It was never mine to hold

For as long as I can remember, Dad’s alcohol use caused havoc in our family.

Dad will never acknowledge he has a problem with alcohol. There is always another reason for his problems. Or someone else to blame.

I’ve spent years craving validation from somewhere that I wasn’t making it all up or exaggerating how we lived. Being an adult child of an alcoholic parent is as difficult as being a small child, just different.

Caught in the familiar battle

Dad’s in his 80’s now. I have no idea how he’s made it this far. I’m caught in the familiar battle between loyalty (keeping the secret) and the need to own my truth: I am a child of an alcoholic.

I was constantly on the lookout for signs of the next eruption. Were the raised voices just loud? Or had the fighting started again?

We could be sat eating dinner and out of nowhere Dad would rage, throwing dinner at the wall because something wasn’t quite right.

Record players and radios would be smashed to pieces, guitars broken to smithereens. Every drop of alcohol poured down the kitchen sink.

If I tried to get involved it only made it worse for mum, he’d scream that she was “turning the kids against him.”

He’d call her the most vile names and say what surely no one would ever say to someone they loved.

I learned not to interfere. I still don’t understand how someone can say such cruel words to their wife and children.

One word is all it takes

When phoning Dad, he only needs to say hello for me to know if he’s drank alcohol. One word is all it takes; it’s still my first, unconscious thought to determine if he’s under the influence of alcohol.

Always hyper vigilant, noticing the most subtle changes in someone’s mood.

Mum stayed with dad until she died and I know that choice was one she regretted.

We all spent decades hoping that one day, he’d be the husband and dad we needed. Besides, there was nowhere for mum to go to had she wanted to.

He was extremely intelligent, worked hard to provide for us all of the time. He never failed to go to work. I don’t recall him missing a single day.

I’ve never known him not to work. Fiercely proud, extremely self-conscious and lacking any skills to socialise despite the front he put on.

He often exaggerated his achievements because of a constant need for approval and inflated recognition. I’ve always sensed he was never that comfortable in his own skin.

He was never really present

For years he would withdraw from family life, choosing to spend time alone drinking rather than be with us.

He always provided for us, splashing out to make sure there was a big stash of presents under the Christmas tree. We’d go on a trip to the seaside most summers, but he was never really present.

I wrote letters to him begging for us to talk, so we could be like a “proper” father and daughter. I was told not to be silly.

While writing this, as an adult with my own children, I still offer to visit. He tells me not to. I don’t know why I keep reaching out, to keep being pushed away.

I’ve always wanted for him to be able to admit there’s a problem, to help him get the help he needs to live a better life.

Secrets and lies

Mum did her best but married to an alcoholic she was always walking on eggshells to try to keep the peace. There’s was a lot of “don’t tell your dad”. Secrets and lies.

The home revolved around his fragility, his mood, his alcohol consumption or sobriety (because when he stopped drinking, it was a different kind of awful).

I’m in no way blaming either of them, and I love them. But while they did their best, they definitely didn’t do what was best for me. I struggle to understand the choices they made even more now I’m a parent.

I learnt from an early age not to question, not to feel emotions good or bad. Not to ask for help, crying was for cry babies. That I was too sensitive, too emotional and meeting my needs as a child come secondary to others.

Be grateful. Look at everything you have. The presents. Two parents at home. Food on the table when kids were starving in third world countries.

I had no compass

By the time I reached my early teens, I was regularly drinking and started stumbling through relationships that were mostly troublesome or abusive. I had no compass, no guidance, no parenting.

I was always told how mature I was for my age. The reality is I had no choice but to grow up before I was I was ready. I had no one to turn to. I was on my own.

Dads drinking got worse, mum and dad’s relationship got worse. I was mums support network and seeing her in that abusive marriage destroyed me.

But there was nothing I could do apart from be there to listen.

I spent years drinking to the point of blacking out in my teens and twenties. Drinking myself to the point of oblivion was normal to me, and I was never given any guidance to show or tell me otherwise.

My drinking was dangerous but I didn’t care, and no one else seemed to either.

If only someone had reached in

I wish there had been someone who was really there for me. Someone who would pull me out of the hole I was sinking in.

Desperately needing help I approached my GP who immediately prescribed anti depressants, which only served to confirm I was the broken one. The problem was me.

I was the one who needed medication to cope. I’m bitter that no one saw beyond my mental health and the only help I got was a prescription. If only someone had reached in.

There was no wider family or friends aware of what was happening. There was no one close enough who I could ask to help me.

I was a child desperately needing help, instead I was given a prescription of antidepressants.

I couldn’t function

I went on to marry my own alcoholic and wound up in an abusive marriage without realising.

How could I not have realised that drinking vodka at 8am in the morning? Or drinking beer all day long was not a good relationship with alcohol?

Desperate to be accepted, loved, I joined in with this behaviour for years. I was never beaten. His manipulation was more subtle and he broke me down until my metal health was so deep in the gutter.

I couldn’t function. The thought of spending the rest of my life in a relationship that was quickly headed in the same direction as my parents was a massive wake up call.

I broke the mould and chose not to live like that. I left and started to put myself back together.

I’ve also finally found a therapist who has helped me see I was never broken, has given me space to finally find my truth. To let go of the weight of everyone else’s shame, it was never mine to hold.

I really struggle because I know alcoholism is a cruel disease often out of the person’s control. But to carry on despite the hurt it radiates to those who you’re supposed to love, it’s heartbreaking and I do resent him for that. So starts all the guilt for even thinking that, because it’s not his fault.

Home feels like the place I always wanted it to be

I stopped drinking over a decade ago, having only an occasional drink now. I’m in a happy loving relationship, I have a wonderful daughter, and home feels like the place I always wanted it to be.

I grieve because my daughter hasn’t got doting grandparents in her life; she is loved by him but he doesn’t spend time with us and asks us not to visit.

I lost mum, and life with Dad will always be complicated. I am starting to believe I am finally safe and loved at home.

My greatest accomplishment by far is knowing I am a good parent; and exactly who I needed when I was my daughters age.

Sally

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