Research question: growing up with an alcoholic parent

[Wheezy]

Hey guys. Some of you know I'm an author of a young adult fiction series.

Well, I need some help, and I'm not looking for clinical facts (I can find those by googling). I need some general stories from real people who have first-hand experience growing up (as a teen would be ideal) with an alcoholic parent.

I'm looking for a variety of things in trying to get into the mind of a character -- the mom of my teenage main character.

If there's something particular you care to share with me privately, feel free to send me a message instead of posting it here.

What I'm looking for:

Basic daily habits of your alcoholic parent -- sleeping hours, attitudes.
The daily routine.
When was your parent usually "up" or "down" mood-wise -- was it consistent or unpredictable?
What happened when your parent tried to quit drinking for a day or two?
Did you friends know about your parent's alcoholism?
How did you feel about your parent?

Anything else you want to share is fine (feel free to vent, too. I know this is a tough subject). I want my character to be authentic. I won't use anything that would identify anybody -- rather I plan to just get a general feeling/mood of what it is like to live with an alcoholic parent.

Many, many thanks. I've got to run out for an hour or two now but I'll be back a bit later.

xox
Lisa

[Wheezy]

1. kicking...

I've had some amazing heartfelt responses so far via private message -- I just wanted to bump this to the top in case there are posters who didn't see it.

Thanks,

Lisa

[Lyric]

2. Here's mine.

When my Dad woke up, the first thing he got was a strong cup of coffee. He had a special coffee cup that he used for decades, and never used a different one. By noon, he was cracking his first beer. Because he drank so much (about a case a day) and we were poor, he always got the really cheap stuff--Milwaukee's Best, Schlitz, Schaffer's, or sometimes Stoney's beer in brown bottles. "Honey, go get me a beer" was such a common thing that I considered it unremarkable as a child. We usually heard it fifteen times a day or more.

My Dad wasn't a "mean" drunk. Usually, he just sat in his chair and poured beer after beer down his throat. Sometimes he'd have the radio or TV on, but most of the time he just stared at nothing. His skin was brown from years of working out in the sun, with a yellow undertone due to liver damage. The whites of his eyes were yellowed, too. His breath always smelled like beer. He had a tendency to doze off with a lit cigarette still in between his fingers, so we were all constantly on the lookout for it.

I remember once, he woke up from a late afternoon booze nap to the sound of the telephone ringing. He grabbed the TV remote control and tried to light it like a cigarette, and attempted to "answer" the phone by putting his beer can to his ear and mumbling.

By evening, he'd either be fast asleep in his chair, or sprawled out in the middle of the living room floor, completely passed-out drunk. He occasionally wet himself; I remember MANY nights of waking up to hear my mother yelling at him, telling him "If you can't sleep in the bed without pissing yourself, go sleep on the floor." I can't even count how many mornings I woke up to see Mom's mattress propped up with a fan blowing on it to dry it out.

Dad was never mean or violent, though. When was was drunk, but not "blotto" drunk, he was generally funny, more affectionate than usual, and very likable. He always saved his aluminum cans and recycled them--my siblings and I would walk around our trailer park, looking for extra cans to add to his "collection" because you could get a decent amount for recycling aluminum back then. He only drove drunk once or twice; I remember one of those times, because it was raining and we were on a dirt road going uphill, and he kept getting too close to the edge. The road was slippery mud, and he had Mom scared to death, so she made him stop, got all of us kids out of the car, and we walked to the top of the hill.

They constantly fought about money. If we had $20 left to our names and needed groceries, we were in trouble, because Dad *had* to have his beer, and they both had to have cigarettes and coffee. We made a lot of meals out of cheap hot dogs and rice because there wasn't anything else. I know they felt guilty about it, too, but with Dad's PTSD, going without the alcohol meant living with the nightmares and flashbacks. It wasn't a question, you know?

[Wheezy]

4. *nods*

Oktoberain, great thanks to you for sharing your experiences. This is really helpful.

*hugs*

[wain]

44. I have come to believe addiction is an evil as well as a disease

Sometimes life is not so easy. Sometimes it's hard to be the father you want to be.

I admire that there is no bitterness in your words. We only have one father. I know that over the years as I experience life I become more forgiving and understand more that the journey has many bumps and twists and turns. I have learned to be non-judgmental and to accept people as they are.


:hug:

[Elidor]

3. My father was always on time for work, always sharp and focused

Very good at his job and he made a fair amount of money. For the first 15 years of my life, he was stone cold sober. He eventually had 25 years sober. Then, once every three or four months, he would go on a three-day bender, missing the following Monday at work, too drunk to call in because he could drink almost a gallon of straight vodka in a day.

But he was always mellow and infinitely patient with me, never abusive. He was a grizzly bear in the mornings (so am I), and could be gruff and intimidating at such times. If he didn't like someone, he could fix them with a stare, a casual expression of such searing contempt that people would cower and quickly leave, which I always found funny, because he was such a harmless guy. I think I heard him swear maybe three times in my whole life. The man had endless patience, which I do not. I don't see how he put up with ME. I wasn't crazy about how he was at those times, but I didn't hold it against him, and he was basically a real good guy. It's a shame he didn't quite live to see me become an adult.

I remember waking up one morning, a couple years after his death, and feeling indescribably happy, and knowing I had seen an old friend, and yet I couldn't recall dreaming about anyone. And suddenly I felt him, and felt as if I had just been talking to him, but I couldn't recall talking to him. I stayed happy the rest of the day, and there was a glow over the whole world.

[Wheezy]

5. Thank you, Hardhead

I teared up at your last paragraph. I'm so glad you had a connection there.

[ScreamingMeemie]

6. Not my experience, but MrG's...

His father drank a fifth a day. It was okay before his mom left because she shielded them from a lot. Then, she chose herself and took off. It became (at the age of 12) a daily ritual of coming home from school, cooking, cleaning and laundry. Trying to be as good, as clean, as neat as he could in order to try and maintain some sort of order in his life (this carried on into my husband's adulthood. He always tried to "fix" things). He would come home at night (as a later teen) and pick his passed out father up off the floor, put away the gun (my fil always said he would kill himself is my mil didn't come back) and put him to bed. This went on until he left the house at 19. Some nights, the nights my husband didn't go out, were spent listening (for hours) to his father talk about his mother...literally hours, sometimes up to 6 or 7. Other nights it was hours of lecturing. Other nights it was pulling his big brother off of his father because his brother got sick of it and got violent. Once, a trip to the ER after his father crashed while driving with him in the car (at 13) and broke his nose. And always, feeling as if it was somehow his fault. I thought he grew up and out of those feelings. I thought I had shown him how wonderful a human being he was. I was wrong. Parental alcoholism has repercussions that are far too tragic.

My FIL? My husband found him on Father's Day,2000...dead of a gunshot wound to the head. If I could have taken that away, that pain...I would gladly have. He thought he had somehow not been a "good enough" son. He was better than any son ever. He was better than all of the husbands and fathers on this earth put together. I tried to make him see that...understand it. But, I failed.

[SPKrazy]

8. Yanno Mrs. G

You didn't fail because I'm not sure that YOU or any other human being could have made him see it differently. I didn't know your husband, I do think that somehow society failed him completely. To have let him live like that as a child. To have let him go through what he did and not help him or find out what was wrong. Too many children grow up in alcoholic or other addicted households and the situation is always similar, a blaming of themselves for the problems.

I wish I could help you to see that you didn't fail him, society, and who knows what else, his brain chemistry? All failed him. You are so hard on yourself and I am sure it is because you are blaming yourself for what happened to him, just like he did... if he'd only been a better son... if I'd only been a better wife... or done things better. If only... only it happened the way it did, and you tried, and I bet you tried like a champ to make it not happen. It happened anyway.

I hope you don't take this in any hostile way at all. I am so sorry for what you've been through. I wish I could take away your guilt. You wished you could take away your husband's guilt because you saw it wasn't his. Ultimately, we all are responsible for ourselves.

There are many times in my life where taking my life seemed an option. It scared me, and I got help for it. Not everyone who has that experience finds help, or knows where to look for it, or can get it. I don't know it won't happen again. It's been a while.

My heart hurts for you and I don't even know you except from here MG.

Bless you, you've been so very sweet to me, and kind with your words. I can't help but believe you are indeed a good person, and I can't help but believe you did everything you could think of to help your husband. I'm also sure you did help him. He made a choice anyway, one that can't be taken back. I'm sorry.

I'll shut up now, but :hug: :hug: :hug: :hug: :hug:

:loveya:

[Wheezy]

11. Thank you, Mrs G.

Thank you for sharing this story. It helps me a lot. *hug*

[elleng]

7. I could tell stories for/about my daughters,

but you don't want to hear them and I don't want to write now.

Love to you all.

E

[Wheezy]

12. love back. n/t

:hug:

[Callalily]

9. You know? Sometimes those

stories are just better left buried. It's tough growing up with an alcoholic parent.

[Wheezy]

13. *nods*

Yes. It's a terribly tough thing.

Wishing you well.

[raccoon]

10. Self delete nt

[unpossibles]

14. my mother was an alcoholic

As are her siblings.

One amusing thing that hit me fairly recently was that we only went to restaurants which had bars. It came to me at first because I was thinking about how we almost never ate fast food growing up. I had assumed at first it was because my mom was a foodie and a great cook, then I started realizing that all of the places we went to had a bar.

One of the scarier aspects I remember was having to frequently help her walk to the car so she could drive us home. It bothered me that she got wasted, but it did not hit me how dangerous that was until later as well. I was too young to drive by years.

She was also late to pick me up for almost everything, which really hurt sometimes. There were a few times that I remember having to sit for hours alone at the school, skating rink, or wherever waiting for her to come get me. We lived out in the country, and this was pre-cell phones, so it was usually wait and hope she shows up, and sometimes even walking to some stranger's house to use the phone to call her.

She was a great mom, all things considered and other than the booze. She taught me how to take care of myself (and not just with the above anecdotes, but also with practical skills), how to be an honest person, and to try to treat others the way I would want to be treated. She busted her ass for me and my brother, although we sometimes did not appreciate that at all. He left home to go live with dad, so it was just the two of us when she died in her sleep one night when I was 13.

It's funny because I am thankful for the way she raised me, while still being honest about the shitty aspects too. But truth be told, those shitty aspects helped make me who I am as well. But yes, it was frustrating as hell. Sometimes I got really mad at her for drinking and being completely out of her skull - sometimes for selfish reasons, sometimes not. Other times it did not bother me so much - I think I grew to accept it as part of "adult life" and just ignored it when possible. You kind of learn to entertain yourself and take care of yourself in these situations, things I assumed everyone knew how to do until I met some of my college roommates.

I'd be happy to share more if you want. PM me if so.

:)

[Wheezy]

18. These little tidbits are

very helpful. Thank you so much, unpossibles.

xo
Lisa

[Ariana Celeste]

15. Hmm.

I'm probably too late.

My mom seems to have a thing for drunks. I'm sure it's because she grew up with them.

I never met my birth father, but I've heard a couple of stories. Most have been kept from me, really I'm sure people just feel like they need to protect me. Even as an adult it's hard to get the truth from anyone. My mom has let a couple of things slip while she was drunk, and only because I pushed her to tell me. I hate hearing glorified stories about the man, all sugared up bullshit.

He died in a drunk car accident before my mom had even taken a pregnancy test. My mom swears up and down he was an affectionate loving man. Recently let it slip he had hit her a few times. Only real story I have regarding him is fairly short. Story goes he drank so much whiskey every day, it was common to find him passed out on the floor early in the day. One of these days, my older brother- then in Kindergarten (or was it first grade? No matter. He was young.) came home from school to find dad sprawled out on the floor, apparently so deeply passed out that Daniel couldn't wake him up. Poor guy thought our dad was dead, spent hours on the front porch bawling his little eyes out until my mother came home.

A decade later, my older brother also died in a drunken car accident. Oh my aunt swears up and down that Daniel wasn't drinking or anything, that it was another driver that was drunk. I'm fucking 23 years old and she still lies to me about it- or maybe she's just lying to herself. Again, no matter. I overheard the adults talking about it when I was a child. I know the truth. I'm pretty bitter about the people in my dad's side lying to me.

When I was a baby my mother remarried. The man basically raised me as his own, and to this day he's the only man I actually consider a father- although at times I get angry and say otherwise. I'm sure it would break his heart if he knew I only refer to him as Pops when he can overhear me. As a child I remember him being goofy and affectionate, never angry. Mom and him had those silent arguments, you know. They didn't yell or scream. I actually remember very little of my earlier childhood though, but I can easily recall running to the fridge to get Papa a beer. Stealing sips from the beer cans on the table when no one was looking. Anyways, they got divorced when I was 9 or so.

I often spent weekends, summers, vacations with him. Lived with him for a year in high school. He drank very heavily and was always depressed. By the time I was 13 I started drinking with him. He would talk about my mom for hours and hours. Sometimes lovingly. Sometimes angrily. Sometimes with tears in his eyes. I didn't have a room of my own, rather I slept in the living room. I generally had no choice but to stay up all night, and got in the habit of getting shit faced myself. Sadly enough it was the only way we could bond, because when I was sober I couldn't handle being around him, he pissed me off, I resented him in so many ways. Mainly because he could bond with my brothers all day long, go out and do things with them. But with me it was only when drunk, pouring me another shot, crying about my mother. (I look just like my mother, by the way.)

He had/has a lot of wild mood swings. Nasty memory problems, too. A tendency to make shit up when he couldn't remember exactly how a situation or conversation went, and then fight tooth and nail to defend what he "remembered." Every month he has a new favorite child, out of us 3 (or on occasion, whomever I might be dating.) Mostly between the boys. I loathe hearing who is "the Good Son." There were many nights as a teen that I had to help him get to his bedroom, often barely capable of walking myself. I missed a lot of school the year I lived with him due to hangovers, or being up til 4am listening to his childhood stories and feelings about my mom.

Today my little brother practically runs our dad's business and controls most of what goes on, because most of the time our dad is drinking too much to make any real decisions. I love the man, but there is a lot of resentment.

After he and my mother divorced, she started seeing an angry alcoholic who I'm fairly certain is a Narcissist. I've got a ton of stories about him, but I'd rather not go too in depth because he is living in my home right now (mom always runs back to this asshole) and I'm incredibly bitter about it. He is the only person in the world I can honestly say I hate. He's moving out soon, and maybe I'll PM you some stories after that when I've cooled down.

I will tell you the very first reason I ever had to hate him, though.

Remember how I mentioned my older brother died in a car accident as well? I was 9 at the time, it wasn't very long after the divorce. Pops had moved out of state and this new man was living with us. Mom came to my room one night to tell me what had happened to my brother. I was a fucking mess. I followed her out to the living room, bawling. This new man told me that crying wasn't going to bring my brother back, and if I wanted to cry, I could go to my fucking room because he didn't want to listen to it.

That should have told my mother right then and there that he wasn't good for our family.

Anyways, so I pretty much became a drunk myself and despite 6 months of drinking not a drop, I quickly fell back into the habit. I'm struggling with quitting right now, but I am surrounded by drinkers every day. And god damn does it soothe stress and make it easier to Deal with Life.

[speedoo]

16. I'm pulling for you Ariana.

And there are a whole lot of other people who are as well. You probably know where to find them.

I hope you are able to get close to those who are on your side, and get away from the drinkers in your life... if not physically, maybe emotionally, psychologically, whatever.

[Ariana Celeste]

30. sent a pm

ty :hug:

[Wheezy]

19. Ariana,

First, you're absolutely not too late at all. I usually spend a month mentally plotting a book before I write a single word. I'm absorbing these stories and trying to pull out the unique story that will fit the book -- and hoping that if some teenager out there reads it they can feel like somebody understands -- they are are not alone.

Everyone in this thread and in my inbox is helping me tremendously -- I am so grateful for your willingness to open up old (or not so old) wounds.

I'm pulling for you, too.

:hug:

[Ariana Celeste]

29. sent a pm

ty :hug:

[Skittles]

23. Ariana

you're looking at it wrong.....you quit for six months DESPITE having a lot of stuff against you, like little support and being around drinkers. So you know you can do it. And booze does NOT make life easier to deal with - the same problems you hide from while boozing are still there when you're sober. Don't give up! You're a wonderful person.

[Ariana Celeste]

28. sent a pm

:hug: ty

[Bennyboy]

35. Wow, I am with you there.......

It is very hard to deal with. I have spent about 25 years of my adult life sober, but sometimes I just go off for a couple of years. At first it is all fun but then it turns out hardcore.Every single time,

So take it day by day and if you are trying to become sober know there are people pulling for you. Anf if you do drik, it is not the end of the world. it is one day in your life and tommorow you won't drink, so don't go down that self aggrandizing pathway.

[AngryAmish]

17. well

Basic daily habits of your alcoholic parent -- sleeping hours, attitudes.
Wake up around 5 am, off to work by 5:15, work, come home at 4 pm usually. Sit and drink until 8 pm. Fall asleep in his chair. Wake up an hour later, go to bed.

The daily routine.
see above. Friday afternoons spend several hours in a bar. Bring me to bar on Saturday afternoon.


When was your parent usually "up" or "down" mood-wise -- was it consistent or unpredictable?
Usually pretty good.

What happened when your parent tried to quit drinking for a day or two?
Perish the tought.

Did you friends know about your parent's alcoholism?
Yes.

How did you feel about your parent? Love him. Still miss him.

[Wheezy]

20. AngryAmish,

Thank you very much for these answers. I really appreciate your time and help.

Lisa

[FedUpWithIt All]

21. My parents were both addicts...

A little background.

My father died when i was eleven (his car was hit while he was intoxicated and stopped on the freeway)but prior to that there were times when he would disappear for many days. He often cheated on my mother. He was an alcoholic and occasionally struggled with other drugs. He was a haunted man. He had a sad countenance around those he trusted with everyone else he was rather guarded (came off as light and fun). He was singlehandedly the least violent man i met during my childhood.

Before he died my mother began to pull away from the family. My father made an effort to be there for myself and my three brothers but it soon became clear that my mother intended to play house with her new, incredibly violent and angry, boyfriend. My father was not welcomed to stick around. It was not long before he died.

My mother went downhill fast. A lot of partying in the evenings. Lot of sleeping the days away. I was often responsible for the care of my younger brothers(1, 5, 8)

Over the years the patterns would change drastically depending on the current boyfriend or living arrangements.

There was a cycular process to her moods and behavior. She would disappear/fall off the wagon/drink (depending which stage she was in)it would last for days/weeks. She would be near death from physical exhaustion/suicide attempt/rape or beating and would rest for days/weeks. Often during this time she would keep myself and my brothers home from school. These were horrific times as she would threaten us with our removal from her home if anyone from social services should happen to stop by. We would often spend whole days sitting on the floor of her darkened bedroom quietly playing or coloring, eating nothing but the crackers or dried cereal we could find and prepare in her room while she slept.

After her recovery she would be in an apologetic mode. (lots of money spent on us during these times) The apology would usually lead into a fix up her life stage. This was for myself the most difficult. I felt i had to perform well to keep her from getting to the inevitable burnt out/frustrated/anxious to leave part of the process. Her creativity in new ways to try and "fix up" her life were many. One had to learn fast on ones feet to keep up with this bit otherwise the frustration could be quite deliberately directed.

Nothing was ever constant or predictable save the general outline of the process described above. One moment she would loving on me or venting her sorrows, the next she would be trying to kill me and blaming me for everything from my fathers previous infidelities to the fact that he had died. One day she would spend thousands of dollars on us during single shopping trips to Kmart and a few weeks later she would be gone and my siblings and myself would be eating old Army rations to survive. One moment she would be cooing over my pregnant belly the next she would be kicking the same as she shoved me down the steps.

When she would try to quit drinking for a day or two in the later years of her addiction she would get DT's. During this time i would have to sleep attached in some way to her to prevent her from "running away" or trying to harm herself. She would hallucinate (often terrifyingly) and i had to hold her and rocked her on my lap like a baby.

We tried rehabs countless times. Usually she would have a bottle with her on the ride to the facility. During one attempt to transport her she tried to jump from the car on the interstate and exposed herself to some preteen boys in a McDonald's parking lot (she was upset because they were laughing at her unusual behavior. She was sitting in the parking lot licking rocks and rubbing them over her body while she "chanted" incoherently. After this incident she "disappeared" for a time. Her nickname among the people she would drink with was "Sybil-Houdini".

EVERYONE knew about my mother's addiction. She was not above loudly having sex in a tent in the backyard in the middle of the afternoon while children played in the next yard or screaming like she was being killed in another neighbors backyard at 4AM.


What knowledge peers did not have from living within a close proximity or through being one of my friends they learned by my sketchy attendance and appearance (I weighed 94lbs and was 5' 7" during high school)at school. My school was so used to my absences that they would do everything in their power to help me try and get an education. This included the principal collecting my brothers on days they did not have school and bringing them to my school so i would not have to leave. They bought us all lunch and allowed hang around the office and deliver passes all afternoon. When a sibling was sick at school i would be allowed to return home without parental permission to care for them. All said i missed near 2/3rds of school one year. I never formally made it past ninth grade but i tried to stay in school the four years of high school. I ended up receiving my GED.

Eventually we were all removed and returned a number of times. Split and placed in foster homes, mental facilities, receiving homes...

I honestly could not tell you honestly how i feel about my mother. She has tried (more successfully)in the intervening years to become sober. She also has less power over my life now. As a result I feel a desire to protect her as well as a sort of repulsion to her. I have PTSD from my childhood and still occasionally dream horrific dreams that i know come from the old times and places. The echoes will never completely be silent. At the time i was her "child" i alternately hated and loved her, feared and fought her, and wished for her death while i tried desperately to protect her from it.

[Darth_Kitten]

25. I am speechless.

:hug:

[kwassa]

27. Incredible story

It really sounds like your mother has a major bipolar disorder, too, judging by the extreme mood swings.

more extreme than any that I know of, and I have been around some that I thought were pretty bad.

[FedUpWithIt All]

33. Good call. She is bipolar. Not easy to deal with.

:hug:

[Wheezy]

49. Wow.

Thanks, FedUp. I'm so sorry.

:hug:

[FedUpWithIt All]

63. I'm not...

but thank you. :hug:

I really do believe that without my life EXACTLY the way it was i would not be who or where i am. I feel almost blessed in the life i live now. I have a very loving immediate family, a good man, very little chaos, healthy (and VERY good) kids and an appreciation for the small and simple things. :7

I am not perfect and it is ok because i can see the value in my imperfections and i know how far i have come. :shrug:

One of the most valuable things that came from my experiences is empathy. I can see behind/beneath/beyond a fair amount of circumstances. For this i am REALLY grateful.

I appreciate what you are doing with your novels. Sometimes just knowing these things exist outside your own world can make a huge difference. Kids who do not live with these things should know that other kids sometimes do and children who do live under duress should see that chaos/abuse/neglect are NOT THE ONLY WAY OF LIFE.

[grasswire]

22. as the former wife of an alcoholic...

...I must tell you about the incredible loneliness the sober family member feels when the daily drinking starts. The drinker slips off to an altered state, and the sober one is alone in reality.

There are also a lot of fears and flat-out terrors associated for many sober family members.

[Wheezy]

50. That

is an excellent and important subtle factor. So noted.

I mentioned to someone in a PM that it's much easier to write a all-out drunken brawl than it is to nail the subtle, one-word/one-sentence details that define the character. This thread is incredibly helpful.

[Darth_Kitten]

24. Some highlights.............

wishing to hell your mother would divorce the drunk.

Having important family functions with much-beloved, now deceased family members always remembered with rage and sadness because the drunk didn't want to be there and acting like a petulant, two year old. :eyes:

Having sane/sober parent have you treat said drunk like a parental figure. Go talk to him about what you want to do after graduation. Oh, right, discuss my career/life plans with a vindictive drunk. No thanks.

Wondering just what the hell your friends really thought. (they were great friends, but looking back, you can only wonder what they heard about the drunk. Some of his antics I really can't talk about)

Having said drunk break your sister's arm (literally) and you are wanting desperately to stop this but you are too frightened because you are just a kid. :( And spending the rest of your life thinking if you could have done one thing over........ :(

Listen to drunk wail on he drinks because so and so got a B and not an A, or what have you. It really doesn't matter, huh?
They should just be happy they have a roof over their head and food in their stomachs. (I had a lot more before Mom met you)


Gee, any wonder why I am on the fence about getting married?

[raccoon]

26. My father died of alcoholism when I was a little kid, as were my sibs.

By the time I was old enough to remember him at all, he was pretty far gone. All I remember was an unpredictable, scary asshole who never took responsibility for anything.

My mother told a relative a few years ago, "The best thing he could do for them (his kids) was to die." At least that way we got social security.

I've never married and I'll always believe that was why. Because my parents' marriage was so horrible, I wanted nothing to do with that.

[FedUpWithIt All]

32. ...

:hug:

Hold everyone to their OWN merits or failings.

Don't let "said drunk" ruin more potential good in your life. Someone once said to me, "Quit renting them space in your head. Raise the property value."

Good luck to you and i am sorry for the struggles.

[Darth_Kitten]

66. He's sober now, for many years.......

which is positive. :) But it was very tough, looking back on my younger years.

[Wheezy]

51. thanks DK

:(

[noonwitch]

31. My dad successfully ran a business, but here are some funny stories

1. In later years, my dad's company was located on 28th Street, the busiest street in Grand Rapids. One day, there was a blizzard, and he was sitting in his office, drinking Chivas and watching the storm outside. He called home to tell us about each accident that occurred in front of the office.

2. My dad went on a Rotary Club trip to India for 6 weeks when I was in 9th grade. He came back jaundiced, but the leading local expert on all things India.
One day on Christmas break a year or so later, my brother was working at my dad's business, and listening to the local rock station, that all the teens in GR listened to. They did a news story about how it was illegal to kill cows in India, so there was a traffic problem in Delhi because the people just let the elderly cows wander until they got hit by a car and killed. My dad heard the story, and said "they don't know shit about India". He called the station, and they put him on the air to describe how once the cows are dead, the city workers then drag the corpses out of the city and leave them in a field for the vultures to eat", at which point the female commentator goes "Who is this guy?". When Tony, the morning guy asked him, he declared his name for every teen in my area to hear.

I'm the only person in my family, and one of the few in my neighborhood who managed to avoid seeing his slides of his trip. I don't know how I managed to.

3. When I was 4, my dad outdrove a tornado, with all of us in the car. I'm not sure if he was drunk at the time or not, but we had been at a friend's cottage and he had been drinking that weekend. We were on our way back to our house in Temperance (before we moved to GR), and we could see the tornado in the distance. My mom kept telling my dad to pull over so we could get in the ditch-his response was something like "what makes you think the ditch is so safe? If I drive really fast, we'll make it home before the funnel even gets close". He was right.

4. When I was about 25, my dad gave me a hash pipe. It was one of the things he brought back from India-I was looking at it and I identified what it was, and he said "do you want it?". He claimed that he bought it thinking he could smoke tobacco out of it (I don't know how stupid he thought I was), only to find out he liked his corncobs better.

5. When I was elementary school-aged, my dad would bring one of us to work with him on Saturday mornings and pay us to empty all the trash cans, ash trays, and to sweep the floors. We always got to eat breakfast at a restaurant on the way there, and usually stopped at his favorite bar on the way home so he could have a couple of quick shots of whiskey before heading home to mom. He and the guy next door were known for riding around their respective yards on their lawnmowers, with a Bud in hand.

6. My parents and their friends had almost weekly volleyball parties, that involved most of the men getting drunk on beer and trading insults with their sober teenagers. My dad usually drove us home from these occasions.

7. We had a creek that ran on the side and behind our house. The neighborhood teens used to go down there to smoke cigarettes and other things. My parents used to fight, because my dad would go down to the creek and talk with the kids, and my mom saw him lighting their cigarettes for them. His response was "You don't see them beating up our kids, do you?". He was actually getting high with them, we spied on them through the bushes.

My dad was more of a binge drinker than a daily drinker. He would get trashed at parties and big events, and as my parents' marriage started having problems, he started drinking more on a daily basis. He gave it up without rehab, cold turkey, about 12 years ago. He was never abusive to us (nor to my mom, who claims he was verbally abusive to her, which he wasn't), or at least to me.

He did drive drunk on a regular basis, sometimes with all of us in the car, too. My mom claims that she never let this happen, but my mom is a borderline and lies all the time. The laws have changed since then, too, and drunk driving is taken a lot more seriously by law enforcement.

[MichiganVote]

46. Hey did your Dad visit the Siler Derby on Burton near Eastern?

[noonwitch]

68. Maybe, but he always took me to Stephanie's on Eastern near 44th

Or to the Pump House at the Town and Country Shopping Center at 44th and Kalamazoo, but that was when I was older (like 22) and having drinks with him. We lived in Kentwood.

For breakfast, though, he took me to Terry's diner on Burton, west of Clyde Park. My dad's old office was on Burton, across from the Koeze's factory. Wasn't there an ice cream parlor near Eastern and Burton? I remember the old Alger Heights neighborhood-there was a small department store there and our pediatrician's office was there until it expanded.

[MichiganVote]

69. You're thinking of the dept. store Mitchells. They had really cute clothes there.

But my mother usually visited Arlens on Division, the basement of Stek's downtown or I had just had hand me downs. Yes there was an ice cream parlor at Eastern and Burton but I can't remember what it was called. We usually went to Millers Ice Cream on Burton near Eastern. We used to ride our bikes to the dime store at Alger Heights all the time. And swim at Garfield Park daily. My family belonged to St. Francis Xavier church (for all the good it did them).

I remember the Pump House but I think I only went there once with some friends in my early 20's. I never went to Terry's Diner but there were quite a few diners on 28th or Division in those days. I used to go to Fable's on Division in HS.

Anyway, howdy neighbor. :)

[Wheezy]

52. Great anecdotes!

I nearly got myself killed on 28th Street in March when I was on tour for my first book (love the Michigan suicide lanes, lol). I had a stop at Schuler's, and then in a mall with a children's bookstore, Pooh's Corner. :)

Thanks for writing these out!

[Bennyboy]

34. My dad was an alcholic.......

My mom would not let him drink in the house until I was about 13.

He hid a bottle behind the toilet, drank on the job (as a tile contractor) and was generally a pretty good father.

But every once in while he would come home late and have huge violent fights with my mother. Called her every name in the book, questioned her sexuality etc.

Once in while I would find him sleeping face down on the floor. At the time, I did not know what the deal was, but now I do.

My Father has always been a very intimidating person and would use violence or the threat of violence to dominate and abuse everyone in the family.

When i was 13 my uncle and his family came out from South Carolina, my Mom's family. They drank, and in the open. A martini every night at 4 PM. When they came it gave my Dad a license to be open about his drinking. And drink he did. But he is one of those drink till it's gone types (me too at times). So the drunken fights were more frequent. The abuse intensified. Although up until that point he had only given spankings, he was always very controlling and verbally abusive. Once I was at my Girlfriends house across the street, lost track of the time and literally kicked my ass across the street. In front of everyone. Then the threat of real violence became part of my life. getting backhanded at the table, that sort of thing.

As his drinking became more pronounced, he became violent to his friends and lost most of them. He would fight with anyone, over the littlest things.

Once he came home from drinking with his working buddies and looked through the mail. He found my checking acoount statement in there with the cancelled checks. Now, I was 15 I think, and this was my first checking account. I worked for my dad after school and on weekend and during the summer, so I had a checkbook. He noticed that everyday I made out checks to someone for five dollars. He asked me (more like browbeat) about it and I had no idea who it was. He accused me of buying drugs with a check (yeah right). At the time he became so abusive that I could not remember the checks. It seems that every day the roach coach guy came by and I wrote him a check but he wanted me to leave the payee line blank. So he had his wife cash the check and I did not recognize the name. In the hubbub I could not figure it out.

Of course the fight escalated, he started towards me in a menacing way, and I finally stood up to my Father. I told him I was going to kick his ass. Of course this is something that every father and son go through and they get over it. Not my father, He went to the bedroom and brought out a gun and pointed it at me. I was terrirfied and left the house then. Of course I came back eventually, after my dad threatened the family that was putting me up.

Since then he has done the gun thing so many times that I do not have a clear reccollection of any one incident, but only a composite of them all. Once he pulled a gun on me because I would not unload the trailer from camping fast enough for him. I have had to take him down many times, any time he even gets upset he fakes like he going for a gun and I wil never ever let him do that to me or my kids, so I take him down. He of course, thinks that I have beat him, but the truth is, I never hit him with my fists or kicked him. I just wanted to make sure he did not get the gun. As he has gotten older we have had to take the guns away from him a bunch of times. But he goes to a card room and gets another one so we are not sure if he has one or not.

He would drink (always double shots) and get very abusive to my Mom, Accused her of being a lesbian, a whore, sleeping with the people they were out with etc. In restaurants, church (yes church), on camping trips etc. But by now he was this way drunk or not.

As I got older and dealt with my own issues with alcohol (thank God I am a happy drunk) I have found out some things about my Father. One was he was married before he and my Mom were married. He beat his first wife when he was drunk to a pulp and was threatened by her family and never saw his two kids again until they we in their late 20's. They too have many issues with drug and alcohol abuse and his daughter abandonded a family of her own. She is now a great person and a great parent but spent her twenties abusing all kinds of drugs and once tried to commit suicide. I always thought of them as the lucky ones, they did not have to deal with him everyday like I did.

My father has always said "I want to be rich enough to get drunk and lie in the gutter all day". he still says that, but he can't drink anymore. But he is still the biggest asshole I have ever met. My Mom, although I don't have as much animosity towards her as I do my father, has always been afraid of him and let him terrorize everyone in the family. And for that I will always wonder why she let him do that to her, her children and granchildren.

[Bennyboy]

47. Whoops "Alcoholic" I mean.....

[Wheezy]

53. This thread

is one of the toughest threads I have ever read on DU. Jeebus. What a bunch of hard shit in this world.

Thank you so much, Bennyboy.

[Bennyboy]

64. It may be hard but....

in reading this thread it is nice to know that I am not alone. It gives me good perspective on the why's and such and how to end the cycle as best I can and deal with my own demons and how they came to be. For a long time I just thought I was fucked up and everything my father told me I was. But now I know, it was him and my Mom that are the fucked up ones and at least I am trying to better myself, at least mentally.

But as my father has begun the all too slow deescent in his own demise, any good things about him have disappeared and only the horrible are evident with him now. And I am the only one that gets to deal with it. And until the past two weeks most of the things I needed to say to him, I have not. but I have told him exactly how I feel aout him lately and it is hard, but it needs to be said.

So thanks for the words and everything will be okay for all of us if we learn about what went on and take care of it if we see things in ourselves that mirror those horrible things about our relatives.

[TrogL]

36. Being around a sneaky alcoholic

Most of the stories here are about people openly drinking. There are also sneaky alcoholics. You can spot them by concern for whatever innocuous looking thing they happen to be drinking at the time.

They'll pour everybody a big glass of pop, but very concerned that they get theirs (because their glass of orange juice or grapefruit pop has vodka in it). They'll be protective of their morning coffee because it's got Bailey's or rum in it. They've have hiding places you're not allowed to go into for one reason (it's the underwear drawer or it's full of something icky like old makeup) but it's really 'cause it's a booze stash. Or they'll be looking for cobwebs on a high shelf or "fixing the plumbing" when it isn't busted.

They'll prefer to bring their own coffee or own pop to places where it's provided because they've spiked it. They'll watch their kids' indoor soccer game from the bar instead of cheering from the stands.

At family celebrations they'll be the one concerned that there's enough booze, that everybody gets some, even forcing booze on people who don't want it, telling booze jokes to kids.

At a restaurant they'll barely be able to keep up a conversation because they're fascinated with what everybody is drinking and looking horrified when the waiter takes a half-empty bottle of wine back to the kitchen that somebody hasn't finished. If it's a celebration, they'll order a second, unnecessary bottle of champagne so they're sure to get enough (which is never enough).

There will be frequent trips to the recycle centre because they won't want anybody to notice piles of booze bottles at home, or them dumping a huge pile at the recycle counter and have the pastor walk up and see it. Or they'll leave a little bag in the back alley so some homeless person will make it disappear.

And watch for someone who's always "comfortably numb". Been there, done that.

[Wheezy]

54. Yet again

I am amazed at the info I'm picking up. I mentioned upthread about how subtle details are more difficult than bar-room brawls. You have given me a lot of subtle details. Thank you.

[EFerrari]

37. The main thing was becoming a little adult before I reached puberty

or even, before I had the capacity to be an adult. To always "act as if" I was an adult. It's funny in a way how well kids can fake it.

I got patted on the head by just about every adult in my life for running the house, taking care of my brother and keeping my mom out of real trouble since I was 11. It's so weird, in retro, that all these adults were just fine with the "job" I was doing.

They were so shamed to see an adult out of control that they overlooked the fact that an 11 year old kid shouldn't be running a household or caring for a three year old brother or skipping school to "be there" when Mom went belly up. That ambulance drivers took my signature on their paperwork when they were called to take her to the ER. Tens of those incidents. My mom was a single mom.

Once, my neighbor called my high school when Mom was drunk and loudly delusional in our home and my brother went next door, scared. My principal, counselor and a teacher drove me home, checked it out, patted me on the head and left me there to do "the job". They were good people. All I can think now is that they themselves were so shamed, they went stupid. On the other hand, they probably knew that the real choices they had should they try to intervene weren't good.

Good luck to you, Lisa. Those kids need all the attention they can get. :)

[FedUpWithIt All]

39. Sounds terribly familiar.

:hug:

[EFerrari]

40. My mom got sober when my son was born.

Thirty odd years now. A miracle, she should have died 25 times. :hug:

[FedUpWithIt All]

42. I am so glad to hear it.

:applause:


Mine had six years before she fell back into it all about 4 years ago. Once every few weeks she sort of "disappears" for a few days. Same thing happens as before but now it directly affects her alone.

[Wheezy]

55. sfexpat,

Thank you so much.

The book I'm writing now is the third in the series (the first one is in bookstores and the second come out next year). In the first two, the alcoholic mom was a very minor character. Janie (the main character) has that heavy sense of responsibility to care for her mother while simultaneously despising her.

In this third book, the mom becomes a central character and I knew I needed help. I am finding it here in spades.

:hug:

[EFerrari]

65. I love DU. And I adore my mum.

You go, Wheezy.

:hug:

[China_cat]

38. I was raised by an alcoholic, bulemic grandmother

in the days before there was a word for bulemia.

Daily habits: She was up by 5am to get chores done and drunk by 9. I'd often get home from school to find her passed out on the couch, but she'd be up in time to get supper. Super clean freak. You could put her rugs in an operating room and not spread germs. I think she could see them when she was drunk.

Attitude: verbally abusive to everyone. No one could ever do anything right. I was called 'dirty pig lazy' for not helping out in the kitchen, but she wouldn't let me help with the cooking and if I did dishes after a meal, she'd take them all back out of the cupboard and redo them. Often threatened to kill herself. Very scary for a small child, especially when you're told that it's all your fault that she can't stand being alive. Constantly told me that nobody wanted me to be born, nobody else would have me and that if it wasn't for her I'd be in an orphanage. (I often came back at her with 'why don't you send me there, then?')

I wouldn't know what would have happened if she tried to quit drinking. It never happened in my experience. Later, with senile dementia she quit but not voluntarily. At that time she no longer knew any of the family, including her husband of over 60 years.

I imagine my friends did know, I'm sure their parents did. But I was never allowed to have friends in or go to other kids houses. No birthday parties, no sleep-overs, nothing. It was a small community so hiding something like that was impossible.

How do I feel about my grandparents? Ambivalent. I loved my grandfather to distraction but the fact is that he flatly ignored the problem and refused to even hear any discussion about it. My grandmother...I loved her. And I hated her. They're both dead now and I don't miss my grandmother at all but I'd give anything to have some more time with Grandpa.

The one thing she left me with is an absolute horror of the phrase "what would the neighbor's think?" That was the one abiding lesson above all from her. You didn't do things because they were right, or not do them because they were wrong. You lived your life so the neighbors wouldn't talk about you. (Talk about hypocrisy)

[Wheezy]

56. Thank you

so much, China_cat. This is really helpful stuff.

:hug:

[ismnotwasm]

41. One of thing things you might explore

Is the behavior of a binge alcoholic. My father, who is one of the strongest individuals I know, stopped I don't know, maturing? many years ago. He's 72 now, and much of his emotional responses are those of a damaged teenager. He doesn't confabulate exactly, but he structures experiences in such a way that protects his ego, and ignores what most would consider factual. I can't quite describe it, except to say he constantly seems to act on who he thinks he is, or represents, and what he wishes actually happened rather than just-- being. He can stop drinking for years at a time, but never quite seems sober. Rage is a continual component, it's like rage of a two year old, (more and more incongruous as he ages)He works harder than anyone I've ever met, and is quite talented at remodeling houses. He can't hold friendships, tends to find exaggerated fault in people. He is impulsively generous, although he's a bit of a thug and rarely does something without thought of future return. A bully in the classic sense.

Personally, I grew up reactive to everything while being emotionally detached. Very little to buffer me from impulses. I don't think I had any friends who's parents were not impaired in some way, so it all was very "normal" to me. Like looks for like.
I was very troubled for a lot of years but I came to peace with all that and am surprisingly "issue" free. My mother now, is not. She's paid a heavy mental and emotional price for standing by her very troubled, sometimes brilliant, man. How I feel now? I don't personally "like" or love my father, but I do have a sense of moral obligation to both my parents. They did the best they could with what they had.

[Wheezy]

57. thank you ism,

this is another great perspective. I am grateful to you for sharing it.

xo

[gollygee]

43. Here's a bit

Routines - he woke up early, would start drinking around 3 pm, and would pass out asleep by about 6:30 at night, every night. He never drank in the morning or until he got out of work, but he'd start right away after work. We ate dinner by 5 because it wouldn't be possible later. He never seemed to have a hangover in the mornings. His behavior was erratic later in the day sometimes. Weekends were the most erratic because he was generally OK first thing in the morning and generally OK after he'd had a bit to drink, but the between hours were worse and we had more of those with him on weekends.

He only tried to quit a few times but he'd get really depressed and OCD-ish, like he'd have all these weird rules about how towels had to be folded and where and how boots had to be kept after we came in. Really weird and specific. And then he'd fly off the handle if something wasn't done well. These rules were totally arbitrary and inconsistent so there was no way to do things right.

My friends knew and some would joke about it. That was pretty embarrassing.

My dad was and is a loving man most of the time. He just was (and is) erratic. But I did love him and I do love him now. He is caring and has a big heart and truly loves us. But I was sometimes embarrassed by him. Like I'd have a friend over and he'd start drinking and get really drunk and loud. I just started not having friends at my house, except one friend whose dad was an alcoholic too so we didn't have to worry about what the other one thought. One time I was babysitting and the dad drove me home and my dad had friends carrying him up to the house as I was getting dropped off. He was so drunk he didn't recognize me - I'm not sure he even saw me. I was terribly embarrassed because the dad I babysat for saw and I was afraid they wouldn't want me babysitting their kids anymore. But my mom said that the dad was a psychologist or something like that who would understand, and sure enough he kept letting me babysit and never said a word about it. The other thing is that my dad would make promises all the time of things we'd do, and we'd get excited, and these things would NEVER happen. He'd talk about going to Disneyworld, or out west, or whatever, and it would NEVER happen. It was so frustrating. It's like you believe it at first, and the things don't happen, and eventually you give up, and then it's just painful to hear about it when he'd talk about it. I think I overcompensate about that now, like if we're unable to do something we expect with our daughter, I bend over backward to make sure it happens as soon as possible, because I don't want her to feel let down over and over again like that.

[Wheezy]

58. argh...

the promises and the letdowns. :(

Thank you for taking the time to write all of this down, gollygee. So many mental pictures (the guy driving you home from babysitting) are just painful. I appreciate your stories.

[MichiganVote]

45. Well.......

*Basic daily habits of your alcoholic parent -- sleeping hours, attitudes.

Father-drinking, sleeping, raging, more sleeping
Mother-mollycoddling his drinking and later drinking herself

---Both were mentally ill too boot---

*The daily routine.

Father- Great in the morning, bar after work everyday, dangerous after school through dinner
Mother- Great in the morning, abusive during the day, silent in the evening

*When was your parent usually "up" or "down" mood-wise -- was it consistent or unpredictable?

Father- The march of the mood disorder that was always present was in proportion to the amount he drank or the amount he needed to drink
Mother- She was a psycho on or off the beer

*What happened when your parent tried to quit drinking for a day or two?

Very funny--never happened

*Did you friends know about your parent's alcoholism?

All my friends had parents who drank in excess, not all of them had parents who were as abusive as mine--and no, we never, ever talked about it.

*How did you feel about your parent?

I no longer hate them but I'll never feel as though I love/loved them. They were horrid people. I made it out, my siblings did not. Most of them have or have had huge problems. I left all but one behind years ago.

[Wheezy]

59. MV

I'm really sorry for all the pain you went through. Thank you for telling me about it.

:hug:

[MichiganVote]

62. Oh believe me, what I've written here is the least of it. But thanks all the same.

For what its worth, I've counseled scores of kids with addicted parents. They all want adults to tell them that they are not alone in the experience. When I tell kids that in their school there are many kids who are living with or have lived with a parent with a problem, they seem to relax more. Some will be very open about their family members and their problems. I call it their translucent denial.

Lost Birthdays are a big theme.

[undeterred]

48. One day when I was home alone after school

I wanted to try alcohol - I had seen a bottle of Vodka under the kitchen sink. I was about 16. So I poured myself a glass of koolaid about 3/4 full and filled the rest with Vodka. When my mother came home a couple of hours later, she noticed the drop in the level and confronted me immediately, and I confessed.

Before this I had no idea that my mother drank. I never saw my parents drink except for New Years Eve or on the rare occasions that we had company. It was amazing to me that she noticed the relatively small amount of Vodka missing as soon as she came home- she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been using it frequently.

So, that was the day I found out that she drank on the sly. I don't drink alcohol at all.

[Wheezy]

60. This

is another one of those "sneaky" things. Thank you for telling me about this experience, undeterred.

xo

[Wheezy]

61. You guys

are blowing me away.

Thank you all for your generosity and willingness to help a stranger in such an unusual way. It means so much to me. I knew this was the right place to ask the question -- this lounge is one of the most generous places on the interwebs.

Normally, I thank people who have helped me in the acknowledgments page. However, this is an unusual situation and I would never do anything to expose your names because of the nature of the personal question.

Instead I'll put in a sentence about this special help I received from my online friends. And you'll know I mean you all.

This book I'm writing is untitled as yet, but we are leaning toward the title, GONE. It's the third and likely final book in the WAKE series, about 17-year-old Janie who gets sucked into other people's dreams.

Janie's alcoholic mother has played a minor role in the first two books (book 1 WAKE is out, book 2 FADE comes out in Feb) but she will become a central character in book 3 (scheduled for spring 2010). I knew I'd need help getting it right, and you all have given me so much to work with.

If any of you have other stories you'd like share, please don't hesitate or feel like it's too late -- I will be mulling over this thread and the private messages for the next few weeks before I dive into writing.

Peace, friends. You are heroes.

[Courtesy Flush]

67. My parents were "weekend alcoholics"

I know there's no such thing, but my mom heard the expression and figured it made her better than a "real" alcoholic. They started drinking heavily on Friday after work, and went all weekend, stopping early enough on Sunday so they could make it to work without a hangover the next day. I'm sure the people they worked with had no idea they were drunks.

Life with my parents meant forget about extra-curricular activities. Anything that required them to drive me somewhere on the weekend would cut into their drinking time. We just stayed home and watched our parents drink all weekend. I never counted how many beers they drank in a day. The previous post who mentioned a case a day blew my mind. I drink too much, but a six-pack in a day would be more than plenty for me. But I'm pretty sure my folks went through a case each. I remember that they always got a new beer as soon as they finished the one in their hand. Often the next beer was sitting on the table next to them (usually fetched by one of the kids) waiting while they were still drinking the old one.

They would laugh, slurring their words, and tell us how much they loved us, and how much they hated us, alternately. They blamed every problem in their life on kids. If it weren't for us, their lives would have been magically wonderful. I can't argue with that, though, since I have a great life, and never had kids.

Side note: One of my earliest life skills was to learn to open a beer can, in the days before pop tops. Using a metal "church key" (the pointy end of a bottle opener) we'd make a small hole on one side of the can top, spin it around and make a bigger hole on the opposite side. The little one was a vent, which allowed the beer to flow with no vacuum in the can.

And no. I never talked about it with my friends.

[EFerrari]

71. LOL! The first thing I learned to make was strong black coffee.

:hug:

[EFerrari]

70. The unpredictable part was pretty hard to live with.

It could be small and stupid or big and scary.

Small and stupid would be like having your mom promise to be there at your b-day party but forgetting because she's hung over and has to catch up at the office. Big and scary is like coming home from school with a few friends and finding your brother crying in the living room because a log has rolled out of the fireplace and is now burning the living room rug while Mom is giggling on the sofa at the absurdity of the whole thing.

Or, waking up in the middle of the night to a house filled with smoke, and her bed is on fire although she is nice and passed out.

You mentioned up thread something about your character despising her parent. I don't think most kids in that situation can afford to despise their parent/s knowingly. They usually (I did anyway) try to stifle their own feelings and shore that parent up because they need their parent to BE a parent. If there is disgust or anger or hatred or feelings of terror or abandonment, you keep them at arms length because you can't really go there while inside of the situation. It's not really a decision but more a survival measure. Or, something. :)