I have such sorrow that we, your parents, failed you. When you were growing up, one of us was alcoholic and the other was trying to change that fact. Most of what we did, thought, and felt was influenced by the disease. We loved you and wanted you to have a happy childhood, but what was “wrong” with us made that impossible.

As the disease progressed, we made more efforts to keep our family life free of pain for you. We failed, but not because we didn’t care enough. We simply did not understand. We didn’t want any of what was happening to be true, so we lied to you and to ourselves. You grew up with a law of silence because we hoped if we didn’t talk about it, you wouldn’t know what was happening. But the terror continued, as did our hopes that no one would notice our problems.

I feel so sad that you grew up unable to trust easily, wary of people and situations. I know now that we could not give you what we ourselves did not possess: a feeling of safety. The preoccupation with the addiction drained our energies and left us unable to focus on you. Yet still we loved you deeply – I’m not sure you knew that.

You say you have a problem with feelings: having them, respecting them, showing them. Yes. Our family survived liked that. There seemed to be no options to numbness. At least, no options that we thought we could live with. But I remember loving you.

This is the part of your heritage, to our painful regret. But there is more to our history than that; there is our slow recovery as a family. Each of you has your own story. Jennifer James wrote: “Pain is a great teacher, but most of us would rather learn some other way. We think that happiness comes from a perfect childhood and avoiding mistakes. We don’t like that patched up feeling that comes with each survival. We would like to be seamless, with no patches.  Cherish your hard-won depth and understanding.  Some pain is required for the journey. Patches bring strength, whether on our knee or in our hearts.”

There are patches in my heart from our suffering, most particularly for yours, but I believe in our strength too.

Ashley Brilliant is right about yesterday. The past is fixed and we can’t forget it, or perhaps, forgive it. What we can do is accept it, and separate from it, until the grief loses its power over today.

My hope and joy are that, as we continue to make better days, they are turning into months and years. They will be the new past that will feel good to remember. Today will become a better yesterday.

This Comment was first published in Alcoholism & Addiction magazine in 1981, in a regular column called Family Forum. Stephanie Abbott, MA, specializes in family aspects of addiction, teaches at Marymount University in Arlington, VA, and is editor of the NETWORK.

This article was provided by NACAO, the National Association for Children of Alcoholics.  Visit their website at http://www.nacao.org.

People are not born knowing how to deal effectively with someone else’s addiction. A few instinctively avoid enabling and put an intervention in place early. The great majority bumble along repeating what doesn’t work, managing the best they can, and adding to the damage to their children in the process. This is the normal response to addiction in the family, but the normal response is not good for children.

Family members believe they can control someone else’s drinking.  That is why we hear of children sent to find their parent in bars, left at home with orders to watch the alcoholic, told to be quiet and well behaved so they won’t upset the drinker and make things worse, and other efforts that don’t work. If Al-Anon and family counseling relieve them of these false beliefs, nonaddicted parents are free to give their children the structure and attention they need.

The traumatic stress of living with an alcoholic leads to loss of selfcontrol.  This is why we hear of children who witness screaming fights between their parents, receive too much discipline one day and none the next, and live with disorder, confusion and lack of predictability.  Parents may know this is not good for their children but the sense of helplessness in the situation can be overwhelming. If Al-Anon and a parental support group is there for them, giving them tools that actually work, they can change their
reactions to the addiction.

There have been many books and pamphlets published in the last twenty years that give good direction to the puzzled spouse of an addict. In addition, there are books explaining alcoholism that can be read to young children, and others aimed at those who can read to themselves.  COA support groups are out there. When loyalty to past behavior is overcome, a productive and healthy response to alcoholism is possible and helps healing for the children.

Research has made it clear that the majority of spouses of alcoholics are not mentally ill, control freaks, or people who enjoy suffering. They are simply overwhelmed by someone else’s addiction.

When the parent is not given the education and tools, or what we might think of as “core competencies” for co-dependents, the next generation is left – at best – with a do-it-yourself approach to their own children.

This article was provided by NACOA, the National Association for Children of Alcoholics. Visit their website at http://www.nacoa.org.

This article was provided by NACOA, the National Association for Children of Alcoholics. Visit their website at http://www.nacoa.org.