My Father Was An Alcoholic

Knowing some of my family and their hardships because of reputation I have been able to observe reputation’s inaccuracy first hand. For my entire childhood, I grew up with an alcoholic father. He never once laid a hand on me. That was something that he had promised me, he will never hit me, for as long as I live. He said if I ever made it to the point where I needed to be hit, then that was his fault. There are stories about him tangled up in fights when he was much younger, yet that is as far as his violent tendencies had come,as far as I am aware. One day my Mom had apprehensively explained to me that I would not be seeing my dad that week, an incident had occurred between him and his wife, now ex wife, my father had been taken to jail.

My great-grandmother was the matriarch of my family. When I was in seventh grade, around thirteen years old, she passed away due to breast cancer. This misfortune created an extremely difficult time for me because, not only was I adjusting to the environment of junior high, but many other issues were occurring in my life; this was the third death that I was having to deal with. Unfortunately, one of the previous deaths (that I was still trying to hurdle through and come to terms with), had occurred almost exactly a year before the passing of my great-grandmother. The second death that I had gone through occurred only one or two months before my great-grandma has passed. All of this turmoil created numerous internal conflicts for me, but also taught me a key lesson to keep note of, for the rest of my life.

Ever since I was a little girl I have always aspired to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps and become a prosperous attorney like him. He exerted himself strenuously, graduated from Northeastern Law School and was one of the founding partners of the Morrison, Mahoney and Miller Law firm currently located in Boston. It has been an arduous journey for me to verbally express the least endeavoring to follow my grandfather’s legacy. Shortly after graduating high school, my life consummately spiraled out of control and I was faced with adversity that seemed insurmountable. It is paramount to take a moment and apportion some brief history considering that I my past has molded me into the strenuously exertive, goal oriented student I have always aspired to be.

Many people across the world suffer from alcoholism, a family disease. It is called a family disease because the addiction harms the alcoholic, and everyone who has to live with them. Children consistently suffer when they share a house with an alcoholic. Unfortunately, alcoholism is common and many children find themselves in this situation. The emotional and psychological scars that children can develop in alcoholic homes can be so deep that they can last well into adulthood. Youth who grew up in an alcoholic home can develop similar personality traits and characteristics. Approximately 26.8 million children are exposed to alcoholism in the family and 6.6 million children 18 and younger live in households with at least one alcoholic

My maternal aunt gathered us together and we all sat on the couch. She turned to my mother and told us she had cancer. I looked at my aunt and I did not know what to say or how to respond. Three months later, my father received a phone call from his sister telling him that my pregnant cousin, Elizabeth, was diagnosed with leukemia and had to give birth to her premature baby. She and I grew up in the same house in Arizona and what hurt me the most was not being able to be with her during this difficult time. When we went to visit her in Arizona, my dad told us before entering the hospital room that he did not want us to cry in front of her. I was scared to enter. I did not know what to say to her but I knew I had to be strong. We stayed there for the holiday season but we never celebrated the holidays, that was too

The psychological effects of one’s childhood experiences can have a huge toll on the person we blossom into in life and that was the divorce of my two parents at the age of six. Growing up with an alcoholic father has had an outstanding impact on my self-worth. I could never see myself opening up to others; I could never be my true self in front of anyone except for a few people that have supported me through it all. I’ve always wondered over the period of my life that there was a reason for my father’s actions and why my father wasn’t there through the most important events throughout my sister and I’s lives.

She lost her parents at a young age, so her grandparents struggled to take care of her and her brothers. Soon after her sixtieth birthday, my mom married my father, and they both welcomed me two years later. I was born in September 1999; unfortunately, five months after my birth, my father died in the hands of a stranger from a gunshot to the head. Although both my grandmother and mother were devastated by his passing, they both decided to once again fight for our future and raise me.

Isabelle, a student of Elk County Catholic High school, a hater of alcoholism, been, what feels like cursed, by God for having to deal with something that's ripped my family apart, ripped me from my father, ripped me from my grandparents, ripped my parents apart. Living with someone who has alcoholism, and has tried to hide it is disastrous, it tears you apart finding those beer cans hidden in the corner of the storage room, or the case of beer hidden in the back of the car. If you have a family member or a a friend struggling with alcoholism, then I urge you to read this letter. As always grace and peace to you and your family, and have a blessed day.

Challenges that still face are the relapse his father with alcoholic abuse, it would be 2-4 years sober because he would swear to the Virgin Mary. Once his dad does the years he swears in church he binges drinks until he becomes abusive and then swears in church again. The economic status his family lives in, living in poverty, lack of resources for not only him but younger sister as well. Issues John remains to have are anger management, lack of social skills, and support system. Due to John not telling anyone about the abuse at home and learning that it is okay to express his feelings and to talk to another adult for help, lead him to have difficulty expressing his emotions.

Lonzell Jr and Shakyra's mother (Shelia) is an alcoholic. Lonzell Jr's dad (Lonzell Sr.) is an alcoholic and smokes marijuana in the home. Shelia and Lonzell drink alcohol around the children. Shelia and Lonzell get drunk around the children. Shelia and Lonzell annoyed the children while they're drunk or high. The children have access to the alcohol. Lonzell Sr. and Shelia leaves the alcohol out in plain view. The children do not mess with the alcohol. Lonzell Sr. smokes marijuana around the children. Lonzell Sr. is not manufactured marijuana in the home. Lonzell Sr. is not selling marijuana out of the home. Lonzell Sr. has someone (unknown) brings him the marijuana to the home. Due to Lonzell Sr. being sick and used a walker. The children were at home

Addiction is a disease that not only affects the person with the addiction but the family as well. The children that grow up in this environment take on different roles in their family to try and cope with their environment. According to American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy, there is an estimate of 26.8 million children that are exposed to alcoholism in the family (2015). As these children grow up they develop many common characteristics into adulthood. These characteristics have a lasting impact on their lives.

Back in the days, my wonderful Grandmother died in 1980 and left a few things around. My Mother went to her house to find out what she left in her house. I wasn’t born then but my mom told me what happened we really miss our grandmother and how she made us laugh and cry at some times. When my grandmother was alive she used to tell us how slavery was back in the days. We used to actually cry when she told us that we couldn’t believe how they use to get treated back in the days .My grandmother was a helping kind lady that helped us when she could that was the only person that looked out for us. She was the best in the world I know everybody else in the world wish they still have they grandmother. Whenever we didn’t have anything to eat my grandmother would make us something

I clearly remember the day I found out about my granddad's passing. I was at school. It was a normal, joyful day. My dad was planning on picking me up, but instead my friend's mom picked me up. He would not tell me why, but I did not think much of it. I remember the car ride to my house. My friend's mom would not tell me why she was driving me home; all she told me was, "Just know, Ryan, that we will be here for you no matter

October 10th, 2013 at 7:30pm. The day of my grandma death. The day that changed my life forever. The day I will never forget. My grandma was my everything, she was the lady who raised me since I was born. I never had a mother or father, the only person who cared for me was my grandma. The day my grandma died I was in my senior year of high school and I had just came home from cheerleading practice. That was an unusual day for me because when I woke up that morning my grandma wasn't up cooking breakfast like she usually does she was in her bed asleep still. I looked outside and the sun was just rising. I went in her room that morning before I left for school and said these exact words, "Good morning grandma if you’re not feeling well, I could stay home with you and take you to the doctor." In a raspy low voice my grandma replied, "Good morning sweetie I'm okay I was just feeling a little sick this morning but I'm better now. You better get to school now before you are late.” Okay, Grandma Love you, call me if you need me", I replied. On my way to school all I thought about was why my grandma sounded like that this morning and how she wasn't up doing her normal routine. I have never seen my grandma get sick before. She was always the one taking care of me making sure I was okay. But I just pushed the feeling over just thinking my grandma was okay and I was just overthinking. I should've stayed home that day. I should've noticed that my grandma really was sick.

June 11, 2015. It was a regular summer day, or so I thought. Only five days until my fifteenth birthday and I was super excited. My mom had taken the morning off from work to take my grandmother to the doctors. She was going for her regular heart check-up appointment. As we always did, my mother and I drove that morning over to the nursing home in St. Matthews, South Carolina. My mother had recently entered my grandmother into the nursing home because my mom needed to start working more and could not fulfill the obligations of taking care of my grandmother like she normally would. When we got to the nursing home, we parked the car under the awning which was in the front of the nursing and covered a little walkway where people loaded their family members. I got out first and headed back to the room as my mom followed closely behind. When I walked into the room, I saw my sweet loving grandmother sitting there. As always, my beautiful grandmother, with her white hair, her green eyes, her frail but beautiful skin, and her smile glistened as she awaited her day out. My grandmother did not get out much so even going to the doctors was a good day out for her. We helped her into her wheelchair, a normal struggle for my mother and I, and we rolled her down the hallway to the car. We loaded her into the car, another struggle, and we headed off to Orangeburg which was where the doctors office was. While riding to the doctor's office my grandmother mentioned that her hands looked green