Confessions of An Alcoholic’s Daughter
I have been through quite a bit in my (almost) twenty-two lifespan on this earth. I have hurt, been hurt, and been incredibly happy. I have debated for close to three years now about whether or not I wanted to ever expose myself, my family, more importantly my father in all his pride, and the feelings that come with it all. In my relationship with Christ, I have realized that I can’t share my testimony, or how God has worked in my life, without talking about this. I have realized that there may also be people like me. I have realized that holding it in, when someone could be looking for comfort in the same situation, is sort of cruel. If God gave me any talents whatsoever, it would be the words I spew through a computer screen or with pen and paper. So here I am at alcoholic’s daughters anonymous. My name is _____ and I am the daughter of an alcoholic.
1. I have never been drunk & I never plan to be.
In sixth grade, I sat in my, at the time, best friend’s room with two beers we had stolen from her parents’ kitchen. We opened it and giggled as we tried to swallow the bitter, fizzy liquid. It was vile. And it tasted like the time I got my McDonald’s Iced Tea confused with my dad’s other McDonald’s cup full of BudLight: fizzy piss water. I tried again in high school with my then-and-now best friend, but avoided beer and went straight for vodka with some warm Gatorade and orange juice. It was a bad idea, burned my throat, and was an awful experience. I did have drinks of Smirnoff, Blue Moon, and others a few times in my adolescent days. Never enough to get drunk or even feel out of my element. I tried again as an adult only to be swallowed whole by a tsunami of anxiety that my boyfriend had mistaken for being drunk and continued to tease me about. Google says it’s a psychological issue due to the experiences I’ve had with alcohol and substance abuse. I once spent an entire evening cleaning out all the empty beer cans and liquor bottles from my dad’s room, and discussing his healthcare plans with members of our family because we had no clue what would happen. I feel like that moment alone is enough of an “excuse” to not want to drink. People in my family say to “never say never”, but I don’t think they understand when I say that I can honestly never drink. The anxiety, the fear, whatever it is… I’ll either 1. Make a fool of myself and be embarrassed forever, or 2. Become an alcoholic. Both of which I would love to live my whole life without. I will never drink, and I feel that I do not have to explain myself in that issue. If you, or anyone you know has ever had to dump empty beer cans, try to wake up a drunk to move them to their room, give up your bed for someone you love to sleep on because they are homeless, clean up throw up, drive through the bad parts of town in search of someone you know is intoxicated, drive someone to seek help and research yourself about rehabilitation centers… if you’ve gone to bed worried you’ll wake up in the morning to a call you don’t want to answer, you’re not alone. And it’s okay. I understand.