The sun hung low in the July sky, and the air was thick with humidity. I sat on the patio, watching lizards dart across the pavement and listening to the cicadas scream. EMTs were putting my dad on a stretcher inside my house while by neighbors comforted my mother. I watched from afar because I was told to stay outside; I was terrified and confused. A few hours later, I was told that my dad had a blood alcohol level of .40, which should have killed him. That is considered to be the “lethal dose” amongst adults. I was twelve at the time.
He struggled with alcoholism in the past. He would hide it from me and my mother- stashing his liquor in his car, the garage, or in the closet. When I was young, I cleared out a space in my closet and sat in there when my parents fought. While waiting out the fights, I would scribble my hopes and dreams on the wall. I would stay up late into the night, praying he wouldn’t leave. The fighting was one thing, but the worst part of all of it was the lying. He would relapse, go back to Alcoholics Anonymous, and promise to never drink again. It was a never-ending cycle in my childhood. I always wondered what why he hated being sober around my mother and me. Was it my fault? Was it that horrible to be with me? My ability to trust in others was destroyed at an early age with every lie. I encountered every form of betrayal and anger before I was old enough to wear a bra.
I am talking about this now because I am finally comfortable enough to do so. My father’s alcoholism was not my fault. Twelve-year old me was not the reason he drank. His alcoholism is not on me. Addiction is a disease. It’s something that takes everything in one’s body to resist. It plagues the body and mind while appearing as a sweet comfort.
My father’s addiction to alcohol caused me to grow up quickly, lose trust in everyone, struggle to find my self-worth, and has crept into my ability to form relationships. Finding my identity beyond this has proven to be difficult, but I am working through it day by day. I’ve forgiven my father. He has been sober for eight months now. Addiction should not be taken lightly. If you are the child of an addict, please, please know that it is not your fault. You might have had to grow up faster than your peers, but you are resilient and strong. It’s okay to take time to forgive and to work through your pain. Your fear of trust, vulnerability and conflict will fade with time. Their addiction won’t be the death of you, I promise.
