Learning to build a life of my own
I was twelve when a counsellor told me that my mum was addicted to alcohol. My father had taken me to see her, but I wasn’t prepared for those words.
It felt as though someone had placed a backpack weighing a tonne on my shoulders. My thoughts went straight to my little sister. She was still at home. Who would look after her?
By then, I already knew what it meant to take care of someone while still being a child myself. My parents had divorced when I was five. Later, my mum had another relationship, and my beloved sister was born.
I hoped things would get better. Instead, Mum began disappearing at night, then for whole days. At ten, I was changing nappies and learning to cook.
The responsibility I carried was too much
As I grew older, those responsibilities followed me into the way I related to other people. I struggled with closeness without understanding why. I wanted to feel loved, yet trusting someone felt frightening. For a long time, I felt sad and low.
Then I began learning about faith. Church became a place where I felt safe. Nobody shouted at me. Nobody was drunk. I could spend time with people without being afraid of what might happen next.
Later, a book about adult children of alcoholics helped me recognise patterns in my own life. I encountered the word “codependency” and began to understand how deeply my mum’s addiction had affected me.
So much of my attention had been focused on her needs that I had lost sight of my own.
Understanding this was a beginning
With professional support, friendship and faith, I gradually learned to notice my feelings and needs. I practised asking for help and accepting it when it was offered.
I began learning about boundaries, and about caring for someone without taking responsibility for their whole life.
These things did not come naturally. Sometimes I slipped back into familiar habits. I am still learning. But little by little, there was more room in my life for me.
While studying social work, I began sharing my story in schools across Slovakia. I wanted young people living in similar circumstances to hear someone speak openly about experiences that can feel impossible to explain. Over time, I spoke to more than 2,000 students.
After several years, I needed a break from speaking
I also spent five months in Australia, giving myself time to rest.
After returning home, I focused more on individual counselling. Another opportunity brought something unexpected into my life: a tiny house that I now rent out as a place where people can slow down and spend time in nature.
It has a meaning for me beyond the work itself. I have created a place like the one I needed when life felt overwhelming. A place to pause, breathe and have some space.
Today, I have more peace in my heart. I laugh a lot. I enjoy cooking, dancing and spending time with people I love. I am learning to let them close, even when part of me still feels afraid.
My life holds both the past and these new possibilities. There are still things to work through, but there is also joy, connection and freedom to make choices of my own.
For a long time, I could not imagine living differently. Now I know that another way of living is possible.
If you are still struggling, you deserve support, rest and room for your own hopes too. You do not have to figure it all out alone.
I wrote Rock Bottom to share more of this journey with people who might recognise something of themselves in it.
Laura
To read more experience stories, please go to Support & Advice.
