I Am An Adult Child Of An Alcoholic
I am an adult child of an alcoholic. ACOA.
I can’t run from that any longer. For most of my life, I brushed this aside… That was not part of my identity. My fathers fate would not be my own. My parents mistakes were just that — their mistakes.
Growing up, my father‘s alcoholism was our family secret. And it stayed something that we did not speak of until it became so chaotic we could not hide from it anymore. Yet still, it was on him. His fate was sealed, but the rest of us could pave our own course.
But the more I am reading about codependency, the more I am understanding that addiction is very much a family disease.
Addiction affects the entire family, and for children it alters the entire shape of their adolescence and persona. How they cope, how they value themselves, and relationships they have moving forward. I see this now as I look back on my own life and see with conviction the way in which my fathers addiction slowly morphed into my own. I never stood a chance.
Not to say all ACOAs are doomed to addiction. Not at all. But my path? The signs were clear. Showing OCD tendencies by age 7, self harm and later eating disorders, people pleasing and low self worth. I was my father’s daughter.
And I still am my father’s daughter. Now that I’ve finally stopped hiding from my feelings though binge eating or alcohol, I recognize the child in me crying out for help.
I’m an adult child of an alcoholic.
So was my father.
But I’m not doomed, I’m tender. My fate is not sealed, it’s just a little shaky.
But if I don’t get myself together… if I don’t work on this now… my children will have to do it. And they will spend the rest of their lives working to heal childhood wounds.
If I don’t get my life together, starting today, right now… my kids will be the ACOAs. And the cycle will continue.