What Is It Like to Be the Child of an Alcoholic?

Photo by Bermix Studio on Unsplash

Shame has a funny way of making us feel like we are alone in our suffering.

Five years ago, you would have never heard me openly talk about having an alcoholic parent. The shame I felt compelled me to keep this part of my life quiet.

I believed that having a parent with a drinking problem was something I alone had to deal with. I feared that people would look at me differently, judge me and that my facade of a perfect life would shatter.

But the truth is, I do have an alcoholic parent.

This parent suffered in their childhood, enduring pain, fear, and loneliness. They grew into an adult who didn’t learn how to cope with their demons, demons they might not even recognise. Their suffering, lack of awareness, denial, unresolved trauma, and emotional dissociation led them to alcohol as a way to face the pain of everyday life.

Today, I understand that my parent isn’t a bad person at heart. They’re inflicting pain and suffering because they don’t know how to cope with the black cloud that has shadowed their life.

While I’ve worked hard to release resentment and anger, the impact of their addiction on my life remains.

The Weight of Shame in Irish Culture

Irish culture presents a peculiar contradiction. Alcohol is so widely accepted that having an alcoholic in the family feels almost normal.

Yet, we rarely talk about it openly. We often brush it under the rug, muttering phrases like, “Ah, sure, it’s grand,” or “They’re just a functioning alcoholic.” But let’s be clear: a life spent suffering, getting up, going to work, coming home to drink, creating chaos, and lacking connections is not functioning.

The stigma surrounding alcoholism still lingers. It seems shameful to admit we have someone in our family with a drinking problem. We hope that by ignoring it, everything will be okay.

But it won’t be okay.

Growing up with an alcoholic parent can be disastrous for childhood development. I know I was slowly heading down a very dangerous path of self-destruction before I became aware of it.

The Impact of Unpredictability

The unpredictability of living with an alcoholic parent is perhaps the most challenging aspect.

The environment can shift in an instant; you never know when the next explosion of anger will occur. You learn to tread carefully, reading the energy in the room to avoid provoking the beast within.

As a child, I became adept at sensing the slightest changes in my parents’ demeanour. The ever-present uncertainty wreaked havoc on my nervous system, keeping me in a constant state of fight or flight, even while I was asleep.

While this hyper-vigilance sharpened my instincts as I grew older, it also made me a reactive, angry teenager.

You couldn’t look at me sideways without me snapping back with, “What the f*** are you looking at?” I was like an angry little Jack Russell, always ready for a fight.

Confusion and Fear

With unpredictability comes confusion. As a child, I didn’t understand why my parent behaved the way they did. I assumed it was because they didn’t care about us or loved alcohol more than their family.

Fear was an ever-present companion. Those living with an angry drunk know how terrifying it can be for a child. During heated moments, you constantly wonder if something will happen to the other parent or even to yourself.

Despite my fear, I often found myself wanting to protect the other parent. This desire for protection fueled both my bravery and the rage I held inside.

Carrying years of hate for a parent who caused so much pain creates dark thoughts.

You find yourself grappling with thoughts you would never admit out loud, terrified that if you let your anger fully surface, you might act on those thoughts.

Many children in similar situations harbour these fears, but shame keeps them silent, making them feel isolated in their pain.

The Escape of Partying

As I grew older, I often directed my anger at teachers and peers, channelling my energy into drink, drugs, and weekend-long parties. My risk-taking behaviour, combined with partying, landed me in some pretty bad situations.

But deep down, I knew I wasn’t a bad person; my actions were not intentional.

Partying became my escape. For 48 hours straight, I could be fully present, free from worries about anything beyond the next party.

In those moments, I felt in control of my life. Unfortunately, this pursuit led to hurting others, and for a time, I wore my victimhood like a badge of honour. My mentality became, “I’ve been hurt, so I deserve to hurt others.”

The Wake-Up Call

Looking back, I barely recognise the person I used to be. It feels like I’m living two lives.

Even though I’ve distanced myself from the environment that caused me so much pain, it still haunts me in the form of nightmares and flashbacks.

Because I mentally dissociated from much of my childhood, my memories resurface in unexpected ways, affecting my relationships and behaviour.

I’m grateful that I eventually woke up to my actions and realised that continuing down that path would lead me to become like my parent, only that instead of being an alcoholic, I might have ended up a drug addict.

But not everyone wakes up.

How many young kids, teens, and young adults are misunderstood, going through what I did, and adopting the same damaging mentality? How many believe that because they have been hurt, they deserve to hurt others? Alcoholism doesn’t just impact the addict; it affects the entire family and future generations.

Finding Purpose in Pain

I’m still figuring out how to help my parent, who remains entrenched in their suffering. I’ve offered what I can, but I know I can make a real difference in the lives of future generations impacted by alcoholism.

I want to use my experience to show others that they are not alone and that they don’t need to be embarrassed about their parent’s behaviour.

They don’t have to follow in those footsteps. If I had known that my feelings as a child were normal and that countless others shared my experiences, I wouldn’t have felt so isolated.

Sharing my story and helping others find their way out of the darkness gives me purpose. It’s my number one goal.

If you relate to my experience or are seeking support, know that you are not alone.

Corey ❤️