Why I’m taking part in the Big Nacoa Walk
I’m taking part in the Big Nacoa Walk 2026 with my husband Rick, and for me this is deeply personal.
I am an adult child of an alcoholic.
My dad, Ted Mansell, died on 24th May 2018, a date that stays with me, not least because it was also Eric Cantona’s birthday.
As a lifelong Manchester United fan, football was a big part of who he was, and George Best was his biggest hero.
Like George Best, alcohol ultimately took more than it ever gave.
Alcohol is rarely the whole story
My dad was a complicated man. But he was also incredibly smart. I always admired the way he thought, he would give you good advice, and I see a lot of myself in him.
That’s part of what made it so difficult at the time to understand how alcohol could have such a hold on him, when there was still so much life left, with his family, his grandchildren, his business, and himself.
What I’ve come to understand over the last eight years is that alcohol is rarely the whole story.
Underneath it, there is often shame. Unspoken experiences. And, in many cases, things like undiagnosed neurodiversity.
You don’t have the language as a child
I was diagnosed with ADHD three years ago, and looking back, it’s likely my dad had similar traits.
We now know there are strong links between ADHD and addiction, but at the time, none of that was understood or talked about.
What was felt, though, very clearly, was the impact.
As a child, you don’t have the language for it. But you feel it.
The loneliness. The sense that you’re on your own. That everything somehow rests on you.
At six, seven, eight years old, that isn’t the reality. But it becomes your reality.
And that feeling can stay with you long into adulthood, shaping how you think, how you relate to people, and how you carry responsibility.
I am not alone
For me, one of the biggest shifts over time has been the slow realisation that I am not alone.
But when something has been that ingrained for so long, that realisation doesn’t come easily.
That’s why Nacoa’s work is so important.
They give children a chance to understand what’s happening around them. To talk. To feel seen. And to know that what they’re experiencing isn’t their fault.
That kind of support can change the trajectory of a life.
Taking part in this walk is a way of recognising where I’ve come from, but also trying to contribute to something that helps others who are still in it.
If sharing this helps someone feel less alone, that matters. And if it helps raise funds so Nacoa can continue their work, even better.
Angela
To read more experience stories, go to Support & Advice.
If you would to donate to Angela’s fundraising page, please go to her JustGiving page.
