Most kids I hung out with at school had pretty normal lives. They sat round the dinner table, mused over the day they had, love, cuddles and that whole family atmosphere. Camping trips, holidays, games and fun, adventures. Sometimes I joined in the fun but there was always a part of me that felt like I didn’t belong there. That I wasn’t allowed to just enjoy being a kid.

I had to grow up pretty fast. I had no idea what was normal as far as family life went. And the looks on some people’s faces when I did share a little about my home life tended to make me shut up pretty fast. I spent most of my childhood trying desperately to go unnoticed, under the radar, because it was much safer to be invisible, than face the man I called Dad. He came into my life when I was two. I don’t know my real father. He made sure that the small keepsakes mum did keep for me when I got older and wanted to know, vanished. Burnt. He also reminded me on a daily basis that I wasn’t his by showering the other two siblings with love and attention and ignoring me.

It was okay for a few years, but as I got older it got worse. I was never good enough. Nothing I did was ever right, I was constantly told I was stupid, useless, fat, ugly, lazy. As a kid those words etched themselves inside. He used to continually berate me, kick my ass with steelcap boots so hard my tailbone ached and I couldn’t sit down. Mum would yell at him for hurting me, most of the time he made sure she wasn’t around when he started at me. The rest of my family never said anything but I could see the look in their eyes, they knew but they didn’t want to know.

My dear Nana was the one constant, the one rock in my life that was always there, she would take me away and the happiest times in my childhood were the holidays at her house. She knew what he was doing and she was angry at mum for allowing it to happen. Sadly she took her anger out on my siblings and treated them differently because they were *his* children. I felt like all these problems were because of me as a child. No child should have to feel like that. I felt like I was the problem and that if I went away maybe things would be okay. The people pleaser, always trying to keep the peace.

Over the years he subjected me to verbal assaults, humiliation and psychological abuse. Thankfully never sexual. I was an unruly shit by the time I got to college. I wagged school alot and still managed to get high grades,(fuck knows how lol), I ran away or disappeared for 2 week stints and became a ghost at home, locked away in my room. We never knew if we were going to have xmas because sometimes at the last minute he would decide there was going to be no xmas. He belittled me infront of his friends. I never bought friends home in fear of being humiliated in front of them or them seeing the shit I had to put up with and never wanting to visit again. I started drinking and the drugs and I self sabotaged alot. I had a nervous breakdown at the age of 17 and tried to commit suicide.

I was so broken down inside I had no idea who the fuck I was anymore. But underneath all the angst I knew that I had spirit and a fire and I simply refused to bow to his crap anymore, I woke up one day and thought fuck this, I’m outta here. I sat them down and I told them what they had put me through, how much it hurt and how badly I was fighting hating them both. They cried. I sat there still and cold. I left the next day.

I then spent the next ten years of my life trying to find the person I once was, that happy kid that just wanted to smile again. Because of the emotional abuse I suffered I had difficulties socially and with relationships, sometimes I still do. I find it very difficult to trust someone fully. It’s not them it’s the fear of being hurt I suppose. I haven’t quite figured that out. I am well aware that his abuse and his drinking have moulded me into the person I am but one thing he didn’t expect was that I came out on top. He didn’t break me, just about but not quite. He made me determined not to follow in his footsteps. Even now I react badly around extremely drunk people.

I spent alot of time trying to understand why he did what he did and began to see it wasn’t about me. Mum and I even found out a little about his childhood which put major pieces of the puzzle together. He was emotionally abused and made to feel like an outsider from a woman I can only describe as a bitch. And what happened to him, he did to me. On top of that hes a manic depressive alcoholic and refuses to seek help.

Things have been rather tough lately, he’s been really bad with the drinking again and isolating himself from our family. My sister had a baby last month and Dad has refused to see her or the baby without any explanations and she’s crying inside because she is and always has been Daddy’s little girl. She went to visit him the other day and he simply walked inside and locked the door on her. This behaviour doesn’t surprise me, he’s done it to me for years but now I have left home and distanced myself from him, the other two are starting to get it. Sometimes I want to go up to him and literally slap his face and tell him to wake up. You don’t treat your own children like that when all they want is love and they want their Dad back.

I am a grown woman now and he knows those silly little mind fucks don’t work anymore. He’s infact created a very resilient daughter who will not take his shit anymore. What I won’t stand by and watch is him doing the exact same shit to my brother and sister. I have spent the weekend talking to my family and supporting the decisions this week. A crisis meeting has been set up and we are going to try and get him to make the first step and get help. To be honest I doubt it will make any difference, we’ve been down this road before. But for their sakes I hope something changes this time.

Me, I stopped having a Dad a long time ago. And it’s okay I made my peace with it. Does it make it any easier? No. Does it allow me the space I need. Yes. I still do the family thing when need be but very rarely these days. Moving up north will allow me to spend more time with my sister and brother and Mum will have the support she needs emotionally because the other two were too young to remember alot of the bad stuff, I am the only one that knows what he is like and I am the only one Mum can confide in completely and know’s that I understand. When people ask me why she stays, I simply reply with one word. Love. He’s ill. Underneath all the bad, there is a good man but he’s slowly disappearing into that damn bottle that consumes him.

So yea, I could prolly write a damn book on all of this, maybe one day I will. There’s not enough support for children living with a parent who is alcoholic and has a mental illness.We don’t want sympathy we want understanding. I have spent years growing up watching people’s eyes glaze over, the look of sadness and the “I’m sorry”. If more people stood up and said “hey this is not okay, you need help”, then maybe more children would have the chance of having a happy childhood. Friends and family need to be more proactive and step in. It’s not easy but it can be done. One day I will find peace with it all. For now as always, I will come to the aid of my siblings and shower them understanding and love and remind them I am always here and I know. I didn’t have anyone to cry on as a child, and being the big sister, I will give them that shoulder cause that’s what big sister’s do.