How Alcoholism Affected Me

Do you ever get that feeling where you know something scary or bad is about to happen? That was an everyday feeling for my family.

“I promise I’ll come to your game,” “I don’t need it,” “I don’t have a problem, I’ll do better,” These are all common phrases I would hear when he would miss our soccer games, and dance recitals, and chorus concerts. For as long as I can remember, the foul-smelling poison was a part of my life. My family just couldn’t seem to get away from it. When I was young, my mother, who worked night shifts, would leave me with my dad overnight. On those nights he would leave me on the couch at my grandparent’s house. By the time I was 9 years old, I knew that smell better than I knew my name.

When I was around 6 years old, I got my first glance at the scary reality that my family had to endure. I remember hearing stories about my friends families and wondering why mine wasn’t as loving as theirs was. By the time I was 9, it really set in though. I began having to take over a lot of responsibilities that any normal child shouldn’t have had to. I had to do laundry, chores, babysit, cook, clean; you name it, I did it. I was taking on adult tasks before I even reached middle school.

Court dates and breathalyzer tests became a regular for our family. One Christmas, I even bought him a calendar so he could keep track of all the work he had to do and all the appointments he had to make. Over time, the alcohol problem got better and I no longer had to worry. Maybe, just maybe, I’d get to be a regular, carefree teen for a little bit. We began spending a lot more family time. We went to the movies, and parks, and concerts; you name it, we went to it. He even took me to see my very first professional soccer game.

Confusion. That was the first emotion I felt the night everything went wrong. It was the day after my birthday and my dad picked me and my siblings up for my birthday dinner because we hadn’t been able to see him in a while. I vividly remember his agitated state as he belligerently told us to get in the car. I grew suspicious as time went on. Looking back now, I feel so stupid for not realizing what was going on sooner. As we were driving down Central Avenue, he began to bellow about my older brother selling his xbox. Defending my brother was not the correct move in this moment… but I did it anyway.

“It was his xbox,” I said, “I think he should be able to do as he pleases with it.”

“The point is that it wasn’t his decision to make in the first place. You and your brother and sister play on that xbox. Why would he do that?” was all he yelled for 45 minutes straight.

At that moment, I got the first whiff of that musty smell. I was appalled at the fact that this was happening all over again. Within seconds, the car was going at a full 108 miles per hour and there

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