Personal Narrative: Alcohol, Scars, And Broken Hearts

Growing up, I dealt with a mother who struggled with addiction; to be unambiguous, she was an alcoholic. She drowned in her alcoholism as it pulled her down an alarming road. She was dreadfully depressed and believed that alcohol was the only way to make her feel better, addiction blinded her from what a great life she could have ahead of her. Not a single member of our family knew how to help her comprehend how much happier she would be if she could stop drinking her sorrows away. When it came to family events, my mom would try to conform to how others were acting and act “sober” even though she was already countless drinks deep in to drinking. Nevertheless, my mother just wanted others to like her which would lead her to change her outward

I came home one day to see both of my parents sad. As a third grader, I didn’t completely understand at the time, but my father had been laid off from the job he’d had since his teenage years. My father had started at the age of eighteen as a student worker at Southern Miss, and after years of hard work he had been promoted to the manager of shipping and receiving on campus. When the recession struck, the need to save money resulted in his position being terminated. My father was without a job. My father loved that job and when he lost it, he changed. He found a new love, alcohol. He let his love for alcohol become an addiction. He would do anything for alcohol; he even had secret stashes when my mom had removed all the prior alcohol from the house. Quickly my father became a violent drunk and began to routinely beat my mother and me. He became unstoppable; no person could get him back on track so my mother, in an attempt to keep me safe, removed him from the house. Even my mother’s best efforts weren’t always enough, as my father constantly broke into our house. One day my mother and I came home and my father was waiting in our den with a gun. We walked in, he pointed the gun at us, and then back at himself. He couldn’t decide to kill my mother, himself, or just all of us. He had more hatred in his eyes

Six years ago, a summer afternoon, my dad hugged me and I said “I will be gone for three days, I have a job in Austin, but I promise that I will be back before your birthday. I promise.” Days, weeks, months almost two years passed by and I did not receive any phone call or text message from him. Throughout that time my dad was gone, my mom told me that she was getting the papers ready to divorce my dad. I was noticing that the last three-four years that I was living with both of my parents, their relationship was getting worse. It was not a healthy situation for anyone in the house. What I mean about not being healthy is that my mother and father were damaging one another, emotionally and verbally, which my brothers and I would watch everything. Every day was the same routine, we forgot how it was to have a peaceful home. Around that moment, I honestly never thought divorce was going to be their solution.

My relationship with drugs first began during my senior year of high school. While most of my peers attended their first parties years earlier, my first was not until I was already 17 years old. I still remember feeling so cool for attending my first party and having my first sip of alcohol. The feeling of being drunk was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I felt liberated, like I could break out of my quiet shell and be that fun, goofy person that everyone wanted to hang out with. Prior to this night I had never used any type of substance, legal or illegal. Since then I have continued using alcohol while also trying various different types of drugs including caffeine, marijuana, tobacco, and adderall.

As I pulled up and parked I checked in with myself to see how I was feeling. I was extremely nervous that I would stand out like a sore thumb. I have never been to a meeting before and I didn’t know if everyone had to speak or if there would be some sort of role call where everyone would need to introduce themselves and state they were an alcoholic and how long they had been sober. I was quite concerned that I would make some sort of social faux pas since I didn’t know the rules.

On November 16, I received the notice from U.S Equal Employment Opportunity Commission District Office, Phoenix.

I jumped out of my bed like a missile and looked out the window so fast that I almost hit my head in the window. I watched all the cars that was passing by. My uncle came to my room and asked me “what is happing here?” he looked at my calendar it was Saturday the day that my dad comes back. “Jonny, I have to talk to you” I looked at him and walked on my bed towers him. He sat on my bed and explained to me that my dad had lied to me that he’ll come back because that sound that I heard at night was your dad fighting with your mom for me, she herds that my dad was mad at me just for a slice of bread so my parents divorced. I looked at my uncle’s eyes, my heart almost stopped, tears slide down my face. I was in my room crying for my dad to come back for 2 hours. Nothing was the same without my dad. When I came back home from school, I cried “I’m here dad … oh” I was alone with my uncle. All the paintings that me and dad were on my wall, I used my step stole to take down the pictures and put it in a shoebox. I could not believe that he abandon me…by a

I started dating a boy my senior year of high school that was two years younger than me. He had been known to throw parties with his older sister and get drunk almost every weekend, but he was genuine and kind to me, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Throughout our entire relationship he gave up drinking because he knew that I did not approve. However, we got into a fight one night and he decided to go out with his friends to blow off some steam without telling me. That night, he got black out drunk and started drunk texting me about how horrible I was to try to restrict him from living his life and having fun with his friends. I broke up with him the next day because I could not see the relationship continuing on after such hateful words had been exchanged and the differing views we had on what was considered fun.

I too wrote about getting Ben enrolled into vocational school because having a job would be the best for his life. I like how you added on the idea of it creating responsibility and accountability. However I would like to ask why you didn't decide to put Ben through some sort of treatment or preventative program involving alcohol. While yes he may not have a trouble with alcohol, his crime is heavily involved with it and he very well could re-offend doing a similar crime. I feel that by him using his story to talk to people going through alcohol treatment he can make a big difference on their lives and might help prevent the crime with those individuals. As discussed by rehabs.com (2016), a strong peer support is crucial for the

Several drinks later the frustrations that had been coursing throughout my veins had ceased and were replaced with a sense of tranquility. The dispute between Audrina and me had been forcefully driven to the back of my conscience mind. I could vaguely hear the low hums from the granite countertop, but I was trying with every ounce of strength to remove the agitation from my ears. Audrina was fuming at the ears; she was in no mood to talk kindly to or about me at this point. I had never fully grasped her concept or hatred towards my drinking; I just knew she incandescently angered by it. Any chance she got the chance she would ramble with no end about the ‘negative repercussions’ that I would have to face. She would always go on about how my addiction had no benefactors for my body or my mind. She would always have this small crease that

I would like to start this paper out by saying many things will be left out in order to get this paper graded in a timely manner. Everything in this paper is told to the best of my ability to remember it however, I can not remember everything due to mind and mood altering substances and simple getting older and time passing.

My first memory was sitting in my dads old, gray pickup staring at the stars as he drove the highways back home. Tired from a day of stressful travel, when in previous hours I was on a leash led by my mom in the airport. My dad has always created a sanctuary everywhere he went, which was a vital skill growing up with a homeless father. My parents began their long unpleasant divorce when I was two, whereas my dad was gifted a restraining order entering the house. I didn’t see him for months until he was granted permission to pick me up from preschool with a bottle of chocolate milk in his warm hands. Their divorce created a hole in everyone’s lives that each of us tried to fill separately. Mom was never home, working three jobs, going to school full time, and filling that hole with cigarettes, beer, and boyfriends. My sister filled it with endless sleepovers and friends, while I had three friends that I never saw outside of school.

I felt a hand grab my shoulder, I jumped it startled me. It was my father, I wondered what he was doing here? He is an alcoholic, did he ever love my mother? Was he going to blame her death on his alcoholism? Who knows? “You will be living with me” is all I heard him say. Who would let him take me as his own child again? He broke my mom’s heart! He drinks all night and all day! He is a loser! How could someone do this to me? I have caused no wrong! I started to cry harder, my face bright red, snot starting to ooze out my nose, even though I do not love the man he took me in his arms and I felt safe once again.

I slammed the door shut behind me as I flopped on my bed. Mom and I had the biggest argument ever. I knew that dad had been cheating for awhile now. He begged me to tell her that it was a one time thing. The funny thing about all of this is that I actually believed him. It didn’t happen again for awhile and just when I thought things changed between us, he does it again. That was my last straw. I told mom and she tried to tell me that their marriage was fine and nothing could tear them apart. She told me, “Your father cheating on me isn’t the thing that is going to tear apart our marriage.” I didn’t know what she meant, but I had nothing else to say to her.

Devastated, I ran to my room gushing my eyes out. All these emotions going through my head of how my life would be without my parents in the same room or even house. From what I remember it all started about mid-June, the weeks before that were crucial. My parents would always argue over how to deal with a situation between me and my brother, Skyler. They hardly spoke to one another, but when they did they would just start bickering. I remember, one night after dinner they both went into ''their'' room with the door locked yelling at one another. Skyler and I didn’t know what to do, so we went downstairs and tried to figure out what was going to happen. With a scared tone I asked if mom and dad were going to get a divorce?" He answered back '' No, they love each other, they wouldn’t do that to us." That following night, was a school night everything was quiet except for my crying. I couldn’t sleep; all I was thinking about how it's going to affect my family.