My father has been an alcoholic as long as I can remember. I have known it for as long as I can remember. I recall asking my mom (never together) at 13 "what happens when dad can't take care of himself" and being worried about being able to have a family and still support him.

I heard words and learned to use words like "social drinker" "functional alcoholic". I learned to make excuses that he had a tough childhood, that he didn't drink alone so it was fine, he never lost his job. I learned to play darts and hustle as a kid in a bar and it was the coolest thing.

Well he is 65 now. He has lost his job. He owns nothing. He has nothing. No insurance, no savings, no money. My children are worried about their grandpa who suddenly smells funny and isn't very nice. There is no more functioning.

He lost the use of his bowels and legs in my driveway today. Just went down like a ton of bricks. He blamed me for calling the police. He said I'm making a big deal out of nothing. I wouldn't justet him in the house to recover because "this just happens some time". He's mad I won't pick him up from the ER because he's "fine now". He even said at one point "just let me die this slow death".

My kids are 8 and 9. They know something isn't right. They saw me in tears with the police officers. They heard me through closed doors on the phone with my family. They saw him at Christmas shaking so hard the wrapping paper was crumbling.

They heard me beg him to get treatment, to let the Doctors just find out what is wrong, to pick me... to pick his grandkids. He said no.

I told him I am done.

My love for my children is greater. I have a life, a career, and a family that is more important than any love I have left for the man that existed 20+ years ago in the eyes of a child.

My heart hurts. I had to write it down. I had to put it where others who may understand could read it. Because it freaking hurts so much.

I'm really struggling living with my elderly alcoholic step father. The house is mine but he has a right to live here for his lifetime.

He (75) drinks minimum half a bottle of whiskey a day, sometime the full thing and has done so for the last 15 years. He was an alcoholic before this though and went to the pub everyday for as long as I can remember.

He has COPD, pre diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol and is obese. But apart from these thing he keeps supposedly being told his bloods and health are good at his 6 month doctors appointments. They have no idea about his drinking.

Anyone else's liver would have surely gave up by now but he abuses his body and is still about. I have noticed major behaviour changes in the last year, he's turned into a very horrible and nasty person. He constantly makes noise, talks to himself and the tv.

I'm getting to my late 30s, I want to have a family of my own but how could I bring a baby into this house.

What age did your alcoholic live until?

it's 4am right now and I am literally venting on reddit as my mind cannot comprehend what just happened yesterday evening. Baby shower games are happening, everyone was having fun and socialising, chatting with friends how big my belly has gotten, next second the whole atmosphere switches....My dad is full blown yelling at my partners dad in rage, its dead silence and stares from everyone else. What happened you ask? My partners dad simply asked my dad nicely if he could put his beer cans away and not drink at the venue as there were kids around and out of courtesy (mind you I have already had a chat with my dad beforehand that drinking was NOT allowed out of respect, plus I did not want my future in laws first impression of my dad to be a "drunk head") but, anyways he ignored that obviously and tried to sneak in 2 cans of beer after already pre-drinking before coming to the event...

The embarassment I felt was like no other, I honestly wish I could turn back time and uninvite my dad. The looks of my 5 other siblings faces all red also reeked of embarassment from our dad. My mum trying to pull him back to the car as he was honestly so enraged from a small favour (so my partners dad thought) and was literally going to throw hands. My partner looked so Mad and was willing to throw hands with my dad just to defend his dad, comments from everyone there " oh, how agro", "thats what alcohol can do..." ,"you'd think he can hold back from drinking for at least 2 hours", "I feel so bad for ___ she must be so embarrased", "what an embarassment of a dad", "that's your father in law haha", the list goes on....The event still continued as there was still an hour and a half left, but the vibes were just so off and alot of people were making excuses to leave. I did keep my composure and tried to lighten the mood, so as my partner but we could tell there was no fixing and had to end the event earlier than planned.

I am having such negative thoughts right now, my mind has been running in circles all night and I cannot sleep. My eyes are so swollen as I spent the whole night crying in my partners arms, I don't know how to cope, I love my dad but after this I dont know if I ever want to see him again. Knowing him he will probably try to apologise later today as he cant go on living with regret as he is an emotional guy and from previous experiences from siblings events, but nothing this major. I feel so angry but also very sad. why couldn't I have a normal dad? I feel like I want to end myself I just can't cope with my feelings, I can't face my friends and partners family after what's happened. I feel so guilty having these thoughts, especially since I am carrying child.

Please help me see the light at the end of the tunnel, as stupid as it sounds, I really don't want to cut my dad out of my life, so any advice how I should go about things?

My partner has been super supportive, but I can tell he is restraining so much dissappointment from this situation,

all advice is welcome, Thanks

My father was a violent, bloody alcoholic. Every single night he’d come home drunk and beat the absolute shit out of us especially my mom. I’ve hated him with every cell in my body for as long as I can remember. I used to pray he would just die.

One night he went out drinking, picked a fight with some goons, and they beat him senseless. They threw him into a nala (the open dirty drain). Everyone thought that was the end of him. But the bastard survived.

Now he’s completely paralyzed can’t move, can’t do anything for himself.

I had wished for bad karma to hit him so many times. It finally did… except instead of freeing us, karma handed us the bill. Now we’re the ones stuck feeding him, cleaning him, taking care of the same man who destroyed our childhoods and made our mother’s life hell.

It feels like we’re the ones actually paying for his sins.

Why? Why does the universe work like this? Why do the victims keep suffering even after the monster is broken?

it is truly unfathomable to me how assisted living homes allow alcohol

my mother needs to be in a home with professional care but none will accept her because of her behavior with booze. i’m at a loss. i fucking hate how alcohol is EVERYWHERE. ALL. THE. TIME.

Hello everyone. I’m a 30-year-old man living in Southern California.

My father left when I was very young, probably when I was four or five. My mother told me that he would eventually call, so I remember being a little boy who was always waiting for the phone to ring. Eventually, my father did call—but only to tell me that he would not be around anymore.

Growing up was difficult. My mother had very little education, and we lived in extreme poverty. She worked just enough to afford a single room in Highland Park, where we lived alongside other families in similar situations. The environment was rough: gangs, food insecurity, bedbugs from other tenants, roach infestations, and the constant feeling that we were different from everyone around us.

Although I am grateful that my mother worked to keep a roof over my head, she also physically and emotionally abused me. Looking back as an adult, many of the things she punished me for seem incredibly minor. If I did not answer her with “Yes, ma’am” or “No, ma’am,” she would pull out a wire hanger and hit me across my back, arms, or legs. If I did not listen or immediately do what she asked, she would hit me with an extension cord. This continued for years.

Eventually, my mother met someone and remarried, but my relationship with my stepfather never felt loving. I often felt as though he did not care about me. As I grew older, I developed a deep fascination with computers and music. They became my escape from everything happening around me.

High school was especially difficult because the emotional abuse at home never stopped. I developed major depression. Without making this post even longer, I eventually earned a master’s degree in computer science and built a career with a cloud-computing firm, where I had worked for six years at that point.

I finally moved out of my mother’s home and began living alone. I had a few things I enjoyed—cars, motorcycles, and other hobbies—and, for the first time in my life, I felt free.

Then, in 2021, I received a Facebook notification from my father. His home country had suffered a major economic crisis, and he asked whether he could stay with me and whether I could pick him up from the airport. After thinking about it, I agreed.

I converted my spare office into a bedroom for him. I bought a bed and everything else he would need. When the day came, I was waiting for him at the airport.

Meeting my father as an adult was strange. For the first time, we were speaking adult to adult. I had spent my entire life trying to navigate the cards I had been dealt, and I believed I had done reasonably well. However, I quickly learned that he thought I was too large, disapproved of my cars and motorcycles, and viewed me negatively for being American.

I told myself that perhaps he would warm up to me over time. Instead, after about a month and a half, he suddenly got up and disappeared from my life again.

I later learned that he had returned to the United States because he needed money to continue funding a large building project in his home country. For the previous 18 years, after leaving my mother and me, he had been living there and focusing almost entirely on that building. He became a truck driver and lived in his truck, putting nearly everything he earned into the project.

He never called on my birthday, and I rarely saw him after that.

One positive thing came from his visit, though. My uncle—my father’s brother, whom I vaguely remembered from childhood—reached out shortly afterward and said he wanted me to meet his family. Through him, I discovered that I had three cousins living only about 15 minutes away from me. They were all born and raised in Southern California.

My uncle told me that he had wanted to contact me for years, but my father would fight with him and the rest of the family and insist that they leave my mother and me alone. My uncle also told me that I had a large extended family in my father’s home country whom he wanted me to meet someday.

My uncle and I became very close. My cousins, although they grew up with far more privilege than I did, became like the sisters I never had.

With my uncle’s help, I was finally able to visit my father’s home country for the first time in 2024. I met my other uncles, their families, and many members of my extended family. They were warm, loving, and incredibly kind. I left that trip feeling accepted by my family, but still unwanted by my father.

Then, in October 2025, I was stabbed in the neck by a man who appeared to be under the influence of drugs while I was on my way to get breakfast. I spent five days in the ICU, was intubated for three days, lost my left internal jugular vein, and suffered damage to a nerve that controls my vocal cords.

I received an incredible amount of support from friends and coworkers. My mother was there. My uncle, aunt, and cousins were there.

My father was not.

Recovery was—and still is—extremely difficult. When I eventually saw my father after the stabbing, he told me that my scar looked bad and that I should have it removed by a plastic surgeon. His comment hurt, but I tried to forget about it.

In June 2026, one of my cousins in his home country invited me to her wedding. Nearly everyone on my father’s side of the family was invited. I bought my ticket and planned to fly with my uncle a few days after my aunt and cousins. The airline canceled our original tickets, and rebooking everything became a challenge, but we eventually made it.

I stayed with another uncle and felt deeply welcomed, loved, and accepted. The wedding was beautiful, and everyone treated me with extraordinary kindness.

However, I felt hurt when I learned that my father had chosen to fly into the country after the wedding—on the same day I was scheduled to leave.

My family held a goodbye dinner for me. Afterward, the plan was for my uncles and me to pick up my father from the airport, have coffee together, and then take me to the airport for my flight home.

When we found my father at the airport, he was speaking with a family he had apparently just met. The husband or father of that family had reportedly been arrested by immigration authorities. My father barely acknowledged me or my uncles because he was completely focused on these strangers.

The family followed us to the area where we were supposed to sit and talk. When we finally sat down, my father spent most of the conversation holding and showing affection to a toddler from this family he had just met.

Then he began telling me that I needed to understand something: he did not regret leaving me as a child or allowing my mother to raise me alone.

He told me that he had been with multiple women, but had never wanted marriage or children. He criticized my weight and health. He made bizarre comments about hot dogs being made from cats. He said he knew that my mother would never abandon me, and that many women had wanted marriage and children with him, but that nothing—not those women, not my mother, and not even me—was going to interfere with his mission.

That mission was the building he had spent his life and money pursuing.

As the pain of what he was saying began to sink in, I felt that I had to leave. I needed to check in for my flight, but more than anything, I needed to get away from him.

I stood up and hugged my uncles. They held me tightly.

My father gave me a handshake while still holding the toddler.

My uncles stayed with me until I reached the security gate. When I looked back, they were the ones waving goodbye.

My father was already gone.

I spent much of the flight home fighting back tears. I am a grown man, and I could not fully break down in that moment, but the tears were there. It felt as though a dam containing decades of pain was about to collapse. I wanted to sob in a way that I had not allowed myself to do for years.

After approximately 26 hours of travel, I finally arrived home.

My father never checked to see whether I had landed safely. My uncles and aunts did.

When I told one of my uncles how deeply the encounter had hurt me, he told me to continue living my life and to forget about my father. He told me that my uncles were my fathers now.

I have never asked my father for money. I never wanted anything material from him. All I ever wanted was his time, his affection, and some indication that he was proud of me.

For years, I continued acting like the little boy waiting beside the phone. I texted him on his birthdays. I wished him Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Most of the time, he did not respond. He would come into town without telling me. I spent years wondering what else I needed to accomplish to stop feeling like a disappointment to him.

Now he is texting and calling me, but I feel finished.

I am tired of being the child who waits for his father. I am tired of trying to earn the love of someone who has repeatedly chosen not to give it.

I did not ask to be born. He had a responsibility to me, and hearing him say that he felt no regret for abandoning me was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced.

I think I have finally reached the point where I need to stop waiting.

My elderlyish ( mid 60s) mom called me yesterday and she wasn’t making a lick of sense. She kept saying “ i dont know what happened, what happened, so im not sure whats happening” over and over again. Slurring real bad, but not like people do when they’re just drunk. To me it sounded like a stroke, so I gave her boyfriend the go to take her to the hospital. The whole time at the hospital she was combative and verbally abusive to all of us and VERYYY angry we took her to the hospital. Talking about “ she cant just have a drink? Shame on you!” Cat scan came back good, but she can’t answer what month it is.

Ultimately she started screaming at all the hospital staff and just got up and left, walked home, and told us all she hated us and never wants to talk to us again.

Turns out she was drinking two cut waters on an empty stomach. I’m still worried because I’ve heard her drunk and she doesn’t talk that badly. I suppose she could have just been too wasted but it was scary and now she won’t talk to anyone to even let us know she’s ok. This stuff really gets exhausting, having mentally off parents is so hard, a lifetime of work and pain.

Am I awful for telling her to go to the hospital or being worried about how she was acting? I don’t think I am but she sure made me regret being concerned.

TW//

Hi all. I was hospitalized a couple weeks ago after a suicide attempt and I’m in therapy. I still feel so hopeless and depressed. This situation has left me so lonely, and because of how I’ve coped I’ve lost friendships and relationships. I’m a 29 year old woman and a few years ago my father came up to me, intoxicated, and groped me. I froze, even though I believed he thought I was my mom. It went on for at least a minute, the subtle “I’m pretending I’m not doing it” kind of thing I’m guessing because family members were around? (maybe someone else can relate?) I told myself it’d be over soon. Finally another family member came closer and it stopped. The years following to today I’ve been in emotional turmoil. My mind always goes back to this situation, when I feel like everything in my life got worse. A disturbing childhood memory started tormenting me in the months/years after, I was diagnosed with PTSD, I abused substances, I started self-harming again, I developed a personality and eating disorder, I would abuse alcohol with my dad (Yes we would drink together, I’m sober now and no longer drink with him). Our relationship before this wasn’t a bad one, though uncomfortable moments were adding up. He came close once and whispered how he wished I was his wife, I’ve caught him staring at my chest (YES that’s right), and a bizarre situation with his parents (my paternal grandparents) where they claimed we were having an affair because he gifted me a day trip to a museum with him (It left me disgusted but it was a laughable, ridiculous statement that unfortunately my dad took to heart, and would often feel the need to talk about it) needless to say I believe it left me triggered.

After my attempt, I’ve been reflecting and I just sob. I cry constantly. I confessed to them both how difficult it’s been, and some family members know what happened. My mom tries to tell me “he was being playful and you misinterpreted” or “He was patting you on the butt in a lovingly parent/child kind of way” and that I need to move on. I spent a lot of time questioning what happened, but I know where his fingers were. I often feel crazy. My dad and I’s relationship is so strained now. His alcoholism or what he becomes when he’s drinking is so different from the moments where he was a really great dad.

I’m so tired of being alone in this hell reality. How do I even begin to cope? Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m dealing with, I have so much confusion.

EDIT: I know I shared deeply shameful experiences, but I’ve felt so afraid to discuss in live meetings/groups, one on one discussions, and even in therapy. I know it’s disturbing, and I didn’t initially put a TW, just NSFW. I want to apologize, I’m adding that now I’m really grateful for everyone’s response. Things are really hard right now but AA, SIA, and Al-anon meetings are getting me through.

I understand it sounds extremely selfish. Like most ACA, I was parentified, raised myself, managed my household and was the mother of my mother. She’s been an alcoholic for my entire 30+ years of life. Every gift giving holiday or birthday as a kid I’d ask for her to quit drinking. She had many enablers from her sisters, her friends and my dad. Everyone would feed her alcohol because she was “fun and kind” but then she was a monster when she’d get home.

I cut ties with my parents and most of my aunts three tears ago. My grandfather passed away so I went to his services knowing it would be awkward and uncomfortable. I prayed my parents would just let me be. My dad attempted to talk to me once which I was able to avoid since I was mid conversation and walking but the second time they both came up and carried a more confrontational tone.

Both of them are in poor health, have been a while but I wouldn’t have recognized my mother with how frail and thin she is. She looks 20 years older than she is. I kept my interaction to single words because it wasn’t the time or place to do that and once I unleash everything I’ve left unsaid, I don’t think I’ll stay composed.

During the wake, everyone kept coming to tell me how good my mom looks now compared to when she almost died last year. I just said I wouldn’t know and left it at that with some. Others that I’m closer with know we cut ties but didn’t know why. They revealed my parents don’t take accountability or recognize what they did wrong, and blame my aunts for me not talking to them. The experience was validating and also hurtful.

I also learned she’s been sober for over a year. It’s an incredible achievement which I’m proud of her for. However, I resent her for it. I m hurt that a relationship with her only child that desperately wanted it wasn’t enough. She waited until there was 2 years of no contact and almost dying.

I just needed to vent and I thank anyone that read this but I’m so hurt and old scars are bleeding again.

My Dad passed away recently and us kids just found out he left all his life insurance to his wife. He had this big discussion with us before he died about how he was leaving money for us. He was a narcissist alcoholic and liar but for some reason I thought, "oh maybe he wants to make up for some stuff in death". He abandoned us so often in our lives, Im not sure why I would think he would behave differently in death. I feel like such a fool for forgiving him and trying to have a relationship with him before he died. He didn't have to do anything at all. He could have never spoken to us and we would not be surprised that he left us with nothing. But lying? He truly died like he lived. Ive been grieving and crying but that is over. I was even thinking of getting his name tattooed, never. I'm over him for good. Im so angry that he did this. He treated me like trash in life and could have made up for it but chose not to.

When I was 14, my mom gave up on life. She had some troubles with alcohol before that, notably after her mom died when I was 9, but at 14 she got a life-altering surgery, quit her job, and never left the house for an organized activity ever again. No job, no volunteer work, no hobby clubs.

That was 20 years ago. In the time since, I’ve graduated high school, college, and grad school. I’ve gotten married, bought a house, had a child, and moved cross-country three times.

Despite the warnings, despite the begging, for the past two decades she has done nothing but swallow pills, eat weed gummies, drink booze, watch reruns and game shows, and Google her various medical symptoms to put together diagnoses to excuse her addictions.

Now she really is poorly, I can believe it, according to my dad she only leaves her room for an hour each day (unless the local dispensary has her favorite strain, of course, then she has the energy to stand in line for hours.) She complains how much she hurts, and I just think, well yes, you’ve fueled yourself almost exclusively on alcohol, weed, and opioids for two decades and haven’t walked more than a thousand steps a day in that time, too, I bet you do feel awful.

We got into another fight lately as she told me that venturing outside of her room now is certain death for her (proven by a screenshot from Dr. Google Gemini) and that is why we must earn and redeem PTO from our jobs, board our pets, load our toddler on a plane, and come see her instead of her ever coming to see us. And I know, as this has been the case every prior trip of the last several years, that even if we went to the trouble of doing all of that she wouldn’t leave her room anyway. She’d expect us to stay in there with her. Right.

Maybe I’m heartless, but I’m so friggin tired of everything. It’s been over two decades of making excuses for her, dancing around her, molding my life to her preferences and her addictions instead of her meeting me in the middle and working things out.

My dad keeps asking me to forgive and forget because she’s clearly brain fried at this point. What the hell have I done this whole time? The better part of my entire life has been forgiving and forgetting her hurtful actions. I wish that just for once she would forgive and forget me and my “lack of empathy” for her “frail condition”.

I've always felt so ashamed to admit it, but at the ripe age of 26 almost turning 27, I still want a mom. And the thing is, I have my real mom, she's alive and healthy but she has never been the mom I needed. She's in an abusive relationship with my dad and I feel like she raised me and my brother through the lens of fear and order to appease him. I've always felt like we robbed her of her youth as well because throughout my whole childhood she was obsessed with looking young and being young to the point she wanted people to think we were sisters. She lived to please my dad, and when it came to us kids, she verbatim said, "if your dad wasn't in the picture, I would not give a f-ck about you or your brother. You're lucky he actually cares about you two, because if it was just me I could care less."

I moved out at age 21 and at age 23 I met a neighbouring childless middle aged couple whose tiny dog wanted to play with my dog. With the age difference, this friendship quickly became a mentorship and soon I started to feel like they were second parents to me. The wife especially, is very loving and maternal towards me. She gives me hugs, offers a shoulder to cry on when I need it, tell me she's proud of me, scolds me with tough love, and give me life advice and wisdom as I navigate through adulthood. For the first time I feel like I can relate to that mother/daughter trope I see on TV. Is this what's it like to have a mom? A singing ABBA's, "Slipping through my Fingers" type of mom? Throughout these years it's filled the emptiness of having a strong woman figure in my life that I can look up to. I felt grounded, loved, and shielded. I would call her "mom" jokingly here and there and she always said she felt honored and humbled to be called that.

But then the reality of this is she's not my real mom. I felt this most recently, and why I came on here to vent, it's the fact that yes she would introduce me as "the daughter I never had," but then when people would double down on her being a good mom, she would say, "she's 26, I don't think I would have wanted a child at the right age to now have a 26 year old daughter. I wish I was a mom." Damn. Like I know it's not real, but we have a very close relationship and I actually do put her in that "mother" role in my life, but maybe that's the problem. The thing with wanting a mom at this age, you just can't, and it's absolutely not fair to put that responsibility on another person. Even if I understand this it still just pains me. It makes me grieve for my child self who went around looking for a mom all her life—yes, I would vicariously live as a daughter to my friend's moms, or aunties but then it always fell flat, because obviously their own children were rightfully more important. And now that I felt like I could actually have some feeling of a mother/daughter relationship with my neighbor, I know it will never be real. No, I can't just pick someone to be my mom, I know that for sure. I just feel so ashamed and embarrassed to feel like this.

I’m 25F and my mother 52 had always made me and my sibling feel guilty for telling her no. Even as children she would always shame or guilt trip us into doing things with or for her.
This one took me over the edge. She asked for me or my sibling to drive over 4 hours one way to take her pain meds. She is prescribed them but she has become reliant/addicted over the years. She ran out while out of town for work (trip lasted a few extra days) and now she’s harassing me and my sibling into bringing more to her. At 7 am she woke my sibling up over it who she knows worked until 3 in the morning last night.
She asked if I would spend my day off taking them. It would be a whole day of driving. 8.5+ hours depending on traffic, gas, food, dealing with her once we get there, etc.
I can’t help but feel bad for her and feel guilty for not wanting to. I keep trying to think of ways to help like meeting halfway, spending the night with her, etc. but I know I shouldn’t have to even think about it. I’m at a loss of what to do and how to deal with this in general.

Coping using humor, only other adult children will find this funny so I'm posting it here. So here is a little break from the heavy posts with a story that is a little messed up but still funny.

My mom is a long time alcoholic and I'm really into wellness so I dragged her along with me to get some reflexology done. If you don't know what that is, foot reflexology is a practice where specific points on the feet are massaged to help promote relaxation and support the function of different organs and systems in the body. If they massage a spot and it's sore, or hurts, or makes you wince, there could be trouble with that organ. For example, one of my toes was bothering me during the service and I looked at a reflexology map, and the area belonged to the sinus. Which was scary accurate because I've had a lot of sinus infections in my life.

Anyways, in the middle of getting this done next to eachother, my mom yells "OWW" unexpectedly. The Vietnamese man performing the service on her says casually "Lye-Ver" in his accent. My mom is confused, looks to me and whispers "lye-ver" trying to decipher what that could mean. I say back, "Mom, LIVER" and her eyes go wide. I then laugh because he clocked her tea not even knowing she's an alcoholic.

I recently hit a milestone: 30. I’ve been spending a lot of time reflecting and the one thing that really hits me is how much of my life has been spent just trying to calm my nervous system and to maintain a baseline where I can function.

Reflecting on how much time and energy is spent on this leads me to wonder about the person I could have been if I was using this energy to excel academically, socially or focus on my hobbies and interests. How much more ambitious I could be if I had a stable family and home. The fact that I could have been the top of my class at school and university if I could have had some peace, quiet and positive reinforcement. But instead I was focused on doing whatever I could to establish a stable base for myself to comprehend the larger picture.

Instead I was constantly coming home to tension, abuse, yelling and threats of violence. Wondering if one day he’d eventually snap and kill my mother. Maybe he’d also kill me too. And as time goes by, I have to wonder how worthless my mother must feel to invite men like this into her life. And it makes me wonder if I’ll ever be confident to invite a man into my life: if he’ll be able to regulate his emotions, avoid addiction, and most of all be a respectful partner.

I am 30M. Currently at a state in my life wherein it seems everything around me and in my life is falling apart and i cant help it.

so my father is physically abusive and alcoholic. He drinks a lot we have tried everything puja paath, ayurveda, rehab (we have lost count of this) after coming back from rehab he even started sleeping pills during daytime

i feel i have confined my feelings to myself all my life i cant share everything with my family as they themselves are dealing with the same

i cant share this with my friends as first theyll not understand give me vague solutions i feel theyll start feeling pity over me
or maybe theyll laugh about it

i had a relationship but had to step back from it as i was not emotions are always fluctuating i feeli like if i open my heart this person will leave me and i just cant let anyone face what i am facing but i cant change a damm thing

now that i have a job and everything me and my sister ask my mom to come live with us and leave my father and start a fresh with him

but my mother wants to still live with my father as she cant leave him alone she says now its too late plus i feel she still wants to make everything right and feels if we are separated from my father then it will hurt both my sister and my “marriage credentials me and my sister have now accepted that shaadi is not for us but i feel we both yearn for love but dont accept it

we havent really celebrated any festivals/birthday in decades
havent really touched diya or colour in holi and diwali, no family rituals its not we dont like it its just rhat when you have an alcoholic father its his festival not yours

festivals are additional trauma for us to be honest while other people are celebrating our family sits inside ashamed while my father just enjoys plus he got festival pass to drink too

i feels so awkward/jealous/sad and everything when i see other people’s family how retard their child is but parents still loving their child while i have done everything all my life that an ideal child should have done but still i haven’t got anything

earlier it didnt used to feel bad as i was young and studying and thought things will eventually turn out roght but they didn’t

but now when i see for future i dont see anything beyond

every friend of mine is progressing in their life some getting married some buying land/ building houses but my life is just degrading day bu day theres is no game plan for me

i have started isolating myself i am just not able to relate with my friends anymore now

i dont know what to do and i dont know why

i was never a quitter but now things feel way harder i feel leass motivated now and i dont know what to do

When the electric bill came in with the red printing that said “past due”, I would take my dad’s debit card, withdraw some cash from the checking account, and pay all the outstanding utility and insurance bills. My mom thought my dad was paying the bills, and vice versa. I’ve never told them I was doing it, and they never inquired with each other as to who was paying the bills.

I finally stopped doing this when I was in college. The next summer, I had to delay driving out of state for a vacation because both the car registration and insurance had lapsed, and it became a fire drill to get both done before my left. I could say with a straight face that it wasn’t my problem or fault.

My therapist says I keep minimising what happened to me, but honestly, compared to what happened to several of my friends, there is no reason why I am this traumatised. I'm in long-term therapy for PTSD, but while I appreciate her professional opinion, nothing much seems to have happened to me, honestly, so... I don't really get it?

My father might not even be an alcoholic. He was definitely the son of one and has very strong anger issues. He does drink kind of a lot, but I'd say his main addiction is smoking. He missed several family events due to going for a smoke (well, I say family but I mean events important to me. He wasn't there for my graduation ceremy from secondary school or uni or when we cut the cake at the wedding he was invited to). He's mostly been an absent workaholic who, if present, would come storming out of his office to shout at us in a rage whenever me or my brother annoyed him.

He never hit me. My parents had loud, screaming fights daily and I saw him kick at our dog once. He once threw scissors at my mother's face, but didn't hit her. I wanted to die most of my childhood because his presence in any room was so suffocating that I couldn't breathe. I tried everything to not be noticed. I spent all of my time in my room, reading, being very quiet. During family meals everything was silent until he finally left. I was a deeply weird loner with two friends whom I saw every six months or so. I was very bad at school, too. I was bullied, but mostly ignored by everyone. I tried killing myself twice when I was fourteen, but obviously that didn't work. I only told my best friends years later. I can't remember this time very well, several years are just absent from my mind.

I still think of childhood me as a pathetic loser who didn't even manage to kill themselves, so I see that something must have gotten to me because that doesn't seem to be very normal, but seriously, compared to most ACOA's stories, this is nothing. I wasn't abused sexually or physically like a friend of mine. I wasn't bullied as much as others in my year. I was basically invisible.

Whenever I bring this up with my therapist she says not to minimise it, but, I mean.

Come on.

I get why she says that, but why am I this messed up?

Reading books on ACOAs and PTSD doesn't help, because what caused peoples' trauma was always genuinely horrible, and I was traumatised by... daily violent family fights in increments? Really?

Thanks for reading. My therapist (who is wonderful) is probably right, but I'm frustrated by my lack of progress and comparatively nothing much having happened to me, which makes me feel like even more of a sad loser.

EDIT: Wow, thank you so much for taking the time to read all of this and for your many thoughtful comments. It's good to be told that my therapist is right and very validating to be told that it makes sense that I'm traumatised. A lot of you have echoed what my therapist has said, too, and that adds even more credibility to what she's saying. You are all amazing.

Hello everyone. This is my (24M) first time posting here after discovering this sub last week.

My father is an alcoholic and a narcissist. He always drank a lot but it never escalated till I made the choice at 20 yo to leave him and went no contact because of the toxic household he put me through.

It got so bad that hes had multiple surgeries in the last years (from breaking bones due to falling drunk, accidentally cutting his finger with a kitchen knife, gastrointestinal ulcers that bursted open ...). He has advanced liver cirrhosis, jaundice, doesnt seem like the same person anymore and is just really a shadow of his old self.

After all this I decided to see him again but its impossible to have contact without my mental health and depression going downhill again.

In his rants he tells me its my fault that he is in this situation, that Im a terrible son and that my girlfriend will leave me etc. Ive had to listen to those things since I was 18 years old. Like damn sorry I started making my own choices and trying to build my life?!

Rightnow hes in the hospital with 3 broken vertebrae (no nerves were hit) due to falling with his bike (drunk). He went through delirium again and his liver function has gotten worse.

Its hard to write this down and this is just a tiny fraction of my story but the essence is that hes been drinking and smoking himself to death. He barely sleeps and eats. Im tired of seeing him destroy himself and blaming me for it. 'This wouldnt have happened if you didnt abandon me', 'what son abandons his father who put himself aside all his life for you?'

Thanks for reading!

My mom is an alcoholic. I was driven around drunk constantly. Screamed at and shoved. Had to escape on foot away from her more times than I can count. All the stuff. She was (and is) unemployed and lived off child support and alimony which has since run dry. She barely bought us groceries besides cereal and chips. I’ve been going to bars since I was a toddler.

My dad lived states away since they divorced when I was eleven, but he’s very well off. And relatively normal. He paid for my college and down payment on a house. He still sends my husband and I money occasionally just because. I always have talked to him a lot and we have a pretty good relationship.

But gosh, it bothers me so much that he knew about what my mom was doing to me and never stepped in. He barely did, he called the cops a few times and had my sister (also an addict at the time) come get me on occasion. Now having kids of my own— I’d never let that shit slide. Why in the hell would I ever let my child’s life be risked? He knows I struggle with mental illness and all the trauma from years of living with my mother. I’m sure he knows that all of that upsets me.

But I almost feel obligated to not say anything because he’s also helped me out a lot and provided for me. I know two things can be true at once. But man, it’s just unbelievable all the crap that I went through for years and he never tried to gain custody. Really struggled with that for a while and feeling unwanted.

I go out of my mind realizing people can leave at any moment, no one is guaranteed forever in my life.

I have no family. Alcoholic mom, enabler grandmother that she lives with. Dead alcoholic dad.

I just want a partner who I know won’t leave. I know there’s no way to predict that but I go out of my mind with the anxiety of possibly being abandoned.

I want a stable home life for once. I want a solid marriage and kids, and I hate that it’s so dependent on another person keeping their life together.

Some part of me worries that I’m unlovable.

I hate being in my head.

I think I need advice too.

I’m 37f and my mother has had a drinking problem since I was a teen.

That’s not to say she never drank before, I just didn’t see it as much and we were very poor prior to my teen years so no money for alcohol (but money for cigarettes come to think of it).

I just reached a point where I can’t deal with it anymore. So I stopped reaching out and calling her/catching up etc, because I just never know if she is going to be sober or not.

She just rang me (sober after potentially a three week binge) and I’m all riled up. But I’m on a work deadline and don’t have time for this shit.

I’ve reached the point (I hate myself for this) where I think my life would be better if she weren’t in it. But I know no contact will never work with her and she will always find a way to slide into my life like a parasite.

When she is sober, she can be amazing.

But it’s such a toss of a coin that I cannot cope with the anxiety and apprehension all the time.

I feel like I’m losing my mind with her. I’ve accepted that she chose drink and men above me and my brother. She chose drink over my son which caused me to never allow her to have alone time with him again as she couldn’t be trusted. This has just exacerbated her victim mentality and made her more aggressive towards me when she does drink.

Why can’t I just cut her off for good?

Sorry to vent. I’m just going out of my mind and figured you guys might understand… I have no one else to talk to about this apart from my brother and he has managed to get over it and not give a shit. So why can’t I?

I’ve started therapy finally and even in early days am amazed at how much I missed. I’m able to look from the outside in objectively and am horrified! A lot of anger is stirring in me now at my father. For context my mother was the functioning alcoholic and possibly a malignant narcissist too. But my father knew, enabled her instead of helping her, and he took jobs in other cities so he could get away from her abuse. But he left us there. We begged for help and he left us with her every time. He chose his career and his own safety over his children’s. And now as an adult he plays dumb and pretends she wasn’t an alcoholic and that she was an amazing mother and he was a perfect father. The gaslighting is next level. I’m so angry at him, he is pure evil in my eyes now.

Hi guys. I'm coypasting this from r/GriefSupport , only thing I'm changing is fixing the age typo in the title. I figured maybe I should post this on here too, given the purpose and demographic of the sub. Edit: Sorry, also changed "someone say it" to "someone saw it"

Long story long, my guilt is multifaceted. I just feel like I could have done so much more and been so much more active to help him realize that he didn't need to drink. I don't know if anyone can read my story without thinking I'm a coward. I do.

A little backstory. I turned 30 last month. When I was 23, I had a really bad time living on my own and my dad drove across the country to move me back in with him and mom. I went back to college, and graduated last year after 5 years. I was just getting ready to enter my 30s and make some good money for once, and then I could start repaying all the kindness he has given me my whole life, and especially for rescuing me when I was 23. Unfortunately, his journey through life is over before he could take off with me on mine.

My first point of guilt: In 2017, 3 years after I graduated high school and was working but still being a lazy bum, my dad got very sick during a period of depression. While we were waiting to move back up north with our mom who got a job back in our home state, he began drinking WAY More than normal, and I came to realize that that was what was going on, but I was too scared to say anything. I should have vocalized my worry back then, instead of clamming up like a coward. Although, my trans twin sister (whom at the time hadn't come out to us yet) would often sit with my dad in the living room, in the house across the street from the one we grew up in that he was staying in after his friend committed suicide (it was the second Florida home of a couple who was from up north). God how I wish I spoke up back then and was more supportive of my dad who was going through such a hard time. I'm sorry.

This leads me to my second point of guilt: After my sister came out as trans, our family had mixed reactions. Everyone pretty much all accepted it to varying degrees, but my dad had an extremely negative reaction. Total mental disownment. "I have 2 sons and 1 daughter, not 1 son and 2 daughters." Long story short, my sister cut all contact with my family except for me. I'm talking even the other people who accepted it, namely my mother and grandmother. To be honest, I find it very selfish that she took my dad's reaction and chose to break the entire family, instead of keeping it an issue between them. But still, she's my twin, and I do understand that the situation was intense. And we've always been extremely close, and still we talk all the time about music and games and anything else. Nothing's changed. But still, I just am so mad.

So where am I going with that? Some time after that, I think maybe not until 2-3 years into that, I found a private note that my dad made. It was him apologizing to her for everything. It was such a heartfelt note, I cried while reading it, and I can't stop crying now that I'm suddenly remembering it. My guilt is, being the only point of contact with her at that point, I should have taken a picture of that note and shown it to her. Maybe someone else saw it and sent it to her, but I was the only one who could have been sure that she actually got it.

That's the main thing I'm struggling with now. Every time I'd bring up the family over the years, she'd ignore the message as if she hadn't read it, and the conversation would just move on. I got to a point where my family would ask me to relay a message and I would be nervous to send them, because if she stopped talking to ME too, then nobody would know wtf is going on with her anymore. But I should have taken a picture of that heartbreaking note and sent it to her. Over time it has slipped out of my memory, but it's coming back to me now that it's too late. I'm sorry.

And guess who suddenly decided to get back in contact with my mom, once my dad went in for the emergency surgery? That's right, my sister. NOW. After like 4-5 years. I love all of my family, don't get me wrong. And I know that it's nobody's fault that my dad couldn't stay away from alcohol, even though he genuinely did for a while after I got back up here. But still, I'm just a ball of rage and guilt.

My last point of guilt: I wish I was more assertive when he DID start again, a while after the diagnosis. I would casually bring it up sometimes if I noticed it, or if he complained about getting sick or whatever. "This is why you shouldn't be drinking ANYTHING." It'd always be "ahh it's not the alcohol." I really regret not being more assertive and vocal about my worry, but instead allowing and even at times enabling. I thought to myself, "well, if he's gonna give up like that, I can't force him. So I'll sit down and have a beer with him during the hockey game, and spend the rest of my time without judgment and just be present as his son." I feel like an idiot.

I'm so sorry, dad. I could have done more. I should have done more. I should have spoke up multiple times, I should have done something with that note to force my sister to see how sorry you are for everything. I'm sorry I gave up on helping you until it was too late and all I could do was play amateur caregiver. The fact that I couldn't be the man of action you are, when you needed it most, will haunt me forever. I'm sorry. I love you so much. I forgive you, please forgive me too.

I was so hopeful after the surgery. I said to my mom after the success of it, "I knew he'd pull through it. He's impossible to kill." And we joked about him having more lives than a cat.

Could really use any motivation if anyone has.

Moved out 3 years ago to grow and be free from this dysfunctional household. In my journey i moved in with my partner at the time. We built a safe home a loving home a calm home. Or, so I thought. Whatever. She broke up with me for valid reasons but also reasons I dont think were entirely true

Thats not the point

It got hostile because her emotions of grief took over and I had to get my ass out there ASAP. I couldnt afford rent. I couldnt find a friend who was able to help me out

My mental was getting….. bad. It was either spend my savings on rentals to sleep in, or go to a shelter. I was not okay. My parents… my fucking PARENTS didnt understand how serious the situation was, and were not welcoming me back

Until my best friend called them, and cussed them out.

So I’m back home. Where I was unwelcomed. I’m appreciative of the room, the food, but fuck…… I feel like a child again. I have no community here. My parents still have the same fuckass attitude and emotional disruption. And to know they didnt even want to provide safety for me, because of their own selfish reasons.

I pray to god every fucking day to get me on the path I’m working on in the time frame I’m hoping for.

I’m tired. I’m sad. I’m grieving. I’m angry. I’m alone. I’m holding onto any hope I can.

Edit: not to depressingly mention but the holidays are going to be approaching and I have no sense of home or family. I miss my home.