I Have An Alcoholic Father
Why Do You Hurt Us...if You Say You Love Us So Much?
Written on July 11th, 2012
Appearances deceive? Yes. My dad is an alcoholic, even if he doesn't want to admit it. My dad is the typical dad who goes to work everyday, provides for his family, supports us during rain or shine moments. He is the ideal father. I know he loves us so much and he shows it through endless hugs and kisses.
My childhood is filled with sad, scary, and scaring memories. The earliest memory I have of my dad acting out is right around Christmas. I was only 6 or 7 years old. I remember him sitting on the couch next to the Christmas tree and telling me that he would one day build us a big house with a big pool. I remember laying down on the couch with tears in my eyes. It was only him and I talking about his big plans and how he wanted to buy us everything and make enough money to send my brother and I to college. I believe that I still didn't know what exactly was going on but it has obviously made an impact if I can still remember.
Later on came the yelling. I'd love the weekdays because I knew nothing bad was going to happen. As soon as Friday rolled around I'd dread to go home. It never failed for my parents to argue about the same thing...alcohol. Every weekend it was the same chaos and every Monday for journal time I had to make up a lie about my weekend.
The time finally came for the words I had once heard at the age of 6 or 7 to come true. As he promised he built us a big house and a big swimming pool. All of this came from pure sweat and savings. You'd think the problem would end but that can never left his hand. I don't remember what happened duing my middle school or early high school years. Perhaps they're just repressed memories that I don't want to remember.
I don't know how many times I listened to Christina Aguilera's song "I'm ok" or Lindsey Lohan's "Confessions of a broken heart". After endless letters, talks, promises, and amongst other things my mom, brother, and I couldn't get my dad to stop drinking. I don't know how many tears I've shed, but I do know that every single one of those tears were because of all of the verbal and emotional abuse that had been going on for years.
I know my dad was proud of me for making the JV soccer team, for being admitted to National Honor Society, and for making the decision to graduate early from high school. I know he was very proud.
It was the weekend before I start college at the local university and my home was a warzone. For the first time ever things had gotten completely out of control. There was never any physical abuse, but the verbal attacks never stopped. My mom had once and forall had it. All I remember is her saying " Pack your bags because we are leaving.". I remember driving at 3 in the morning with a knot in my throat and an ugly feeling in my stomach. We didnt know where we were going. We ended up at a shelter dedicated to helping women and their children whom have been victims of domestic violence.
My parents are still married, living under the same roof, and my dad is still an alcoholic. Today July 11, 2012 (wednesday) my dad practically told me that I'm skanky, can't wait for my brother to leave once the fall semester starts and doesn't want him to ever come back, and called my mom crazy for defending us. It was an argument over nothing, but my dad just needs an extra reason to drink. He went slammed the door sat in the patio, drank, and cried like child.
I'm 21 just graduated from college with my BA. We are the kids I'm sure he always dreamt of having, he has a wife that has stood by him in every single moment, and he has a home, food on the table, and a vehicle. What else does he need. We give him attention, we show him love.
Dad, why won't you change? Why don't you see that you're hurting us? Why can't you just stop drinking? Why do you love beer more than us? Why do you say ugly things to us? Do you even love us? Am I not what you expected? Do you care about our feelings? Just tell me why.
=,(
My childhood is filled with sad, scary, and scaring memories. The earliest memory I have of my dad acting out is right around Christmas. I was only 6 or 7 years old. I remember him sitting on the couch next to the Christmas tree and telling me that he would one day build us a big house with a big pool. I remember laying down on the couch with tears in my eyes. It was only him and I talking about his big plans and how he wanted to buy us everything and make enough money to send my brother and I to college. I believe that I still didn't know what exactly was going on but it has obviously made an impact if I can still remember.
Later on came the yelling. I'd love the weekdays because I knew nothing bad was going to happen. As soon as Friday rolled around I'd dread to go home. It never failed for my parents to argue about the same thing...alcohol. Every weekend it was the same chaos and every Monday for journal time I had to make up a lie about my weekend.
The time finally came for the words I had once heard at the age of 6 or 7 to come true. As he promised he built us a big house and a big swimming pool. All of this came from pure sweat and savings. You'd think the problem would end but that can never left his hand. I don't remember what happened duing my middle school or early high school years. Perhaps they're just repressed memories that I don't want to remember.
I don't know how many times I listened to Christina Aguilera's song "I'm ok" or Lindsey Lohan's "Confessions of a broken heart". After endless letters, talks, promises, and amongst other things my mom, brother, and I couldn't get my dad to stop drinking. I don't know how many tears I've shed, but I do know that every single one of those tears were because of all of the verbal and emotional abuse that had been going on for years.
I know my dad was proud of me for making the JV soccer team, for being admitted to National Honor Society, and for making the decision to graduate early from high school. I know he was very proud.
It was the weekend before I start college at the local university and my home was a warzone. For the first time ever things had gotten completely out of control. There was never any physical abuse, but the verbal attacks never stopped. My mom had once and forall had it. All I remember is her saying " Pack your bags because we are leaving.". I remember driving at 3 in the morning with a knot in my throat and an ugly feeling in my stomach. We didnt know where we were going. We ended up at a shelter dedicated to helping women and their children whom have been victims of domestic violence.
My parents are still married, living under the same roof, and my dad is still an alcoholic. Today July 11, 2012 (wednesday) my dad practically told me that I'm skanky, can't wait for my brother to leave once the fall semester starts and doesn't want him to ever come back, and called my mom crazy for defending us. It was an argument over nothing, but my dad just needs an extra reason to drink. He went slammed the door sat in the patio, drank, and cried like child.
I'm 21 just graduated from college with my BA. We are the kids I'm sure he always dreamt of having, he has a wife that has stood by him in every single moment, and he has a home, food on the table, and a vehicle. What else does he need. We give him attention, we show him love.
Dad, why won't you change? Why don't you see that you're hurting us? Why can't you just stop drinking? Why do you love beer more than us? Why do you say ugly things to us? Do you even love us? Am I not what you expected? Do you care about our feelings? Just tell me why.
=,(
Age:
18-21
,
Female
