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Probably since I was about 6 years old my dad has been an alcoholic--I say from the birth of my youngest brother, but I'm not sure. He didn't beat us, but he did get physical a few times. Once threw the middle sibling on concrete and also lifted and pinned him by the neck, screaming in his face. Once nearly knocked me out of the parked car because he was mad about something about me going to Sunday school? I can't remember why he was ever mad, but I'm sure that it never made sense. As a kid I tried to make sense of it, but I know better now.

He got away with it and it was at its worst when my mom had really bad hours at work. She would work all weekend, so I loathed the weekends. It meant spending all weekend scared, feeling anxious. It meant having to spend it all with him, and I would be the mediator because I was the oldest. Our mom also worked from the time our dad got home until very late at night, so he could get drunk after work and do whatever he felt like. Drive drunk with us in it, tell us horrible stories, claim that he fed us dinner already and I would have to remind him that he didn't, etc.

Of course our mom must've suspected this for a long time but I guess she was too scared to ask her little kids "is something wrong with Dad?" But when we were much older and when I was naive enough to think that our dad was getting better, me and the middle brother had more honest conversations with her about it.

I was always close with my mom and spent many hours talking with her when she wasn't working. But I was also scared of her sometimes because she took out her anxiety and stress on us, and often put too much pressure on me. Growing up and being an adult now, I realise that she was just extremely unhappy with her life and had an endless ocean of bitterness towards our dad. She had moved away from her family when she married him and I never remember her having many friends growing up. I don't think she ever told her family about our dad--I think she was too embarrassed to let people find out what was happening at home. I think all of us thought that if we just didn't talk about it, it wasn't really happening.

When I finally moved away from home for school I felt a deep guilt to leave my younger brothers. I felt like I was their protector and I was abandoning them. Being further away did make me less aware of how bad the situation remained at home, but it didn't help any of the leftover baggage I had. I've realised I have trust issues--big surprise, since my dad to this day has never admitted to me that he has a drinking problem. I also have a nagging guilt over being disgusted by my dad, and also wanting to pretend that reality is not reality and he is fine. Even when I think everything is the most fine at home--when I go back home to visit, he always puts on a good act for me, the guest--I can't act normal with him. I want to constantly tax him for what he's done to our family. We've never been allowed to be normal. My little brother shouldn't have take away his keys because he's too drunk to drive to the bank. More than angry for what he's done to me, I'm angry for how he's destroyed his relationships with his sons and for what he's done to our mother, his wife. Sometimes I wish she would just leave him--but it terrifies me, because then it would be real.

For a long time I not only decided for myself to never drink, I demanded those around me to feel the same. I even broke up with a boyfriend over him drinking two beers--we were underage, but of course that's a ridiculous expectation to have of another human being; that they should carry your baggage too. I felt physically nauseous and ill whenever I was around guys drinking, and it wasn't until I was finally convinced by some friends to try socially drinking for myself did I realise that humans can actually enjoy and be normal when drinking. Since my mom was too scared to ever have alcohol in the house (of course our dad sneaked it in all the time,) I never was around adults drinking in a typical way. That was a pretty big break through for me, and I've slowly been able to accept what is and is not normal behaviour regarding alcohol.

I'm not sure exactly why I'm writing this, but I already feel better having done so. I've never written down what I really think, or this story of ours at all. Only scribbled "I HATE YOU!!!!!"s all over my childhood notebooks, screaming for him to care. The saga is still ongoing--just tonight I had to have a video call with my mom interrupted by "drunk dad". But of course, he will claim later that our mom somehow had prevented him from being a part of the call--he is the most paranoid and manipulative person I've ever known. I'm sick of this being what is hurting our family and stunting us. But it still scares me to death that this is a reality we must all face. I wish I could make it all go away for my family, but it won't and we have to deal with the consequences.

Thank you for reading, and I guess I'm really just wondering who all can relate to these things and what happened to you? I've been impressed with the wisdom and understanding from the posts here. I hope that you all find some peace.