We accepted this as normal

I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

We accepted this as normal

I always knew my Dad liked a drink more than most. As a child, he was always the life and soul, and our house was fun.  It was a joke that he passed out at BBQs, tore up a bathroom carpet in the middle of the night, or fell asleep on the train to the end of the line. I adored him.

My parents separated when I was a teenager, partially to do with his increased drinking. After that things got worse, and I don’t think I ever saw my Dad without a drink again. He had a serious of disastrous relationships, that all involved alcohol, violence and acrimonious endings.

I lived from my late teens in a perpetual state of anxiety that he would die. That he would drink drive and kill himself or someone else, that he would get involved in a fight, that he would fall down the stairs. The list was as endless as my imagination. The last thing I would do at night was to check my phone had the ringer on, so I did not miss a phone call to go and help.

And all this time we never spoke about the fact he was an alcoholic. We studiously avoided that word. I don’t know exactly when I realised. He had a good job, disposable income, a home and a sports car. He was well travelled and articulate. I had long used this to justify why he could not be an alcoholic. I remember speaking to an AA advisor on the phone, explaining that he couldn’t be an alcoholic, not really, as he did not put vodka on his cornflakes.

In my early twenties he went through a very bad patch; another relationship breakdown led to a suicide attempt, lots of calls in the middle of the night, and the loss of his job.  At this point he really crossed the line from functioning to non-functioning alcoholic. This time I sought help from Al-Anon and even went to a meeting or two. But there was nobody there like me, no COAs, mainly spouses who were older and living a very different experience. So, on we went. Avoiding, ignoring, worrying and judging.

At my wedding, we had the speeches before the meal, in the knowledge that he would be too drunk to speak afterwards. We accepted this as normal. At my daughter’s Christening we had a row in the car park because he had too much to drink to drive. But drive he did, and we let him, preferring to keep our fingers crossed that he would not cause an accident rather than let him stay with us overnight.

He used to come and stay at Christmas and sleep in my young son’s bedroom. It was so stressful. His car would pull into the drive, and I would feel a mixture of relief that he had not killed anyone en route, and utter dread about the next few days. I would check his bag and find bottles of “water” in there, where he had decanted vodka to get him through the night.

I would hear the plastic bottle lids hit the wood floor in the early hours, and rarely slept when he was with us. He would never get up to see his Grandchildren’s presents being opened, and always start an argument on Christmas night. My son would complain that his room smelt bad after Dad had left, and we had to air it for hours until the stale alcohol smell had gone. But the alternative was that he would spend the holidays alone, and that was worse.

My Dad died in September 2020. He died alone, and we did not find out for several days. The police came to the door. He had not called for help. He was 68. He had a heart attack, which I like, because I can tell people that. And I can leave out the bit about why his heart stopped if I want to. That he was an alcoholic, that his drinking caused his death. That my Dad was an alcoholic, that I am that person.

I know it wasn’t my fault, I know that I could not have helped him unless he wanted help. I know all these things, yet it is still really tough. I am in my forties with my own children and it is still really tough. There is no age limit on being a COA.

Amy

Amy is running a London Royal Parks Challenge to raise funds and awareness for children affected by their parent’s drinking.

Support her on JustGiving here.

Categories:

We accepted this as normal

I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

We accepted this as normal

I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • About Nacoa

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • About Nacoa

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Hello!

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Nacoa branding - style guide

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Contact us Person looking at Nacoa's website for people affected by a parent's drinking to show different ways to contact for support or to get involved with the charity to help other children of alcoholics

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Governance

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • History

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Nacoa Helpline

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Calling the helpline

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Helpline FAQs

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Managing browser history

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Monitoring & evaluation

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Policies & procedures

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Our people

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Abie Dunlop

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Amanda Brett

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Amy Dickson

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Carolyn Jones

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Ceri Walker

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Dr Anne-Marie Barron

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Dr Piers Henriques

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Euan Graham Euan Graham

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Hilary Henriques MBE

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Jane Elson

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Josh Connolly

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Katy Stafford

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Laura Leadbeater

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Laurence McAllister Alleyne

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Maya Parker MA

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Peter Irwin

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Patrons & ambassadors

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • The Nacoa Promise

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Experiences Search Result

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Get involved

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Donate or become a member

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • About Gift Aid

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Become a corporate member

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Become a member

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Welcome new member

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Donate in memory

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Gift in your will

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Give in celebration

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Make a donation

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Thank you!

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • More ways to give

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Fundraising

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Thank you for signing up to Big Nacoa Walk 2024! Big Nacoa Walk thumbnail

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Raise awareness

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Sponsored events

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Volunteering

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Nacoa Volunteer Application Form

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Message boards

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Log In

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Message board rules of conduct

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Start a new topic

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Nacoa: Helping everyone affected by their parent's drinking Nacoa UK Helping everyone affected by their parent's drinking

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • News & events

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Events

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Features

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Latest

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • News

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Privacy and cookies policy

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Research & resources

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Books, videos and media

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Nacoa professionals training

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Nacoa publications

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Research

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Widening Access

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Some Punjabi and Sikh parents drink too much…

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Support & advice

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Adults

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Books, videos and media

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • FAQs

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Help and advice

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Information

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Personal experiences

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Children

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Books, videos and media

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • FAQs

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Help and advice

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Information

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Personal experiences

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Concerned others & professionals

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Books, videos and media

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • FAQs

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Help and advice

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Information

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Personal experiences

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Young people

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Books, videos and media

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • FAQs

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Help and advice

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Information

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Personal experiences

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

  • Topics

    I know that I could not have helped, but it is still really tough.

We accepted this as normal

I always knew my Dad liked a drink more than most. As a child, he was always the life and soul, and our house was fun.  It was a joke that he passed out at BBQs, tore up a bathroom carpet in the middle of the night, or fell asleep on the train to the end of the line. I adored him.

My parents separated when I was a teenager, partially to do with his increased drinking. After that things got worse, and I don’t think I ever saw my Dad without a drink again. He had a serious of disastrous relationships, that all involved alcohol, violence and acrimonious endings.

I lived from my late teens in a perpetual state of anxiety that he would die. That he would drink drive and kill himself or someone else, that he would get involved in a fight, that he would fall down the stairs. The list was as endless as my imagination. The last thing I would do at night was to check my phone had the ringer on, so I did not miss a phone call to go and help.

And all this time we never spoke about the fact he was an alcoholic. We studiously avoided that word. I don’t know exactly when I realised. He had a good job, disposable income, a home and a sports car. He was well travelled and articulate. I had long used this to justify why he could not be an alcoholic. I remember speaking to an AA advisor on the phone, explaining that he couldn’t be an alcoholic, not really, as he did not put vodka on his cornflakes.

In my early twenties he went through a very bad patch; another relationship breakdown led to a suicide attempt, lots of calls in the middle of the night, and the loss of his job.  At this point he really crossed the line from functioning to non-functioning alcoholic. This time I sought help from Al-Anon and even went to a meeting or two. But there was nobody there like me, no COAs, mainly spouses who were older and living a very different experience. So, on we went. Avoiding, ignoring, worrying and judging.

At my wedding, we had the speeches before the meal, in the knowledge that he would be too drunk to speak afterwards. We accepted this as normal. At my daughter’s Christening we had a row in the car park because he had too much to drink to drive. But drive he did, and we let him, preferring to keep our fingers crossed that he would not cause an accident rather than let him stay with us overnight.

He used to come and stay at Christmas and sleep in my young son’s bedroom. It was so stressful. His car would pull into the drive, and I would feel a mixture of relief that he had not killed anyone en route, and utter dread about the next few days. I would check his bag and find bottles of “water” in there, where he had decanted vodka to get him through the night.

I would hear the plastic bottle lids hit the wood floor in the early hours, and rarely slept when he was with us. He would never get up to see his Grandchildren’s presents being opened, and always start an argument on Christmas night. My son would complain that his room smelt bad after Dad had left, and we had to air it for hours until the stale alcohol smell had gone. But the alternative was that he would spend the holidays alone, and that was worse.

My Dad died in September 2020. He died alone, and we did not find out for several days. The police came to the door. He had not called for help. He was 68. He had a heart attack, which I like, because I can tell people that. And I can leave out the bit about why his heart stopped if I want to. That he was an alcoholic, that his drinking caused his death. That my Dad was an alcoholic, that I am that person.

I know it wasn’t my fault, I know that I could not have helped him unless he wanted help. I know all these things, yet it is still really tough. I am in my forties with my own children and it is still really tough. There is no age limit on being a COA.

Amy

Amy is running a London Royal Parks Challenge to raise funds and awareness for children affected by their parent’s drinking.

Support her on JustGiving here.

You are not alone

Remember the Six "C"s

I didn’t cause it
I can’t control it
I can’t cure it
I can take care of myself
I can communicate my feelings
I can make healthy choices

Resources you may like

Keep in touch

To find out more about our events and activities, subscribe to our mailing list

We use Mailchimp as our marketing platform. By subscribing, you acknowledge that your information will be transferred to Mailchimp for processing. Learn more about Mailchimp’s privacy practices.