My past just as an example of what not to do.
Random Guy
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Join Date: Nov 2011
Location: America
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My past just as an example of what not to do.
Warning this is stupid long. In fact I am not sure if posts have a character limit but this might do it.
For no particular reason I thought that I would share my story as far as being a child of an alcoholic. I know there are worse ones out there and I am not looking for a pity party. I just wanted to throw this out there for all of the people that I read about posting how they want to be sober for their little kids as an example of what can happen when you don’t.
In my case it was my mother and in her case it was her father, I don't know if the family history goes beyond that but I wouldn't doubt it. I never saw it as grandpa quit drinking by the time I was four but from what I have been told my grandfather was a mean ass drunk. There were chinks in the kitchen counter tops and when I asked about them I was told that was from him throwing knives at my grandmother, (no wonder they slept in different bedrooms) that and I know that the kitchen table had been through the big window of the kitchen at least twice, it was still usable (they don't make e’m like they used to LOL). So suffice to say my mom didn't grow up in the ideal environment either and carried a lot of baggage into her marriage with my father at 22. I say father because that lasted all of until I was four (according to my mom) or six (according to my father). I don't have many memories from back then and all of them but one are good ones, but I have been told that the divorce wasn't the prettiest but that is another story entirely. Thus began my mom’s second marriage and thus far I don’t remember her having a problem with alcohol, I remember it being there but I only remember my mom being drunk twice during the next six years. I am sure that it happened more often than that, but I suppose it didn’t strike me as odd then.
So then came the second divorce, and the starting of my mother’s problems to show through. First of all she always had issues controlling her anger, up and until this point I don’t recall it affecting me and my sister (not quite two years younger) but that may have been because both my father and step dad (notice I said dad) were very calm level headed people so I think that may have counterbalanced her in my early years. After that me and my sister went to live with our grandparents for a time while my mother moved to a new place to set up her own business and get a settled enough for us to join her. My grandfather as I said had quit drinking around the time I was four (there is a story behind that as well) but this was a very happy time in me and my sisters life my grandfather was never anything but kindly and proud of his grandchildren, and my grandmother is still a saint in my eyes.
My sister went first a year later and shortly thereafter I remember my grandmother receiving phone calls at 10 pm or later from my sister saying that mom was asleep in the car with empty vodka bottles, or that she was angry and hitting her across the back with a belt. Honestly at the time I chocked this up to early teenage drama queen because mom had never been like that before and my sister even though we are very close tended to be like that sometimes. Problem was, I know now that she wasn’t exaggerating or if she was it wasn’t much and it was more of my mother down playing it based on comparison with her own upbringing with my grandfather. A year later I joined and thus began the more than two years of living with my now very much alcoholic mom. By this time she had progressed into an all day drinker starting work with a 6 pack and having that finished off by noon then getting another and ending up passed out drunk by the evening. During this time she was never physically abusive, I don’t know why she was when it was just my sister but she never was when I was there. I do know that I was her “favorite” if such a term can be applied, my mom and my sister were too similar to get along very well and because of that my sister would “call my mom out” which would **** her off more. I was more of the well I am supposed to listen to my mom type which might account for that. What she did do was to constantly belittle and insult (remember the anger issues) well now there was no husband to take it out on and with the alcohol it always seemed that she was coming home drunk and ready to either yell at us or just go to sleep. Not that we made it much better, eventually me and my sister just gave up trying to placate her and just took the screaming, we figured that even if we did the dished or the laundry or whatever chore, we were going to get yelled at for something else anyway so why should we do any of it? Perhaps not the best choice but hey we were kids constantly in defensive mode. I remember constantly being told how stupid (I got straight A’s that year and was in the towns band by invite of my teacher), inept (I don’t know many 13 year olds that could cook clean do laundry ect as well as us, we had too she didn’t) and lazy (I have to give her that one) we were. So it goes without saying that these two years and what followed crushed whatever self confidence I had. Also during this time we were for lack of a better term poor, living in a flea infested one bedroom apartment with three people the only clothes that I got were from grandma on my birthday and Christmas and mom wasn’t there to make sure that the ones I wore to school were clean or without holes. The place that I now lived and went to school (my mom did make sure that I went to a better school) was fairly upscale which left me the definite outcast. Not her fault entirely but didn’t help the situation for me. I was a pretty smart kid and one distinct low point that I had in my early teen life was being called in invalid, I knew that it was used to insult me but I didn’t know what it meant, so on the same drive home I remember looking at my mom across the truck and sheepishly asking her “mom what does invalid mean?” she snapped back still angry with me over what I can’t remember she was nearly always angry at something, “it is someone that can’t take care of themselves”. Having to ask her the definition of the word that I knew had been used as an insult was a particular form of shame that stuck with me for years after. I only remember her slapping me once when I was around 14 I had physically grown up quickly and by this point was about two inches taller than my mom and I out of instinct slapped her right back. I remember the look of astonishment on her face and the instant feeling of dread and realization of what I had just done. I slept in the truck outside that night out of fear and shame. But that was the only time that ever happened.
Not to go too far into it because to do so would require a small book. Me and my sister developed looks and hand signals to inform the other of exactly how drunk she was. I never drink and drive because I don’t know how many times I just put my head down closed my eyes and hoped and maybe even prayed that we wouldn’t die. I would get done with band practice in the evening during the summer call home and hope that she would be awake and sober enough to come and pick me up. She usually wasn’t and a few times I hid out behind a tree or wherever so that the teachers would think that I was picked up when really I waited for another few hours till mom sobered up enough to remember that I was 20 miles away and had called her 6 times three hours ago waking her up each time just for her to blubber out okay I’m coming and me asking her not to go back to sleep. And lastly but not most importantly I remember feeling crushed when I got my straight A’s all year long and received an award for it upon graduation in front of the whole school and my mom knew this was happening but she was nowhere to be seen and I had to take the public transportation bus home. Might be one of the reasons that the next year I flunked two classes and eventually barley graduated high school, I just stopped trying after that year.
The time came to move again rather abruptly when she went out to the store to get some macaroni and cheese for dinner and never came back. One thing you have to understand is that my mom always thought that her personal life was none of my sisters and I’s concern so she never told us what was going on, well it turns out that on her way to get Mac and cheese she got pulled over and arrested for her fourth DUI. This was back in the 90’s when DUI’s were not quite as big of a deal legally anyway. But this last one landed her in jail for a week before she managed to come home just for enough time to get her personal affairs in order so that she could spend a 30 days in jail. I don’t know how me and my sister managed to not get put in some kind of home for that week but maybe the decided we were old enough to manage for a week and really we were. Grandma sent us some money to pay rent and buy food actually that was an awesome week, I rented video games and ate ice-cream as well as take out from my favorite restaurant almost every day. I should also mention that at this time I started experimenting with pot, something that I stopped shortly thereafter.
So anyhow back to the grandparents well grandmothers, I forgot to mention that my grandfather had died during the last year of my previous stay there. The very night my grandmother convinced him to go to the hospital after having trouble sleeping due to chest pain he has a heart attack walking into the emergency room, I guess the alcohol and smoking finally caught up to him. So anyway both me and my sister moved back in with my grandmother, waiting for our mother to join us. I didn’t notice at the time but I guess it was apparent to everyone else that knew us from before we were different people. My best friend’s mom didn’t mention it then but she told me years later that I had left an exuberant yet respectful and intelligent kid and returned a shy timid and quiet teenager.
My Grandmas health faded fast with a diagnosis of lung cancer so I think it was out of desperation that mom latched onto the first man she could get her hands on to get here out of her mother’s house. He wasn’t an alcoholic that much is true but he was definitely not a quality individual. Anyone that says they wouldn’t mind going to prison because you get free room and board and don’t have to do anything for it isn’t exactly someone that you want to learn from. Luckily me and my sister were old enough to pick up on this by now and not much if any of him rubbed off on us. The drinking and emotional abuse continued obviously, but by this point me and my sister had learned fairly well how to cope with it. Insults and yelling just rolled off of our shoulder as a regular occurrence, we learned to expect it. Also we learned how to somewhat avoid it not consistently but much more than before, also I think that by this point she started to see us not in the same light I don’t know what changed exactly but it was subtle and barley noticeable or perhaps it is just that my memory of those years is more clear than others that are overshadowed by a cloud of negativity and I was finally being able to see some positives. Mom still got angry at us especially when drinking but we were starting to stand up to it more especially my sister who was and still is a much stronger person emotionally than I am. Mostly my reaction back then and throughout the years was to just shut down and stop caring her reaction was to fight back. This lead to inevitable confrontations between her and mom sometimes getting into the physical, the day that mom came at her with a cast iron frying pan was the day my sister called it quits and called our stepdad whom we both had considered our father but she had spent more time with over the last few years than me and asked if she could live with him. He said yes and mom didn’t object so that left me. Moms third marriage (well actually fourth but the other one I blame on a drunken night in Vegas or wherever because it only lasted six months and I seem to be the only one that was informed of it) was doomed from the start and lasted about two years by this time I am about to graduate from high school and can’t get out of the house fast enough. I had experimented with alcohol during this time but never often and it was always a mix of whatever liquors that a friend of mine managed to scavenge from his parent’s liquor cabinet combined with the beers that I would take from my mother’s cases occasionally and store up until he came over. I could never stomach the liquor and so I don’t recall ever getting truly drunk during these times but definitely buzzed.
After that I moved a lot getting work where I could eventually and unfortunately, I ended up moving back in with her at the age of 19 turning into 20. I worked for her boyfriend (also an alcoholic but not violent) whom she lived with, and I got along great with, she still got angry from time to time and would go on tirades about this or that but at this point I was so used to it that it almost struck me as funny. Something would aggravate her, maybe it was me, maybe it wasn’t but it didn’t matter with her once the ball got rolling every little thing made it worse until by the end of the day she could get irate over the smallest of things. I remember being physically attacked twice which to be honest at this point I thought was funny as hell because I towered over her and there was nothing she could do. I never struck her but did push her down a couple of times during one time when she came swinging. And there was one occasion when I was helping her move during a temporary break up with her boyfriend, she had borrowed an old truck from my uncle and had warned me about something to do with driving it I can’t remember what but I failed to do it so the truck broke down. I called for her to help and when she got there nothing came out of her mouth that wasn’t insulting. I had had enough and once the truck got started drove away, called the uncle and asked if it was okay to borrow the truck then the boyfriend and asked if I could stay with him. After I calmed down I drove to where my mom was now staying and started to pack up my things she showed up in the middle of it and was nothing short of furious. Especially when I said that I was moving back with her recent ex boyfriend (they got back together) she again came in swinging. I easily was able to get away and started putting my stuff into the truck. At which point she threatened to call the truck in stolen. I told her I had permission from my uncle to borrow it, she then threatened to get her gun and shoot me, I had already thought of this and knew that the gun was at my aunts because she had left it there as collateral for a loan from them told her this and since at this point all she could do was see me off she did so, by throwing the remainder of my things into the yard. I found this nothing short of entertaining, probably not the best perspective but the one I had at the time.
Shortly after that I got out of the house for good and didn’t come back for three years. I think I called maybe five times in those three years. When I did visit home it was my standing policy even though mom was much calmer now, as she had cut back on drinking due to her new profession involving a lot of long distance driving, not to stay around her more than three days in a row. After that I noticed that the old trends of using me as a punching bag to vent all of life’s frustrations started to come back, and at this point I was having none of that. Between the end of 2003 and the beginning of 2007 I saw my mom four times I think and I must say she was starting to get better from what I saw. Her drinking was way down, she was much happier and more positive and actually liked to talk with me and I her. I think that if this had continued her and I might have been able to develop an actual relationship and maybe even her and my sister who I don’t even think saw each other more than once since she had left at 16.
Unfortunately in her case it was to little to late I suppose as in spring of 2007 at the age of 46 her alcoholism caught up with her and she died of a lung embolism. For those that don’t know, that is basically a stroke that happens in your lungs instead of your head. I will never get to know my mom besides the alcoholic, raging, depressed and disappointed in her own life woman that she was. Really I wouldn’t have minded giving her a second chance as by now most of the grudges I held onto for years I have let go with the understanding that she was not in a good place either and didn’t know any better way to handle it. I don’t in anyway blame her for my current troubles with alcohol, I did this myself. But I thought that maybe if there are any people out there that have young children and think they might have an issue with alcohol can take this as a warning sign to not head in the same general direction as my mother because it doesn’t work out well for anyone involved.
INH
For no particular reason I thought that I would share my story as far as being a child of an alcoholic. I know there are worse ones out there and I am not looking for a pity party. I just wanted to throw this out there for all of the people that I read about posting how they want to be sober for their little kids as an example of what can happen when you don’t.
In my case it was my mother and in her case it was her father, I don't know if the family history goes beyond that but I wouldn't doubt it. I never saw it as grandpa quit drinking by the time I was four but from what I have been told my grandfather was a mean ass drunk. There were chinks in the kitchen counter tops and when I asked about them I was told that was from him throwing knives at my grandmother, (no wonder they slept in different bedrooms) that and I know that the kitchen table had been through the big window of the kitchen at least twice, it was still usable (they don't make e’m like they used to LOL). So suffice to say my mom didn't grow up in the ideal environment either and carried a lot of baggage into her marriage with my father at 22. I say father because that lasted all of until I was four (according to my mom) or six (according to my father). I don't have many memories from back then and all of them but one are good ones, but I have been told that the divorce wasn't the prettiest but that is another story entirely. Thus began my mom’s second marriage and thus far I don’t remember her having a problem with alcohol, I remember it being there but I only remember my mom being drunk twice during the next six years. I am sure that it happened more often than that, but I suppose it didn’t strike me as odd then.
So then came the second divorce, and the starting of my mother’s problems to show through. First of all she always had issues controlling her anger, up and until this point I don’t recall it affecting me and my sister (not quite two years younger) but that may have been because both my father and step dad (notice I said dad) were very calm level headed people so I think that may have counterbalanced her in my early years. After that me and my sister went to live with our grandparents for a time while my mother moved to a new place to set up her own business and get a settled enough for us to join her. My grandfather as I said had quit drinking around the time I was four (there is a story behind that as well) but this was a very happy time in me and my sisters life my grandfather was never anything but kindly and proud of his grandchildren, and my grandmother is still a saint in my eyes.
My sister went first a year later and shortly thereafter I remember my grandmother receiving phone calls at 10 pm or later from my sister saying that mom was asleep in the car with empty vodka bottles, or that she was angry and hitting her across the back with a belt. Honestly at the time I chocked this up to early teenage drama queen because mom had never been like that before and my sister even though we are very close tended to be like that sometimes. Problem was, I know now that she wasn’t exaggerating or if she was it wasn’t much and it was more of my mother down playing it based on comparison with her own upbringing with my grandfather. A year later I joined and thus began the more than two years of living with my now very much alcoholic mom. By this time she had progressed into an all day drinker starting work with a 6 pack and having that finished off by noon then getting another and ending up passed out drunk by the evening. During this time she was never physically abusive, I don’t know why she was when it was just my sister but she never was when I was there. I do know that I was her “favorite” if such a term can be applied, my mom and my sister were too similar to get along very well and because of that my sister would “call my mom out” which would **** her off more. I was more of the well I am supposed to listen to my mom type which might account for that. What she did do was to constantly belittle and insult (remember the anger issues) well now there was no husband to take it out on and with the alcohol it always seemed that she was coming home drunk and ready to either yell at us or just go to sleep. Not that we made it much better, eventually me and my sister just gave up trying to placate her and just took the screaming, we figured that even if we did the dished or the laundry or whatever chore, we were going to get yelled at for something else anyway so why should we do any of it? Perhaps not the best choice but hey we were kids constantly in defensive mode. I remember constantly being told how stupid (I got straight A’s that year and was in the towns band by invite of my teacher), inept (I don’t know many 13 year olds that could cook clean do laundry ect as well as us, we had too she didn’t) and lazy (I have to give her that one) we were. So it goes without saying that these two years and what followed crushed whatever self confidence I had. Also during this time we were for lack of a better term poor, living in a flea infested one bedroom apartment with three people the only clothes that I got were from grandma on my birthday and Christmas and mom wasn’t there to make sure that the ones I wore to school were clean or without holes. The place that I now lived and went to school (my mom did make sure that I went to a better school) was fairly upscale which left me the definite outcast. Not her fault entirely but didn’t help the situation for me. I was a pretty smart kid and one distinct low point that I had in my early teen life was being called in invalid, I knew that it was used to insult me but I didn’t know what it meant, so on the same drive home I remember looking at my mom across the truck and sheepishly asking her “mom what does invalid mean?” she snapped back still angry with me over what I can’t remember she was nearly always angry at something, “it is someone that can’t take care of themselves”. Having to ask her the definition of the word that I knew had been used as an insult was a particular form of shame that stuck with me for years after. I only remember her slapping me once when I was around 14 I had physically grown up quickly and by this point was about two inches taller than my mom and I out of instinct slapped her right back. I remember the look of astonishment on her face and the instant feeling of dread and realization of what I had just done. I slept in the truck outside that night out of fear and shame. But that was the only time that ever happened.
Not to go too far into it because to do so would require a small book. Me and my sister developed looks and hand signals to inform the other of exactly how drunk she was. I never drink and drive because I don’t know how many times I just put my head down closed my eyes and hoped and maybe even prayed that we wouldn’t die. I would get done with band practice in the evening during the summer call home and hope that she would be awake and sober enough to come and pick me up. She usually wasn’t and a few times I hid out behind a tree or wherever so that the teachers would think that I was picked up when really I waited for another few hours till mom sobered up enough to remember that I was 20 miles away and had called her 6 times three hours ago waking her up each time just for her to blubber out okay I’m coming and me asking her not to go back to sleep. And lastly but not most importantly I remember feeling crushed when I got my straight A’s all year long and received an award for it upon graduation in front of the whole school and my mom knew this was happening but she was nowhere to be seen and I had to take the public transportation bus home. Might be one of the reasons that the next year I flunked two classes and eventually barley graduated high school, I just stopped trying after that year.
The time came to move again rather abruptly when she went out to the store to get some macaroni and cheese for dinner and never came back. One thing you have to understand is that my mom always thought that her personal life was none of my sisters and I’s concern so she never told us what was going on, well it turns out that on her way to get Mac and cheese she got pulled over and arrested for her fourth DUI. This was back in the 90’s when DUI’s were not quite as big of a deal legally anyway. But this last one landed her in jail for a week before she managed to come home just for enough time to get her personal affairs in order so that she could spend a 30 days in jail. I don’t know how me and my sister managed to not get put in some kind of home for that week but maybe the decided we were old enough to manage for a week and really we were. Grandma sent us some money to pay rent and buy food actually that was an awesome week, I rented video games and ate ice-cream as well as take out from my favorite restaurant almost every day. I should also mention that at this time I started experimenting with pot, something that I stopped shortly thereafter.
So anyhow back to the grandparents well grandmothers, I forgot to mention that my grandfather had died during the last year of my previous stay there. The very night my grandmother convinced him to go to the hospital after having trouble sleeping due to chest pain he has a heart attack walking into the emergency room, I guess the alcohol and smoking finally caught up to him. So anyway both me and my sister moved back in with my grandmother, waiting for our mother to join us. I didn’t notice at the time but I guess it was apparent to everyone else that knew us from before we were different people. My best friend’s mom didn’t mention it then but she told me years later that I had left an exuberant yet respectful and intelligent kid and returned a shy timid and quiet teenager.
My Grandmas health faded fast with a diagnosis of lung cancer so I think it was out of desperation that mom latched onto the first man she could get her hands on to get here out of her mother’s house. He wasn’t an alcoholic that much is true but he was definitely not a quality individual. Anyone that says they wouldn’t mind going to prison because you get free room and board and don’t have to do anything for it isn’t exactly someone that you want to learn from. Luckily me and my sister were old enough to pick up on this by now and not much if any of him rubbed off on us. The drinking and emotional abuse continued obviously, but by this point me and my sister had learned fairly well how to cope with it. Insults and yelling just rolled off of our shoulder as a regular occurrence, we learned to expect it. Also we learned how to somewhat avoid it not consistently but much more than before, also I think that by this point she started to see us not in the same light I don’t know what changed exactly but it was subtle and barley noticeable or perhaps it is just that my memory of those years is more clear than others that are overshadowed by a cloud of negativity and I was finally being able to see some positives. Mom still got angry at us especially when drinking but we were starting to stand up to it more especially my sister who was and still is a much stronger person emotionally than I am. Mostly my reaction back then and throughout the years was to just shut down and stop caring her reaction was to fight back. This lead to inevitable confrontations between her and mom sometimes getting into the physical, the day that mom came at her with a cast iron frying pan was the day my sister called it quits and called our stepdad whom we both had considered our father but she had spent more time with over the last few years than me and asked if she could live with him. He said yes and mom didn’t object so that left me. Moms third marriage (well actually fourth but the other one I blame on a drunken night in Vegas or wherever because it only lasted six months and I seem to be the only one that was informed of it) was doomed from the start and lasted about two years by this time I am about to graduate from high school and can’t get out of the house fast enough. I had experimented with alcohol during this time but never often and it was always a mix of whatever liquors that a friend of mine managed to scavenge from his parent’s liquor cabinet combined with the beers that I would take from my mother’s cases occasionally and store up until he came over. I could never stomach the liquor and so I don’t recall ever getting truly drunk during these times but definitely buzzed.
After that I moved a lot getting work where I could eventually and unfortunately, I ended up moving back in with her at the age of 19 turning into 20. I worked for her boyfriend (also an alcoholic but not violent) whom she lived with, and I got along great with, she still got angry from time to time and would go on tirades about this or that but at this point I was so used to it that it almost struck me as funny. Something would aggravate her, maybe it was me, maybe it wasn’t but it didn’t matter with her once the ball got rolling every little thing made it worse until by the end of the day she could get irate over the smallest of things. I remember being physically attacked twice which to be honest at this point I thought was funny as hell because I towered over her and there was nothing she could do. I never struck her but did push her down a couple of times during one time when she came swinging. And there was one occasion when I was helping her move during a temporary break up with her boyfriend, she had borrowed an old truck from my uncle and had warned me about something to do with driving it I can’t remember what but I failed to do it so the truck broke down. I called for her to help and when she got there nothing came out of her mouth that wasn’t insulting. I had had enough and once the truck got started drove away, called the uncle and asked if it was okay to borrow the truck then the boyfriend and asked if I could stay with him. After I calmed down I drove to where my mom was now staying and started to pack up my things she showed up in the middle of it and was nothing short of furious. Especially when I said that I was moving back with her recent ex boyfriend (they got back together) she again came in swinging. I easily was able to get away and started putting my stuff into the truck. At which point she threatened to call the truck in stolen. I told her I had permission from my uncle to borrow it, she then threatened to get her gun and shoot me, I had already thought of this and knew that the gun was at my aunts because she had left it there as collateral for a loan from them told her this and since at this point all she could do was see me off she did so, by throwing the remainder of my things into the yard. I found this nothing short of entertaining, probably not the best perspective but the one I had at the time.
Shortly after that I got out of the house for good and didn’t come back for three years. I think I called maybe five times in those three years. When I did visit home it was my standing policy even though mom was much calmer now, as she had cut back on drinking due to her new profession involving a lot of long distance driving, not to stay around her more than three days in a row. After that I noticed that the old trends of using me as a punching bag to vent all of life’s frustrations started to come back, and at this point I was having none of that. Between the end of 2003 and the beginning of 2007 I saw my mom four times I think and I must say she was starting to get better from what I saw. Her drinking was way down, she was much happier and more positive and actually liked to talk with me and I her. I think that if this had continued her and I might have been able to develop an actual relationship and maybe even her and my sister who I don’t even think saw each other more than once since she had left at 16.
Unfortunately in her case it was to little to late I suppose as in spring of 2007 at the age of 46 her alcoholism caught up with her and she died of a lung embolism. For those that don’t know, that is basically a stroke that happens in your lungs instead of your head. I will never get to know my mom besides the alcoholic, raging, depressed and disappointed in her own life woman that she was. Really I wouldn’t have minded giving her a second chance as by now most of the grudges I held onto for years I have let go with the understanding that she was not in a good place either and didn’t know any better way to handle it. I don’t in anyway blame her for my current troubles with alcohol, I did this myself. But I thought that maybe if there are any people out there that have young children and think they might have an issue with alcohol can take this as a warning sign to not head in the same general direction as my mother because it doesn’t work out well for anyone involved.
INH
Member
Join Date: Dec 2011
Posts: 11
Thanks for taking the time to share. I come from a highly dysfunctional home too. When I raised my own children I was keenly aware of making sure I provided them with an emotionally healthy upbringing!! They are in their 20's now and are all doing well. I'm so glad I never repeated the anguish my parents put us through.
Member
Join Date: Dec 2010
Location: Louisiana
Posts: 216
INH:
I too, thank you for your story. It takes a lot of guts to lay things like this on the table for everyone to see, but you seem to be ok with that and I applaud you.
I also like the your ending, stating that you can hopefully let other parents who have addictions or living with an addicted person see the harm that can be done.
Huggs,
Hope
I too, thank you for your story. It takes a lot of guts to lay things like this on the table for everyone to see, but you seem to be ok with that and I applaud you.
I also like the your ending, stating that you can hopefully let other parents who have addictions or living with an addicted person see the harm that can be done.
Huggs,
Hope
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