I became obsessed about being ‘normal’ and I craved things that seemed normal
I kind of treated her illness as my illness, as though we were both alcoholics.
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I kind of treated her illness as my illness, as though we were both alcoholics.
I am still haunted by those childhood memories of my father’s drinking.
We never went without food, clothes, necessities, but we did go without guidance.
My teenage years were blighted by alcohol having a higher priority than me.
I know what it means to live in poverty with parents who spend first on alcohol and cigarettes.
I don’t think you ever recover from growing up with an alcoholic parent. What is interesting is how far you go to hide it.
Us 3 lived on the pub doorsteps with bottles of lemonade sent out every hour.
I don’t hate my Mum anymore, I’m over the anger, I think what prevails is an overwhelming sense of sadness.
My sister and I have been the children of an alcoholic since we can remember.
I stood in silence next to her bed, experiencing a succession of emotions. Disappointment. Anger. Rejection.
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