{Painted Pictures With Words}: July 2013

Here, is my story. Be gentle.

Growing up in a home with addiction is one that is rarely spoken of. The fact is, it is extremely shameful growing up in an environment where the person, your hero, doesn’t love themselves. When a parent suffers from an addiction and underlying depression leads them to love you in the best way that they can, but hardly enough to fulfill your needs.

Growing up in a home with addiction is full of uncertainty. It is impossible to predict what each day will bring, which causes children to develop anxiety and depression. You’re sad that you have any control of your environment, and that no matter how hard you try the person you love doesn’t know how to love themselves. Your parent can’t see the greatness that you see in them. You watch their struggle. You try to cheer them on and be their brightest star; even though each day their pain kills you silently. You can’t show it because the addict already has enough to feel sad about. You paint a face where no one could even imagine the pain you feel once you leave school, work, etc. In fact, when you finally tell your closest friend about your life they have a hard time believing you. You learn to act in such a way that everyone thinks you have the perfect life. BUT you don’t.

You live a life where you either hate the addict, or you try to prove yourself to them. You try to be the very best at whatever you do so that maybe your feeble attempts at being perfect will make them realize they have succeeded. Ultimately you are the one who feels bad because no matter what level of perfection you aim to meet (and you do) you don’t win their attention, approval or love. As children you don’t understand it’s them not you.

We all develop coping styles to make it through each day. Times where we are frustrated with their behavior we may lash out. We may yell at them and tell them we hate them. Truthfully we don’t. We don’t hate them at all. We love them so much it hurts us. We hate their addiction. We immediately feel regret after showing our real feelings about their addiction and try to patch up our “ugly” feelings.

We have learned that “happy” is the best way to be. Happy doesn’t get questioned by teachers, or other adults who may wonder about our home lives. Feeling sad, or angry is put into a category of “bad”. We learn to push those feeings aside because we know they are unrecognized and scolded.

Growing up in a home with addition sucks! You lose your childhood. You realize quickly that you are taking care of your parent, and that they don’t take care of you. You feel broken inside. You begin to get used to a life of chaos. You worry every single day that they will decide to end their life, or based on their decisions life should take them away from you. AND realistically one of three things will happen, they will kill themselves, life will kill them from their abuse, or they will get better.

In my situation, my dad did not win his battle. WE lost. There were many stages to the grief of an addict. The first feeling I felt was the one I explained above. The second stage or feeling was anger. INTENSE anger. I was so angry I couldn’t be around him without every “bad” feeling I ever felt raging inside of me. I let him know in every situation possible how much I hated him. I felt no remorse for the anger I felt.

The third stage I felt was bargaining. I was willing to change anything in my life for the addict to change himself. I thought if I forgave him for his inability to love the child that I was, and learn to accept him for the person that he was, then things might change. If nothing else I hoped to never have regrets. Life gives you chances to heal but it is up to you to acknowledge these opportunities and take them. After dad’s second near death experience we developed the closest relationship of our lives. We became best friends.

The fourth stage I felt was major depression or sadness. The darkness that I experienced was my own. Only one person witnessed the pain I felt. I blocked everyone else out. J.K. Rowling compared depression to the dementors in Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling described the dementors as She describes this emotional state as the "absence of being able to envisage that you will ever be cheerful again. The absence of hope. That very deadened feeling, which is so very different from feeling sad." I felt worse then that explanation. Not even my own family knew it.

I realized eventually that his love and acceptance wasn’t coming. He wouldn’t save me from my pain. I stopped looking for him to give me the love I needed. I learned how to love myself even if he didn’t love himself or me the way I wanted him to. It started slow, but eventually we hung out all the time and talked every night. He still drank every day. The difference was within me. I was beginning to accept his illness. I would have loved him to change and live a long happy life. For whatever reason it was not in this life’s plan. I learned patience and honesty. I was able to tell him when I was disappointed in him and also continue to love him. He was able to see the pain his drinking caused by my own suffering and depression. He knew he could tell me anything and I wouldn’t judge him, but offer him my open opinion. For better or worse I stopped trying to change him. I realized that if you love someone, then you love him or her exactly the way they are. This means even if they aren’t who you want them to be you love them faults and all. You accept all of them.

Since this has occurred, he has passed. I truthfully believe that I had to let go of him before his soul could pass on. I consciously made the decision that I understood he was not happy here and that no matter where he had to go I wanted him to go where he would be happy, even if it meant I would be sad; that’s where I wanted him to be.

Days before his death I dreamt of a black crow being electrocuted. In a world where logic trumps emotions and spirituality this would have been overlooked. I consciously told someone about the dream and accepted the reality. The day my father passed away I was walking to school with the sun on my face and I knew. It was 8:10 in the morning. I had a very strong feeling that he would be taken from me soon. At 8:15 pm I texted someone close to me that I thought he was going to pass. At 9:30 pm I received a call from the same person I spoke with earlier that he had passed away. I cried until my tears wouldn’t come out. I realized everything that we had fought for was over. The fight was over. We lost.

Nothing you read, or people you speak with will prepare you for losing a parent. It is an inevitable part of life for the majority of us. When addiction is involved it adds another dimension. You wonder what your role in life is without them. You have only known how to take care of them. After they pass it’s almost as if you are recreating yourself.

In my situation I coped by hiding my emotions with schooling, and perfection. It was a blessing and a curse. I am and will continue to be successful, however I need to do everything for myself and not to cover up pain. I don’t know if I’ll be 100% “okay” but I fight every single day for myself and for others like me. I fight so that other children know that if they can learn to believe in themselves like I have, then they will succeed. I take healthy choices everyday, and learn to enjoy the simple things. Strategies that I have found helpful include counseling, music, writing, painting, and exercising.

There will always be a crack where that missing piece is, but with time and self-acceptance it can be a learning tool. I know when I do decide to have children that I will be the best mom possible. I also know that I won’t be the statistic and marry someone like my father. I have a choice and so do you. We have the choice to break the cycle, even if each step of the way is uncomfortable. If you take anything away from reading this, I hope you know that you are not alone. It does get easier, but it requires you, the child of the addict to do a lot of work. It will be painful, dark and scary but I promise you it will be worth it.

**I hope you learn to allow yourself to feel every emotion “good” or “bad”. I hope you seek counseling and not view it as weakness. I hope you follow your dreams. Lastly, I hope you challenge yourself everyday to break the cycle of abuse and addiction. If I have helped one person through their battle then I feel blessed.

References I found useful:

After The Tears-Jane Middleton
ACOA-Janet Woititz