I remember when I was 4 years old, my mom loading my brother, 2 years old, and me into the car with a bottle of vodka or gin in the back seat where she could reach it, and going out searching endlessly all over town late at night looking for my bio-dad.
He was usually found in a bar, and we would witness confrontation after confrontation.
My mom thought we were asleep (as well we should have been).
That is the most outstanding early memory, but I have thousands more.
The begging, the pleading, the crying. (my mother).
The silences, pregnant with tension.
The inability to ask a simple question of either parent at any given time, no matter our natural childish curiosity. The inability to wish for a Barbie or any toy because we could overhear our parents 'discussing' whether money should or should not be spent on liquor/beer.
Mom being so excited that Dad wasn't drinking and thinking that she had to reconnect with him, FINALLY, and pushing us aside once again.
Our entire focus was on the alcoholism. Everything was his way or the highway, just to keep peace, whether anyone 'said' it or not....we knew.
This lasted well through my 20s.