Dear Alcoholic,

I am writing this letter to you to tell you how your life has impacted my life. Ever since I was little, I knew something was different about our family. My earliest memories always include you with a glass of wine in your hand. Now don’t get me wrong, I know it’s okay for adults to have some occasional drinks but, this was constant. I grew up thinking once someone becomes an adult, it’s okay for them to always be drinking and drunk. I always thought that you were the best role model there was and I wanted to grow up to be just like you. I looked up to you. As I grew older, I started to realize how wrong I was. I started to notice that I never saw my friend’s parents drinking. I slowly gained the knowledge that you weren’t normal. That there was something “wrong” about our family. I realized that there was a problem. You were severely depressed and buying and new box of wine what seemed like every other day. You were in deeper than ever. Then, there was a change. Someone new came into our broken home. He was almost a savior. For once in my life, you seemed happy. The drinking slowed, but never stopped. Even though he made you happy, the pain didn’t stop. You were so dependent on alcohol that he only made a small impact on your addiction. He noticed your problem too. He didn’t say anything for a very long time, in fear that he would lose you in doing so. Then one day, at dinner with our whole family, he proposed. Fast-forward a few months, you are married. This seemed to be the happiest part of your life so far. The following year was wonderful. You were no longer depressed—and I was no longer depressed. After that first year, you started to go back to the comfort of wine. This time, he said something. He helped you get medical help when nobody else had the courage to speak up. You got every test necessary to make sure you were okay. Our family got so lucky. Everything was fine. The medicine seemed to help for a while. The doctor said you could drink as long as it wasn’t wine, since that seemed to be the alcohol of choice. You were on so many medications—anti-depressants, Topamax oral, Vivitrol intramuscular; any medication that claimed to help, you got the prescription. You decided that since you didn’t feel the need to rely on alcohol anymore, you could stop taking your medication. Oh how wrong you were. The only reason why I knew you stopped was because my sister told me she found a large stash of full pill bottles under the seats in your car. Look forward to last week, we went to Walmart to get some groceries for the week. We got to the alcohol section. You took a look at all of the alcohol and pick out a gigantic bottle of spiced rum. I didn’t necessarily think anything of it because I am used to watching out for wine. You pick up a 2-liter bottle of Coca-Cola. Still, I didn’t think anything of it since I know that is a normal combination. We got home, you poured yourself a small glass of rum and coke. I went to bed.

Two days later, the bottle of rum was gone. Our whole family was on your back like crazy. You thought you could get away with it; we all noticed. You went back to the doctor, got new medicine, got new anti-depressants; then started the withdrawals. You are constantly yelling at everyone for everything now. Even today, you yelled at me for not telling you I was leaving the house to pick up a job application—even though you have been on me for weeks to get a job. It has gotten so bad that I just shut myself in my room in hopes that you won’t come in. All you do is yell. I don’t hang out with friends anymore. I get home from school, and I sleep. I don’t care about anything anymore. I don’t care about my appearance, friends, or my school work. I know I should care but I’ve learned to stop all feelings and emotions. So when you do yell at me, it doesn’t hurt as bad. I’ve become depressed. I watch you suffer every day and it pains me to see. You don’t even seem to notice how much I am hurting. Nobody does. Even though we are both struggling so much. No matter how bad it gets, I will still love you. I will still be here for you, because you are my mom and that’s just what I have to do.

Love,

a daughter who is hurt and cares.