Child of an Addict

Addiction-

The fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity.

That's the technical definition, at least.

In all actuality, it's more like;

Addiction-

The fact or condition that destroys lives and ruins families.

If you've never experienced the Hell of addiction-whether in yourself or someone you love-you are one of few very lucky ones.

I have, unfortunately, had to bear witness to the roller coaster of addiction.

You see, it's not really the using that is the devastating part. It's all of the ripple effects that come from it.

First, one gets a hold of the drug of choice.

Everything is fine for a while, until it's not.

The drug really takes a hold on the person.

This is usually when the lying, stealing, and malice comes into play.

An addict doesn't see what they're doing.

All they are trying to do is get more drugs.

Even if it means lying about what they need money for.

Even if it means stealing from those they love to meet their needs.

Sometimes, they're willing to physically hurt someone to get what they need.

To me, the worst part of the addiction process are the withdrawals.

In my experience, this was the most painful part to witness.

If you don't understand or know that someone is struggling with the A word, you may only see it as anger, violence, and sickness.

I'm really telling you that this is the way I viewed it.

I was only a child when I first witnessed it. I had zero education on addiction.

My father was super happy one moment, then angry and violent the next.

As a "Daddy's Girl" it broke my heart.

I just thought he didn't love us anymore.

I didn't understand the demons he was fighting.

My father's addiction started with a back injury. He began taking the prescription pain killers as prescribed. After so long, he had to begin taking more to knock the pain.

Though he needed more to do the job, he wasn't prescribed more.

Thankfully, he never had to lie and steal to fuel his addiction. He had a great-paying job that easily covered the cost.

But paying for the fuel wasn't the issue; finding it was the issue.

It was scary because I never knew what I could say without repercussions. There was no way I could tell how he would react.

In the beginning, it was mostly yelling. The slightest thing would make him get loud and start yelling and cussing us.

This eventually grew to things being thrown or broken.

We were never hit for "no reason" but for reasons that most definitely didn't deserve physical punishment.

My older sister got the brunt of it in the beginning because she hadn't quite caught on that she had to walk on eggshells. She would "talk back" and she would instigate the rage.

I've always been overly protective of my sister. I always felt that I was physical tougher than she was. (Sorry, sis. But it's true.)

That's when I started paying attention to body language. I watched how he began moving when his blood started boiling. I watched a different look come over his face and a difference in his eyes when he was to his breaking point. That's when I would antagonize him to focus his rage on me instead of my sister. Little did I know, doing this merely allowed me to soak in his rage. I think this is what changed who I was as a person.

As my grandpa tells me, "You were always such an angel, thinking of everyone else. I don't know what made you evil."

I think that's a bit of a stretch.

I don't think I'm particularly evil, but full of anger and rage? Absolutely.

I began seeing things differently. I really took a look at the cruel side of life. I didn't see things as rainbows and butterflies anymore.

I can't tell you how many times I heard my father go into detail about how he was going to kill himself. Even times when he would hold a knife to his throat, threaten to drive the car off an embankment, and leave. And everyone wonders how I became so dark.

I began catching on to things.

I noticed that he'd miraculously get in a better mood after visiting my grandma or my aunt. I realized what was happening when I caught them handing him pills.

When I say that I was pissed at my grandma and aunt, that's an understatement.

I initially felt like they were enabling his addiction. I felt like it was their fault that he didn't stop taking the pills.

In my aging, I've come to realize that they were doing so to protect my mother, sister, and myself. They fueled his addiction to keep him from withdrawaling and taking his pain out on us.

They meant well, and it wasn't a choice easily made-but they did it for us.

I was terrified that I would wake up one day to find him dead. As sick as it is, I imagined it. I think at one point, I actually wanted him to die so he could be freed from it.

My sister found out she was pregnant, and it seemed to have gotten better from there.

He knew he couldn't be a grandparent behaving the way he was. He knew he had to make changes for this little innocent being that wasn't yet traumatized by the waves of addiction. This is when he began treatment and jumped on the road to sobriety.

I'm eternally grateful that this came to a happy ending, but I still deal with the effects to this day. Thirteen-ish years later, and I STILL have nightmares of his face when in a withdrawal induced rage. I still see the dark side of things instead of the light. I still fear that I'll lose my father to opiates again.

I understand addiction now that I'm older.

I understand that he didn't make the conscious decision to become an addict.

I understand that he was fighting demons of his own.

I understand that he never stopped loving us throughout his years of addiction.

I understand that he never truly meant to hurt us.

I understand that he likely hated himself.

I understand that we aren't to blame for addict's choices.

I understand that addict parents don't understand the life-long effects their children endure because of their choices.

But most of all,

I UNDERSTAND THAT ADDICTS CAN GET BETTER.

To any addict parents reading this, please get help.

Even if it's been years, please think about what you're doing to your children.

Sincerely,

The Child of an Addict.

SAMHSA’s National Helpline, 1-800-662-HELP (4357).