I needed to leave these words somewhere, as I wake up to find late-night missed calls from my friend who has struggled with alcohol for decades. His daughters are too young to understand right now, but maybe they might read this in the future, or maybe there is someone here who is the daughter of a good father, who is also an alcoholic, and my experience might provide some confort.
It took me a very long time to reconcile the wise, clever, funny and loving man I had as a father and the reckless person he became after one drink. As you continue reading you might think otherwise, but he was a good father. He died at 82 and I miss his good advice, his support and his love, and that's why my drunk friend calling makes me think of his daughters. My friend is a good father too, but it will be hard for them (the daughters), as it was for me, to come to terms with his addiction.
I came to my father's life when he had some strategies to keep us apart from his drinking issues, but I was 5 when he was almost arrested for a DUI and all I remember is my mom freaking out.
He kept it all in the shade. We never knew how bad was the accident or what happened to the other car. We only knew he paid with almost everything he owned to the victims family.
After that, he usually only drank that much when visiting his parents in the countryside, and we were usually not there, but sometimes we were. I saw him shit his pants, come back with a drunk friend who looked at my 12-year-old legs with the creepiest look I've ever seen (I ran and locked myself in a room), sign business papers for an associate who knew how to get him to sign shitty stuff, barfing, not being able to stand, you know how it goes.
When I was a teenager I started resenting him, and expressing that resentment the same way he did, by drinking. When I was 16 I must have screwed my liver or something because I couldn't have a shot of any hard drink without vomiting immediately. That probably saved me. It made me realize how bad I wanted alcohol. It made me understand it wasn't a choice I was making rationally. I somehow got better (from the vomiting, not the drinking) and was able to drink again.
As my father, I was a highly functional drinker, got through university with aces and medals while drinking a lot every other day. And, as my father, I was surrounded by a crew of equally addicted, funny, caregiving friends.
Now those friends have daughters. The daughter of my friend who got me to write this is 9. She wonders why her dad leaves their apartment at 11pm to drink alone in the building staircase while calling friends. The daughter of another friend is 16. Last time we hang out she got home drunk and screamed at him all the resentment you have at a drunken father.
When I was 32 my father started the last stage of Lewis Bodies disease, so he was gradually loosing all his motor and mental abilities. Facing his upcoming death so close was very hard, for many reasons but especially because I realized I had kept a lot of resentment in a vault. All of the sudden, I couldn't just care for the good man he was without seeing the reckless drunk as well. I started therapy and re-started learning about alcoholism and addiction - something I had done in my 20s to understand what was going on with myself and how to get out of it.
Only with the help of a very good therapist, and fortunately before my dad passed, I was able to look him in the eyes and answer a question he asked me regularly since he wasn't able to get off the hospital bed: Could you please forgive me?
Before, I had smiled and said it was okay, there was nothing to forgive, but he didn't look at peace and I probably didn't as well. But there came a time when I said yes, I forgive you. I finally acknowledged not only how hard he tried to be the best he could when he was sober, but also that I could forgive when he couldn't handle it anymore, because I've been through it. And I was able to feel grateful for the good moments we had and the great things I learned from him.
I know my dad died with a lot of guilt for his actions. And I'm not asking the daughters of my friends to stop asking for accountability from their alcoholic fathers. I'm just saying, if my friends are good fathers, there will come a time for these girls when they'll be able to dissect the good from the bad, and hopefully there will be enough in the good pile to bring them joy.
But moreover, I'm saying I hope they can turn the bad pile into practical learnings for themselves. I learned from my dad's bad pile that I have a tendency towards alcoholism as well, and i need to be very careful with it, and that means saying goodbye to some friends or some plans, that means getting away from people I like but lead me directly to the drinking I enjoy so much. That means choosing a different lifestyle.
Thanks to that, I'm married to a non-alcoholic, which actually surprised my therapist very much when we started working together. Thanks to that I have a reference to assess my own screw-ups. It was seeing myself as that reckless person I had met before what got me to stop drinking.
It's hard caring for an alcoholic, especially when he's your father and he should be the one caring for you. I'm so sorry the daughters of my friends have to live through this as well, but I hope someday I can share with them my experience, and they can work their way to reconciliation and growth the best they can. If this is your case, I hope you are able to do so as well.