#49: Addiction and My Father

I spent last weekend in Washington with my brother and sister celebrating my father’s 70th birthday. During this visit, I reflected on my relationship with my father. Unfortunately, addiction made him a stranger. I often wonder how I survived my childhood (no humor intended). As the child of an addict, I can tell you it isn’t like the movies. I don’t think there is an illicit drug or way to get high (or low) that my father didn’t at least attempt once. If you could smoke, drink, snort, or pop it, dad was all in. My father’s addictions did not hold any poetic or noble lesson. In fact, I rejected virtually every life lesson he attempted to instill in me throughout my upbringing. He did not have the mental or physical ability to show up as a dad. 
 
I Was So Lonely
Few truly understand how isolating life is as a child of an addicted parent. I carried so much shame. If we had electricity, it was usually stolen from a neighbor, the house was dilapidated and filthy, and we rarely had heat. If our clothes were laundered, it was because my dad’s mother would collect our things to do them at her house because we didn’t have a washer or dryer. Making friends was so challenging. I couldn’t have friends over to my house (for obvious reasons) and I felt completely out of place at anyone’s house with a “normal” home life. 

Invisible
As a defense mechanism, I learned how to make myself invisible at home. While my dad is a "happy" addict, he was not a protective parent. Our home was filled with addicts, abusers, prostitutes and the like. Police officers and occasionally the SWAT team would check in on the house. I witnessed violent rampages and knew how to make myself invisible–because I had no one to run to for protection. If my father saw someone hurt me, he would do nothing to help. In fact, he would add to my pain by laughing and teasing me if I was visibly upset. All I could do was hide, freeze, and remain expressionless, so they couldn’t feed off of my pain and sadness. Eventually, they’d move on to the next thing or pass out–either was fine by me. 

Breaking Away
I wish I could say my father came to his senses, recovered, and is overcoming his disease with addiction. However, the reality is that has never happened. He used when I was a young child and continues to do so today. I graduated high school with a second-grade reading level. I barely got by in school–let alone could I be an academic whiz. I was fortunate in one respect though. I learned that children from my background are FOUR times more likely to become substance abusers into adulthood. That was never me. On both a conscious and subconscious level, I rejected alcohol and drugs. I graduated high school, moved to California, and ran from the life I knew. 

Sins of the Past
I didn’t escape completely unscathed, though. I was an emotional wreck. I struggled to relate to others in any normal or healthy way. I cried and feared my parents' demons, which stole my childhood, could also steal the childhood of my own children. However, I broke that cycle. 

A Whole New Life
I refuse to let the demons of my past define my present or future. I unfortunately know terror and stress well, and many emotional wounds from my childhood cut deep. But I’ve learned how to open up and connect to others in positive ways. My relationship with my husband, friends, and children are better than I could have ever dreamed. I broke the cycle for my children and continue to heal myself from the pain of my childhood. With the help of my husband Steve, we have built a beautiful life with healthy, happy children. 

I am Free and at Peace
Since I left home after high school, my relationship with my dad has been minimal. Early on I realized I didn’t have to hate or battle my way through life each day. Through forgiveness and letting go, I was able to reach acceptance and find empathy. My father has a disease. I made the commitment to visit my father once a year. During these visits my intention is to laugh and enjoy the time together. I don’t dwell in the past, try to fix him, or stew with hate. Instead, I hope to create new, positive memories with whatever time we have left in this lifetime. 

Until Next Monday…