Imagine you are a beautiful little girl. You have long blonde hair and hopeful little blue eyes. You came into the world with such a sweet innocence. You were born and it is a day to be remembered… because it was just days later that your father gets pulled over for a DUI taking you home from the hospital.
Alcoholism is something that is extremely common. There are 3 million cases if not more any given year. You got to hear my story of suffering through alcoholism… now I’m going to tell you my story of suffering through a parent's alcoholism.
Most children get to fall asleep to a bedtime story and the sound of their parents wishing them a good night. Unfortunately, the way that I remember falling asleep was to the sound of plates smashing in the kitchen and my mother crying. Sometimes I would wake up and sleep outside their bedroom just in case she needed me.
My father was not only a drunk/drug addict, he was also one of the angriest people I have ever met. I would always tip toe around him in fear that he would get upset. I was sad and quiet as a child. I loved to draw and I loved to read. I feel like it would take me to places in my head that were sweet and childlike. I felt as though my surroundings were no place to make me feel like I was having a normal childhood.
You know that you’re different too. You hear all the other children at school talking about family dinners and their parents being strict… I used to make things up just to feel like I fit in.
I never doubt for a second that my father loves me… he just loves the bottle more.
But regardless of the way that I was feeling I still had hope. My little heart, covered in bruises and dirt still continued to beat. My father, when it came to work, was highly functioning. He could take his breakfast shots and still manage to run his construction business. It was usually when he came home that he became what seemed like a completely different person.
I am currently twenty-six years old, and nothing has changed. Constantly being kicked out of establishments, embarrassed to be seen in public with what comes out of his mouth when he is drunk, and getting pounded with the negative things said to me when he feels there is no other target for his anger.
Needless to say, I grew up fairly quickly. I was slowly watching my father kill himself while my mother disassociated herself more and more every day. I had three other siblings and took the oldest sibling mentality very seriously.
My schooling suffered greatly. I would fall asleep in class if I decided to even go to class at all. I fell into a highly destructive depression. It had felt like the whole world was crumbling down around me and I was running back and forth exhausting myself trying to clean it up.
Emotionally I was wrecked. I was angry. I felt as though it was not fair that I carried the burden of everything in my family while just trying to be a teenager. Nobody would ever ask me how I was doing or if I was alright. My crooked little smile turned into a permanently dazed look. I was completely done.
I had my children and I vowed that I would never let them suffer through anything that I was put through. I am not a perfect mother. How could I know how to be when I was not even taught basic ways to live? I was neglected and then abandoned. I have been on my own since I was sixteen years old. Between group homes and living on the street, there was nothing left in me to care. When I had my son was like the birth of a new me… and since that day I have vowed to make sure my children know that they are loved every day of their lives.
They know their grandpa. He is not allowed to be around them alone, and unfortunately, he seems alright with that. It breaks my heart to know that he won't change. If he were going to change he would have at least made an effort of some kind.
I think my last straw was when we had a family dinner out recently. My daughter grabbed his arm and pointed out his track marks. I had no idea he had even been shooting up. I felt my stomach hit the floor and my daughter said: “you have some boo-boos grandpa.”
It’s a common joke that with our last name comes craziness and drinking. This has gone on for generations. I have never been more ready to break that cycle. I managed to hide what I was going through from many people. I was able to keep people at a distance so they could not see. The memories that I have from that basement apartment hell still haunt me to this day.
If there is anyone out there struggling with a parent who has an addiction… please know that you are not alone and that I hope you find your peace.
If there is anyone out there who suspects that a child is going through this… please be a voice. Our youth is so precious and no child deserves to wake up everyday not understanding why they were born as a burden.
