

It’s strange that we’ve gone through so many processes that I associate with someone who’s passed away – taking over financials, cancelling the newspaper delivery, emptied out mum’s house – and we’ve even moved through some of the stages of grieving – yet mum’s still sitting in the nursing home, waiting for her next visitor.