Adult Children of Alcoholics

A topic for people who, in childhood or adolescence, experienced persistent effects of alcoholism of parents or other family members.

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Tools:
Calmness,
Courage,
Wisdom.

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Hello, my name is Roman and my father was an alcoholic.

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@Roman_t this is a serious theme, you are really courageous. What happened in past can destroy our future, but we can’t let define what we would want to become. The guilt in your heart is not for you but the parents cause. Depression, frustration and rancor. We deserve to escape and find ways to destroy the pain or us in the process. We change physical instead of emotional to create a thing we believe is tangible, but it is out of control. I am a doctor but I think I can help you, try to write me about what happened. We find the source of the agony and erease it, whether it was possible.

My story.

My mother met a guy and got pregnant.
The guy set a condition for her: if a boy is born, he will marry her and they will live together, if a girl is born, then they will separate.
A girl (my sister) was born and he left them.
About a year later, my mother met my father and they got married. My mother got pregnant and gave birth to me.
After I was 4 or 5 years old, my father started drinking. When he got drunk, he became very aggressive. They started fighting with my mother more and more often. When my father was drunk, he and my mother hated each other, and there was a real war between them. They fought among themselves - with sticks, iron rods, axes. (it almost came to knives). (It’s very scary).

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Yes, at first my mother was afraid of my father, when he was drunk and there was a scandal, she ran away with me and my sister from the house. I remember one night we hid from him in the garage, sometimes we ran to my mother’s grandmother’s house to spend the night. When my father sobered up, he asked my mother for forgiveness, and she forgave him, and they measured themselves. (There is calm and joy here).
I remember my mother complaining to her brother that he would calm him down. My uncle scolded my father. After that, my father was afraid of him. (Always respected him).

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When his father started drinking again, his mother stopped being afraid of him and started fighting with him constantly.
My father took a course in treatment for alcohol addiction, relapsed and started drinking even more.
He began to drink to such an extent that he began to sit on the bed in his sleep. He went on a long binge and almost died. (My sister saved him, she called an ambulance.) His arm was swollen and he underwent surgery. He lost his job. In order to get alcohol, he began to pull valuables out of the house.
One day my mother threw all his belongings into the garden in the raspberries. I don’t know how long he lived and drank there, but one day my mother told me that he already had worms crawling under his eyes.
Apparently, when he sobered up, he cleaned himself up, and again his mother forgave him.

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We moved into a new three-room apartment. He started drinking again. Sometimes he worked as a watchman, then as a janitor, then went on a binge again.
Basically, my mother was pulling me and my sister alone (study, food, clothes).
The fights continued.
When fights broke out, my sister and I used to hide in another room behind the couch. What would you understand – the fights were always with blood, with wounds. Every fight could be the last for one of them.
But fortunately or unfortunately,
my father had a disabled mother and she had been in bed for 20 years. She lived with her husband and second son. My father’s brother also drank, and then became a drug addict. When her husband died, her father’s brother hanged himself. My father went to live with his mother.
One night, he got very drunk in his mother’s apartment, fell and hit his head on the corner of a closet. He died.
On April 1, a district police officer came to our house and reported his death.
At first, the mother did not believe it and thought it was a prank.

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When my mother and I came to this apartment, my grandmother was sobbing and I saw a pool of blood on the floor. I didn’t see my father’s body, he had already been taken to the morgue. After 2 days we buried him.
My mother still hates him. We have never been to his grave since his death. Now I don’t even know where his grave is!
I hope he’ll forgive me for that.

Still, he was a good man when he was sober.
He could make candy out of shit.
People always spoke of him: golden hands, filthy mouth.
He taught me a lot (not only the bad, but also the good).

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Now I’ve grown up and become an adult, I’m already 37, but I still can’t start a family, I can’t have serious relationships with girls. I can’t achieve my goals, I can’t stop being afraid of everything.
On Saturday, I often feel bad. Sometimes I feel a blurring of my consciousness, as if I have a waste after drinking alcohol.
Hopefully I can overcome this problem and my mind will be sober.

Thank you all, thank you for your attention.

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@Roman_t I am so sorry about your story, it is really sad and you have passed a lot of troubles, first is not your fault, we can’t choose our families and they can hurt us. No one shouldn’t experienced what you have lived. Your live must be yours and yours only. The hell was over but the wound is still opened. I can’t close it for you, you must find the way to restart, you are not your father, you are better, don’t have guilt or sorrow, talk with friends, with a therapist. And with all of us. The life goes on, and the storm is over. The life you would want to have is an idea you can look for. Do it. Leave the past where should be, and create a new form to live, just erease what you don’t want. Look at the future and the present. The past is just a book which end we already know.

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Thank you. You are right.

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This is why alcohol wrecks havoc. I hope you recover from all that trauma as well as your mother and sister and find positive ways to cope with the possible resulted mental difficulties such as anxiety or depression. I advice that you seek psychotherapy if you can afford it or just try to help yourself through psychological books like i do. Something called cognitive therapy helps a lot. It helped me change some of my own thoughts. There are negative thoughts that grew and nurtured by trauma and we take them automatically as true which means they can go unquestioned by us. Work on yourself brother it gets better. I know it sounds unfair to go through all that but suffering is inevitable, when we understand this we can start focusing on what we can improve in our lives, this in itself can be healing. It’s good your father can no longer harm himself or those around him. I’m sorry to say this bro.

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I see a lot of meaning in this.

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