Life with Dad pt 1

I question how much to share with you about my father. Not because I am ashamed or because I fear your judgment, but because I never want to say or do anything to dishonor my dad. When he was sober, my dad was the most amazing man in the world. Smart, funny, creative, outgoing, attractive, successful. My friends all loved him and we had earned the reputation in the town I went to school in as the 'family who had it all together'. He worked hard to provide for his wife and family and did everything he could to give me everything I desired. He was beloved and respected by many. His relationship with my mom was one that was admired and envied by every woman we knew. No matter what they were doing, you could always see how deeply in love my parents were. For the first few years of my life, I had everything a girl could want. Although we started out very poor, by the time I was 7 my dad had established himself in the business community and we were well on our way to living the dream. As a young girl, I remember thinking 'when I get married I hope it is to someone like my dad'.

But alcoholism has a way of destroying lives and families quickly and completely. I was 14 when my mom announced to my older brother and I that my dad had a drinking problem. This news was not unexpected. I had known for sometime that there was something wrong with my father. His behavior was unpredictable, his temper was out of control at times, he would say hurtful things and not seem to realize what he was saying. Add to that the slurred speech and the fact that I would often come home to find him passed out in the truck or on the couch and I had pretty much been able to draw my own conclusion. But I had no way of knowing how much my life was going to be impacted by the truth.

See, one day, my mom decided that her, my brother and I were all going to confront Dad and let him know that we wanted him to get help. She knew how much he loved us all and thought that if we asked him to get help, he would. He didn't. In fact, he was already drunk when mom sat him down to have the conversation and I will never forget the look on his face when Mom said “I told the kids about your drinking and we all want you to get help to stop”. I think it was really the first time I remember him looking at my mom with anything but love. In his eyes was not love, but contempt. He laughed at us and walked away.

I don't know if it was because he was angry or because he no longer had reason to hide his addiction, but things rapidly got much worse. My dad never raised a hand to me my entire life, but it is safe to say that the damage was done in other ways and took years to recover from. Over the course of the next 3 years, I would come to realize that alcoholism was the least of our worries.