My dad is an alcoholic.
I know that it is something that so many people are affected by. But it's something that has had a massive effect on my life.
When I was younger I didn't really know that he was one but I knew something was up with him. My epiphany happened when I was 11. It was my birthday and my dad came to our house to borrow money from my mum. He had no idea it was my birthday but that wasn't anything new. The next time he saw my sisters and I he took us out for an amazing day in London; cinema, ice cream, shopping. It was bittersweet; finally years of sitting at the window waiting literally hours for him to pull up late every week were starting to make sense. He wasn't someone I could rely on to be there when it was important.
On Father's Day he was taking us out and we made it 5 minutes away from our house when we got pulled over and his car got towed because he hadn't paid his insurance. It got crushed with our presents and handmade cards still inside. I refused to cry because my two sisters were crying. I had to stay strong for them.
We didn't see him for a while after that.
He lost his job and decided he wanted us in his life again when he found God.
We met him near his house. He was so obviously drunk and started crying about how we weren't there for him and he was a good father. On the way home my sisters were crying but I just couldn't.
A few months later we found out he was moving out of the country and he wanted to see us again. I couldn't go but my sisters went. He thought it would be a good idea to tell one of them that she was "too white" ( we are mixed race) and she was always picking at him and wasn't a good daughter. Needless to say the visit wasn't long.
He turned up at our house drunk and wanted to stay the night because he was lonely. I will admit I cried. He was a shell of the man I used to know.
He came to our house drunk and told me that I needed to respect him because he was my dad. That I had a temper and I needed to look after my sisters and I wasn't doing a good job. I told him he had no right to tell me anything , I told him he needed to fix up before he could tell me to do anything. He had picked on my sisters, exploited my mum and had failed my older half brother and he came to me to say I was the fuck up??
He told me I had a temper like my older half brother and he would disown me like he did to him.
So he did.
Honestly I was proud I had finally stood up to him and I was proud I was like my brother. That was the only link I had to him because thanks to my dad I had never met him.
I disowned him. It's been almost a year since this happened. I don't know if he is alive.
It's been a tough year- I've been diagnosed with depression and have struggled with panic attacks, paranoia and anxiety. I pushed away my boyfriend, the love of my life. But I don't want to seem weak so I won't tell anyone or ask for help. I don't want to be given pity or have excuses for failure. If I fail it's because I didn't work hard enough, it didn't care enough. It may not be a healthy approach but it works for me.
My life isn't bad at all. Yes it's been difficult but I can tell you about 10 people who have had it worse.
My dad is the thorn in my side but I refuse to blame him for anything that goes on in my life. I make my own choices.
I love him, the old him. Not the mean bully who he became. But I can't forgive him especially for what he put my sisters through. We lost someone so important in our lives to drink. He could have been amazing, I know it! He had the brains and passion but never used it. It is heartbreaking but that's the past that I can't change.
I miss him so much every day and I'm angry that he wasn't able to fight the pull of the alcohol.
Moral of the story- drinking isn't worth it.
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