not sure why I'm posting this. It's probably going to be long!
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Join Date: May 2014
Posts: 109
not sure why I'm posting this. It's probably going to be long!
I never thought of myself as the child of an alcoholic.
My Dad is an alcoholic. He left when I was nine years old. I'm forty two now.
My Dad left a couple of times i don't remember and one time I do remember before he left for good.
He had a variety of jobs and was in and out of AA before he joined the merchant marines. He was a merchant marine for years and sent home great money and we had him home for 6-8 weeks at a time which was great. He was the best Dad-home working in the yard huge garden, all the neighborhood kids loved him and spent all summer in our pool with us.
I remember in early summer coming out of the shower and hearing my Mom and sister laughing in the dining room. Dad was due home any day and my sister and I had been giddy for days. I ran to them But they were crying. Not laughing. Sitting on the for hiding onto each other for dear life and sobbing.
Mom had finally had to fess up. She hadn't heard from Dad in months. There had been no pay for months. She had finally called his employer and found out he'd quit.
My Mom had a part time job for some extra fun money-we were broke and broken.
My Mom refused help from the government or family. She worked a full time job and two post time jobs. She smoked cigarettes drank coffee and rarely ate. Mostly because she couldn't afford to feed all 3 of us. She was hungry alone tired scared and sick. And mean as a snake. Me and my sister (one year older than i) took turns waking her up for her night jobs. It was awful. She almost always had bronchitis and or the flu and was scary to wake up. No alarm was loud enough-it had to be us-and as hard as it was to wake her we were in trouble if she overslept.
If it was a snow day from school we had to get up and make sure the driveway was shoveled because Mom had 1 hour when she got home from the night jobs to get ready the day job. Getting ready was a shower instant coffee and chainsmoking cigarettes.
We weren't allowed to discuss my father unless it was positive. We were to be thankful that he had left and spared us the drama of his alcoholism. To the point that one day when i was 10 my Mom found me looking at a picture of my Dad and crying. She got angry and yelled at me that I was to never use my father as an excuse to be upset or cry.
The rage and fear and pain my Mom held onto made her very verbally and emotionally abusive. But we were not allowed to cry and we were required to always maintain a pleasant look on our faces. No one must ever think we were sad.
I left home when i was barely 18 and took the 45 minute trip home only for Christmas and Thanksgiving for a decade.
My grandfather eventually told me after he'd had a few too many beers that my Dad had moved back to the area not long after abandoning us. He married another woman while still married to my Mom and lived in a city about 20 minutes away. He burnt her house down and went to jail. My grampa told me he'd been in jail in the past for arson. This makes memories i have about fire make more sense.
My Mom found out recently that he's still alive.
I'd always figured he was dead.
My Mom is still slowly killing herself with cigarettes lack of caring for herself and stress and sorrow she refuses to ever let go of.
My Dad is an alcoholic. He left when I was nine years old. I'm forty two now.
My Dad left a couple of times i don't remember and one time I do remember before he left for good.
He had a variety of jobs and was in and out of AA before he joined the merchant marines. He was a merchant marine for years and sent home great money and we had him home for 6-8 weeks at a time which was great. He was the best Dad-home working in the yard huge garden, all the neighborhood kids loved him and spent all summer in our pool with us.
I remember in early summer coming out of the shower and hearing my Mom and sister laughing in the dining room. Dad was due home any day and my sister and I had been giddy for days. I ran to them But they were crying. Not laughing. Sitting on the for hiding onto each other for dear life and sobbing.
Mom had finally had to fess up. She hadn't heard from Dad in months. There had been no pay for months. She had finally called his employer and found out he'd quit.
My Mom had a part time job for some extra fun money-we were broke and broken.
My Mom refused help from the government or family. She worked a full time job and two post time jobs. She smoked cigarettes drank coffee and rarely ate. Mostly because she couldn't afford to feed all 3 of us. She was hungry alone tired scared and sick. And mean as a snake. Me and my sister (one year older than i) took turns waking her up for her night jobs. It was awful. She almost always had bronchitis and or the flu and was scary to wake up. No alarm was loud enough-it had to be us-and as hard as it was to wake her we were in trouble if she overslept.
If it was a snow day from school we had to get up and make sure the driveway was shoveled because Mom had 1 hour when she got home from the night jobs to get ready the day job. Getting ready was a shower instant coffee and chainsmoking cigarettes.
We weren't allowed to discuss my father unless it was positive. We were to be thankful that he had left and spared us the drama of his alcoholism. To the point that one day when i was 10 my Mom found me looking at a picture of my Dad and crying. She got angry and yelled at me that I was to never use my father as an excuse to be upset or cry.
The rage and fear and pain my Mom held onto made her very verbally and emotionally abusive. But we were not allowed to cry and we were required to always maintain a pleasant look on our faces. No one must ever think we were sad.
I left home when i was barely 18 and took the 45 minute trip home only for Christmas and Thanksgiving for a decade.
My grandfather eventually told me after he'd had a few too many beers that my Dad had moved back to the area not long after abandoning us. He married another woman while still married to my Mom and lived in a city about 20 minutes away. He burnt her house down and went to jail. My grampa told me he'd been in jail in the past for arson. This makes memories i have about fire make more sense.
My Mom found out recently that he's still alive.
I'd always figured he was dead.
My Mom is still slowly killing herself with cigarettes lack of caring for herself and stress and sorrow she refuses to ever let go of.
Member
Join Date: May 2013
Location: east coast
Posts: 1,332
Hi!
Welcome to sober recovery. It is often said that alcoholism is a family disease in that everyone is affected. The dont say anything or feel anything is quite common. If you havent done so already read the stickied threads at the top of this forum. I did and it was a huge help for me.
Welcome to sober recovery. It is often said that alcoholism is a family disease in that everyone is affected. The dont say anything or feel anything is quite common. If you havent done so already read the stickied threads at the top of this forum. I did and it was a huge help for me.
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