Brought up by alcohol
By Anonymous
Since about the age of eight years old I have watched my dad drink.
He would have a can of beer whilst playing game with us and that would be the norm for a Sunday night. While Mom cooked dinner. It never really bothered me that much when I was younger as alcohol has always been in this house and always will be. During the day he is sober holding down a job nine to six in a office, he's not the stereotypical alcoholic but he's still an alcoholic.
I can remember when his drinking would get out of control and it still does. I have always felt different from my friends - In school on Monday mornings it would always start with sharing about what we did over the weekend. Many people would say that they spent time with their dad or that their dad took them somewhere. When it got to me what could I say ? 'Dad just drank'? No. Talking about Dad and his drinking is not something we were allowed to , we still do not talk about dad and his drinking.
It wasn't until my bed times became later that I really began to notice how much my dad drinks. A can or two of beer per night was all I saw up to about the age of 10 maybe 11. It was about this age I began to notice my dad passing out on the sofa. Inviting friends round to my house became problematic because the later they stayed the more chance I had of them seeing dad drunk. To keep this from happening I would make sure my friends were gone by the early evening. I was going to school tired and exhausted from waiting for my dad to either pass out or to go to bed and from trying to wake him up if he did pass out on the sofa. I was starting to get angry in school, not just because of what was going on at home , but also because I was getting bullied at school. Where ever I went, I was dealing with name calling and abuse. It was like there was no escape from it at all. I was labelled as naughty and badly behaved. Threatened with suspension and isolation, and was put on report, I began to bunk (skip class)
If I did attend lessons, people would irritate me and I would become angry. No one ever asked if I was okay and just assumed ''that was how I was''. The reality was that I was trying to juggle schoolwork, dad's drinking , the abuse and arguments and avoid getting into trouble at school. Yet I could not tell anyone what was happening,I didn't have the words to say nor could I find them, I also felt like telling them what was going on at home would destroy the family. So I kept quiet. I still do feel like telling would destroy the family. I would be falling asleep in classes, I'd get angry, yet most of the time I'd act like everything was fine.
My attendance fell from 100% percent to 50% it continued to fall and the attendance percentages got lower and lower. This was then attributed to be being a trouble maker and not being bothered about my education, as time went on I missed deadlines and didn't bother with homework, if I did to my homework it would be sloppy and rushed sometimes done on the bus or train while on the way to school. There were times when I used to get excellent grades, but overall my grades were slipping. Homework was not something I considered to be important, nor did I have the time to do. I would come home from school , run up to my room, and collapse on my bed into a heap and cry - this was not because of just what was going on at home but also because of the pressures of school and the bullying. After a while I would calm down and tidy my room and watch some T.V. Have dinner, by then dad was home from work and my time was taken up from having to deal with dad, arguments were every night sometimes we would have up to four arguments a night. If it was a ''good night'' we would have one or two arguments a night. On a ''good night'' I would manage to get some homework done before having to deal with my dad whilst he was passed out the sofa and making sure he was okay the following morning.
I managed to get into college only just scraping by with the bare minimum grades I needed for my course but college proved to be just as hard. Though my attendance did seem to improve - I would still arrive late for class. I was becoming more and more angry, it got to the point where even the smallest thing would set me off. If someone said something I did not like I would rise from my seat and start shouting, or I would just shut down and stop talking. My tutor noticed and asked me what was going on. I said nothing at the time, but I had a few friends and one of my friends did know about my dad, this friend became my rock through out college, they would call me most nights to make sure I was okay and that my dad was not getting violent or abusive, they offered me a place at their house for if I ever needed a place to stay, they gave me a card with emergency phone numbers on it for housing and places that could help me, they spoke to the police for me on my behalf to just get advice. I don't think I would have made it through the first year of college without that friend. This friend also encouraged me to call a helpline. The helpline became a safe place for me where I began to talk to them about my dad, the bullying and the self harming - which by now I was self harming several times a day.
There would be times where I would cry my eyes out or cry myself to sleep.
(I've added in a couple of words)