If you've been reading this blog, my hope is that you realize you are not alone in dealing with an alcoholic parent, friend, or family member. If you have had to deal with alcoholism affecting your childhood, I urge you to seek support and help. You don't have to deal with this on your own, there are other people out there who know and understand exactly what you've been through and have to deal with a lot of the same repercussions and issues stemming from those childhood traumas.
If you are a teen or adult and you would like to seek support in coping with the alcoholic in your life, you can find help with the organization Al-Anon. They offer support for families, children and teenagers in a variety of ways. Know that you are not alone, it is not your fault, and there are other people who have been there and are willing to walk beside you through it.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Monday, April 1, 2013
The Effects of Alcohol Abuse
Long term alcohol abuse can lead to many health problems that affect quality of life. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, some of the long-term health risks associated with alcoholism are:
- Neurological problems like dementia, stroke, and neuropathy
- Cardiovascular problems
- Psychiatric problems including depression, anxiety, and suicide
- Social problems like unemployment and family problems
- Cancer of the mouth, throat, esophagus, liver, colon, and breast
- Liver disease such as alcoholic hepatitis and cirrhosis
- Pancreatitis and gastritis
The picture below from the UNC School of Medicine shows scans of how the brain is altered by alcohol.
The brain is probably the most important organ in your body, but alcohol doesn't only destroy the brain, it can destroy your entire body.
There are not many benefits to alcohol consumption, and there is a long list of risks associated with alcohol use or abuse. Overall, I'd say the risks far outweigh the benefits.
Myths Believed by Children of Alcoholics
If you are the child (or adult child) of an alcoholic, it is likely that at some point you have believed some or all of the following myths:
I am the reason that my mom/dad drinks and it's my fault they are an alcoholic.
It is my job to fix my alcoholic parent.
If I did something differently, then he/she wouldn't drink.
My parent doesn't love me, if he/she loved me then he/she wouldn't drink. I must be unlovable.
These statements are untrue and sadly believed by the majority of children of alcoholics. If you are one of those people, please know that these things are not true. There is nothing the child of an alcoholic can do to keep their parent from drinking.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Discovering the Disease: Mom's First Stint in Rehab
Fourth grade is the first time I remember my mother going to rehab. I didn't really understand what it meant at that age. I don't even remember how my family told me that Mommy was going away to live somewhere else for a while, leaving me with her then-current boyfriend (whom I did not get along with). What I do remember is visiting her several times in rehab. My mother used to joke that the movie 28 Days was made about her life, even down to breaking her leg and being on crutches because of a drunken escapade. And while I only visited, I don't remember rehab being quite like this:
As funny and feel-good as this movie turns out to be, it doesn't depict the true experience of an alcoholic in rehab, or at least not most of them. When my mother went to rehab, it was a grueling time of detoxing and working hard on maintaining sobriety. Unfortunately, she was never able to stay sober. She has done several stints in rehab throughout my life and her addiction still consumes her and haunts every corner of her life.
The thing that I took away from my mother's time in rehab was that all of this chaos and hurt and struggle finally had a name to me: alcoholism. Up until that point, I didn't understand why things were the way they were. While I could see major differences in my life compared to that of my friends and classmates, I didn't understand why my life wasn't normal. I was a child struggling to make sense of it all, not understanding that there was more happening than I could see. Many children have a hard time grasping the concept of this disease that steals loved ones and destroys families. Now that I finally had a name for the havoc that wrecked my world, I was determined to learn all I could about this monster that stole my mother.
Chaos: It's All You Know
On some level, I think I always understood that I was different from my friends. Some of my earliest memories in elementary school were moments in which the harrowing fact that I was unlike them hit me like a knife twisted in my gut.
My classmates did not share the same experiences, the same fears, the confusion or the disenchantment that enveloped my childhood. Most of them went home to a mom - and maybe a dad, too - and siblings in a quaint little house in the suburbs. They had parents that would care for them, pack their school lunch, go to their sporting events or recitals, play with them, make them do their chores, but also give them a sense of stability. I, on the other hand, went home to a chaotic environment where I never knew quite what to expect. There were few things that I could count on, but my mother was not one of them.
"Home" was rarely just my mother and I. Sometimes we would live with my grandparents, other times we would live with her various boyfriends. I couldn't always count on her being there, but I could count on the fact that if she was there, she'd be drunk.
The environment that an alcoholic creates in a home is one of chaos and toxicity. It's not really a home with an alcoholic, it's more like a battle ground. My mother's drinking led to massive blow-outs of screaming, fighting, and physical altercations. She would fight with her parents, her boyfriend, and with me. There was nothing off-limits, no sacred line drawn. An alcoholic will do anything to fuel their addiction, regardless of how it hurts other people.
By the nature of the fact that I lived in constant chaos and turmoil at home that my friends didn't seem to understand, I knew I was different. But at a tender young age, I had no idea what to call it. I didn't understand how to communicate at all, and I only knew my frustrations and insecurities at being unlike everyone I went to school with. I was terrified and alone, just longing for someone to help me understand what was happening and how to make it stop.
My classmates did not share the same experiences, the same fears, the confusion or the disenchantment that enveloped my childhood. Most of them went home to a mom - and maybe a dad, too - and siblings in a quaint little house in the suburbs. They had parents that would care for them, pack their school lunch, go to their sporting events or recitals, play with them, make them do their chores, but also give them a sense of stability. I, on the other hand, went home to a chaotic environment where I never knew quite what to expect. There were few things that I could count on, but my mother was not one of them.
"Home" was rarely just my mother and I. Sometimes we would live with my grandparents, other times we would live with her various boyfriends. I couldn't always count on her being there, but I could count on the fact that if she was there, she'd be drunk.
The environment that an alcoholic creates in a home is one of chaos and toxicity. It's not really a home with an alcoholic, it's more like a battle ground. My mother's drinking led to massive blow-outs of screaming, fighting, and physical altercations. She would fight with her parents, her boyfriend, and with me. There was nothing off-limits, no sacred line drawn. An alcoholic will do anything to fuel their addiction, regardless of how it hurts other people.
By the nature of the fact that I lived in constant chaos and turmoil at home that my friends didn't seem to understand, I knew I was different. But at a tender young age, I had no idea what to call it. I didn't understand how to communicate at all, and I only knew my frustrations and insecurities at being unlike everyone I went to school with. I was terrified and alone, just longing for someone to help me understand what was happening and how to make it stop.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)