Personal Narrative-Hate Is A Strong Word

A staggering 30% of U.S. adults have been or currently are alcoholics, and not all of them have abstained from parenthood. The essay “Under the Influence” by Russel Sanders tells the tale of a young boy who had an alcoholic father, who he could not understand why he was an alcoholic, except for the belief that he was possessed by demons. He didn’t live around any treatment centers that could help his father, for he lived in the backwoods of Ohio. He talked about the constant fear of his father beating him (which he never did), and the constant fear of his father leaving him (which he did for small increments of time). The trauma of having a father who was an alcoholic father stayed with Sanders well into adulthood.

He would come home wasted after weeks of not being home; of me wondering where my father had been all those weeks. Staying up late on school nights just wishing for him to come home and tuck me in bed, to tell me he loved me, to ask me how my day was, or just tell me that he was there to stay. As a first grader it is hard to explain to your friends why they can not come to your house to play just knowing that if he is there that he will be drunk yelling at my mom for nothing. It got to the point to where he would come home after a few days and grab a suitcase and leave to go with his new girlfriend for a few days or even weeks. Right before he would leave I would always have hope that he would tell me where he was going or take me with him. I just wanted a father. My mother always told me that he would be back and to have hope; to always trust in her and that she would always be there for me. She was always my rock when I was younger. Until one day she finally told me what a monster the man I called my dad was. He was an abuser, physically and mentally. She told me the truth about the man that I wished was in my life for so long. He never wanted me. I was the youngest out

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

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

It was the afternoon of my 7th birthday when it happened. We were out at our favorite park in Brooklyn, the weather was nice, and everything seemed fine, except for one thing; my father wasn’t sober. It was the first time my father had ever brought a bottle with him on one of our birthdays. I never found out what caused him to find the need to take a swig, but ever since breakfast that morning, the smell of alcohol had gotten stronger on his breath. My mother complained about it, and one thing led to another and he slapped her in the face. But instead of yelling or crying, my mother turned to Maggie and me, said she was sorry one final time, and jumped off the beautiful park bridge, falling into the rock filled river below. In that moment, I realized at once why she had kept apologizing to us; she knew that if she was ever going to escape my father’s torture, she was going to have to leave

One in five adults can identify with growing up with an alcoholic relative and Twenty-eight million Americans have one parent abusing or dependent on alcoholic (Walker, & Lee, 1998). There are devastating and ubiquitous effects of alcoholism, which vary from psychological, social, or biological problems for families. Counselor’s treating this problem all agree that the relationships within a family, especially between a parent and a child is one of the most influential within a system, but what are the effects on the family when a parent is an alcoholic? Contemporary research has found there is a higher prevalence of problems in the family when alcohol is the organizing principle. In addition, there is copious research on the roles

     In the United States, twenty million children are experiencing physical, verbal and emotional abuse from parents who are addicted to alcohol. Growing up in an alcoholic house can leave emotional scars that may last a lifetime. This is tragic because we consider that childhood is the foundation on which our entire lives are fabricated. When a child’s efforts to bond with an addicted parent are handicapped, the result is confusion and intense anxiety. In order to survive in a home deficient, of healthy parental love, limits, and consistency, they must develop “survival skills” or defense mechanisms very early in life.

Living with an alcoholic is not something you can describe. It is something that affected my life every day. I was put in a situation that I ultimately had no control over. I spent a lot of my time focusing on trying to fix my mom. It took me almost four years of growing to realize that I cannot fix someone else. My mom did not want to change and it is not my responsibility to change

I have learned that alcohol addiction can stem from other issues in one’s life. I realize how alcohol addiction can exacerbate especially when dealing with other mental illnesses, trauma, having a history of family members with this disorder, and other life stressors. For example, Susan has been through a lot of trauma such as physical abuse, sexual abuse, and her miscarriages which explains why she often resorted to drinking. I realize that people often resort to alcohol as a way to get away from problems and decrease their emotional distress. Furthermore, I have recognized that one’s environment as well as familial issues can also greatly influence the addiction. Alcohol seemed to become a normal thing for Susan since the age of 10, and having parents struggle with the same addiction seemed to influence her drinking

Alcoholism is a demon, a disease, something reached for out of desperation. It helps with a person 's problem by deadening their senses, and increasing his problems at the same time by destroying his character. When you drink, you don 't have to think about all your problems, you can just let the alcohol wash them away from your mind. But it can never take away all your problems—they still remain, just your sense to care for them is gone. Alcoholism has a great chance to pass on to later generations, but sometimes growing up in an alcoholic family will make the children swear off the drink because they have seen what it can turn people into. It turns them into the basic raw human emotion of grief. They are miserable for alcohol is the only thing that can make them feel normal after awhile, their entire bodies ache for it. Even when they have given up drinking, their bodies can revert back after having just one drop again. Yes, alcoholism is truly a terrifying disease of the mind and body—not just to the addict, but also to the loved ones

In the United States alone, there are 28 million children of alcoholics - seven million of these children are under the age of eighteen.   Every day, these children experience the horrors of living with an alcoholic parent. 40%-50% of children of alcoholics grow up and become alcoholics themselves. Others develop eating disorders or become workaholics. Children of alcoholics receive mixed messages, inconsistency, upredictability, betrayal, and sometimes physical and sexual abuse from their parents. They are made to grow up too fast because they must help keep the family structure together by doing housework and taking care of siblings since the alcoholic is not doing his or her part. Children form roles that

At a glance this snapshot of a single moment, one so seemingly familiar to any common Father-Daughter interaction, presents no questionability. Yet, it is the story that follows what is occurring within the photo that matters most; it is the story of my Father, and the claim alcoholism took on his life, and how it has forever changed the way in which I view the above photograph as well as all that follow it. And though each case of alcoholism and the detrimental effects associated alongside it are unique, I will work to show the common occurrences and habits through the eyes of my own experiences. Through the use of following photos I hope to explain the disease as a whole, and the significant impact it can present to those who come in contact

I hate the way you break every promise. I hate the way you continue to bail. I hate the way I can't bear the sight of you, when we fight like hell. I hate the way you drink and smoke. I hate the way I care.

Alcoholism took too many lives in my family. No one wakes up one day and decides to be an alcoholic—it takes time like any other thing I guess. It starts with having a beer with buddies and progressively falls into copping with heartache by pouring another glass alone in an empty room. That’s what happened to my Uncle Rhett. At 17, life was nothing but an adventure for him. He was graduating next month and would be off to college by the end of the summer. He would party with friends and crack open another cold one every Friday and Saturday night down on the Island. Life was everything but tragic.

I grew up in a household where both parents were alcoholics and drug abusers that did not pay much attention to my brother and I. They were both in and out of jail and treatment. They were more worried about the next longneck bottle of beer then their helpless and confused children. It was a bad situation for a couple little kids. You may wonder how it felt to be in this my situation. Well at ages three through five years old there is not much I should remember but sadly it left a big enough impact on my life that I can still smell the hard liquor on my mom’s breath, and hear her slurring her words and her breathing heavily. I can still remember how the house always seemed dark and unhappy. Late at night, I would wonder if when I woke up, if my mom would still be there to hug me one last time. Being in a situation where my biological parents always fought and threw anything within reach at each other.