whatamess,
I remember distinctly being 5, my bedroom was on the other end of the house from the bathroom, I had to cross thorugh the living room (where my dad, the enabler, & physical abuser) was trying to watch the news, by the kitchen where my mother would stand and drink and crab at my father. This was a mine field of epic proportions, I would wait untol I was about to pee my pants and try and ninja my way through without being noticed, never failed, mom would set dad off, they would start arguing and I would be right in the crossfire, soon it was my fault, often either a beating, a swift kick in the pants, or some nasty comment would follow, stupid, not good enough, too noisy, too moody, it did not matter, it could be my fault that vietnam was going bad that day or the sun was too bright. I tried to stay outside as long as I could, I hated winter because I would be forced in by dark or cold, I had a little tree in my yard that I sat in, I could read, or dream about not being the cause of all our problems, it never really got better until I got old enough to work and drive.
Kids assume everything is their fault, telling them otherwise is pointless, the only thing you can do is model the best behavior you can, I don't know which is worse violent enbaler/co-dependent or acid tongued alcoholic, I would have gladly traded Monty Hall for what was behind door number 3.