Thirteen years of living in the same house and I never knew who my own father was as a person. A few months ago, I ended what was left our strained relationship.Technically speaking, you could say that I didn’t end the relationship because I never really had one with him to begin with. I never knew the real him; I only knew the high or drunk version of him.

Before I was even born, he had a deep past with substance abuse and having two children and a wife was not going to change that. If anything, it made his problems worse. By the time he was 35, he had four DUIs and two paraphernalia busts on his record. His main drug of choice was marijuana, which he did every day until I was ten years old, then he started smoking four or five days a week. Every weekend, he would get drunk with his friends and get high on ecstasy. He also did crank, cocaine, and hallucinogenic mushrooms a few times.

Growing up in a situation like that seemed perfectly normal at the time, because it was the only thing I was accustomed to. It wasn’t until second grade when I met a new friend and started going over to her house nearly every weekend that I realized my family structure was far from normal. Her parents got along and loved to spend time together as a family. I started noticing that my father had his family as a bottom priority. Over us, was getting drunk or high. Since his top priority was drugs and alcohol, I never spent time with him; the most interaction I got was when he ruffled my hair. He was like a ticking timebomb.

Any little thing could set him off, and when he got set off, it was like World War III was taking place right in my house. My mom and dad fought nearly every day about everything. When my sister was about 16 years old, he started fighting with her as well. Every day, I dreaded him coming home because I never knew how he would be. My mom sheltered my sister and me from his addictions as well as she possibly could, which worked for years until my sister found a bag of marijuana in my parent’s bedroom. Mom stayed with him because she thought it would be best for her kids. She didn’t realize that raising two kids in that environment would have a lasting impact on our lives.

I have been through counseling for slight post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety and severe depression and have worked hard to deal with the baggage that living with an addict creates. Having experienced the impact of drug and alcohol abuse, I have no desire to ever try any illegal substances or alcohol, especially since addiction runs thick on both sides of my family.

My father’s choices to abuse substances led to him losing his wife, his two daughters, and many other family members. I have seen the negative impacts that substance abuse has on individuals and families and hope that others in this situation or addicts seek help to try and limit the harm done.