They didn’t choose to be alcoholics

Addiction has devastated my family twice. I lost my dad, Michael, in July 2022, and my maternal grandma, Sylvia, died from addiction when I was just a baby. I have a lot of compassion for my dad and my grandma. I know they didn’t choose to be alcoholics, no one does.

I grew up in a very loving, caring family where alcohol was never really an issue. Growing up, my dad was my best friend. We had so many good times. He was caring and sensitive, and I loved him very much. 

The devastation of addiction

My dad always struggled with his mental health. He was very deep, he had PTSD from his job as a Police Officer and had unresolved trauma because of childhood abuse. It was when he retired from the police force in 2006 that things really began to go downhill, and so began his battle with addiction.

It started with him drinking every night; one bottle of wine became two, and sometimes, three. Over time, it spiralled into something we didn’t see coming and he was drinking a lot more on top of this.

What we didn’t realise was that he had become physically dependent on alcohol. He needed alcohol like he needed water.

Trying to get help

When I first tried to raise my worries with him, he reacted badly. By his own admission, he was ashamed. However, he eventually took the huge step and admitted that he had an addiction to alcohol. We set out on a journey, as a family, to get some support.

I naively thought I could just take him to the Doctor’s and that they would wave a magic wand and that he would recover.

But things only got worse, and we endured years of what I can only describe as chaos and hell.

My dad received support from recovery partnerships. He completed a 12-week abstinence programme and did several medical detoxes but he always started drinking again. Each time it became worse and his behaviour more extreme. 

My dad left the family home and lived in hotels and halfway houses, often getting himself into trouble and fighting. He ended up living in sheltered accommodation, barely ate, didn’t socialise, didn’t wash, he just existed. His world revolved entirely around alcohol. Nothing else appeared to matter.

I spent years thinking every day would be his last

He had many hospital admissions. I spent years thinking every day would be his last, knowing that his addiction would be the cause of his death. I was in a permanent state of fight or flight mode, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t take a serious toll on my mental health. 

When he drank, his demons took over. He became a different person. He would turn against the people he loved the most and do anything he could to gain sympathy from those who would enable him.

The man who once saw himself as the protector of his girls, me, mum and his granddaughter Lily, became a vulnerable adult under the care of social services because his behaviour was so unsafe, and he was no longer able to look after himself.

Sadly, his vulnerability also left him open to others taking advantage of him. He was easily influenced by others. If someone agreed to buy him alcohol, he would agree to things he would never have done when he was sober. 

He never gave up hope

It was only when his liver started to fail and he was physically unable to drink that he stopped. He was so proud that he had stopped drinking. He would tell everyone how long he had gone without a drink and that he would never drink again, but sadly, it was too late. Despite being so unwell, he never gave up hope of getting better and making plans for a brighter future. 

In July 2022, the alcohol took over, and my dad lost his battle. He died alone in hospital. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I was left to deal with an overwhelming influx of conflicting emotions: sadness, guilt, anger, regret and relief.

Understanding I wasn’t alone

I still find every day a struggle, but I am slowly learning to process everything in my own time. I am lucky to have had an amazing support network around me, something I am aware that not everyone has. Not everyone has been supportive though, I’ve lost a few people along the way.

I only became aware of Nacoa after my dad’s death when I found myself searching social media for people who were going through similar experiences to me. Their stories resonated with me and helped me understand that I wasn’t alone.

I wanted to raise awareness and to do something to raise vital funds to support others going through what my family have gone through.

Helping others

On 13th April, me, my husband and friends walked the Northumberland Coast Marathon to raise funds for Nacoa in memory of my dad, Michael. 

It wasn’t plain sailing. We had gale-force winds, hailstones, sandstorms, quicksand, huge blisters, and my husband fell and broke his wrist just after mile 15 and was taken to hospital! We carried on without him and completed the walk, raising £1,360 for Nacoa.

I would like to think my dad would be proud of what I have achieved. I hope that sharing my story will help others to know that they are not alone and that there is help out there. 

Lois

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