Caregiving for a Parent with Substance use challenges (and not knowing it.)

Growing up, I wouldn’t have ever identified alcohol or substances as an issue in my home. There were so many other struggles I would have named first: my older brother passing away when we were very young, my parents' combative divorce, and the difficulty of step-parents entering and leaving my life. However, alcohol was always present, especially at family gatherings and social events which made me feel a little shy and uncomfortable at times as the events became more loud and lively.

As I got older and my mom became a single parent to me and my sister, she also began battling various autoimmune diseases and health complications. I assumed it was the financial pressures and health issues that caused her unpredictable mood fluctuations, the classic “walking on eggshells”, unsure of which version of my mom would be present that day (or time of day).  It was difficult and confusing to navigate as I considered my mom my safe space, especially after all we had been through it was my mom, my sister and I against the world. Everyone, including my mom, built her up as this strong, incredible woman, which she was, but there was much more to it than that. I spent so much of my time worrying about her health, trying to cheer her up, and shifting her moods into more positive ones, even as my mood started to deteriorate. 

By my teenage years, our relationship became tumultuous. At the time, I had no idea how to process my childhood, let alone the hormonal shifts and my first real heartbreak that comes with adolescence. As I struggled more and more with my mental health, my mom dismissed my pain, often invalidating how difficult things had become. I started seeing a therapist, who would also occasionally meet with my parents individually or all of us together but this only added to the conflict with my mom. Either something I said or my dad would say would upset her and cause a fight. It felt impossible to care for her feelings while also trying to navigate my own suffering. 

I was so confused how my mom could love me so much but struggled to be compassionate towards me when I was clearly suffering. I felt like my suffering was my own, yet hers was a collective burden. It felt hypocritical and unfair. The more and more serious my mental health struggles became, including self-harm, suicidal ideation and attempts, and stays at the psych ward, the more withdrawn and less present my mom would be. Most of our communication was just confrontational, with the tone that my suffering was difficult for her. It was extremely lonely, made me feel worthless and made it harder to have hope for myself and my future. I didn’t understand how she could be almost emotionless when it came to almost losing me, and it definitely affected the way I viewed her and our relationship. I was really on my own during this time and eventually felt I was the only one who could really make a difference; that my mom would not save me as it felt I had saved her many times.

Our relationship fractured, but when I finally moved out, I noticed my mental health improving. Miraculously, me eventually moving out started helping my mental health , and the less of a relationship we would have helped me. It felt like a lot of what I believed about my mom had also been fractured. I felt like I had seen the full picture, instead of being blinded by what I was taught to believe. She may be incredible and strong, but she also was able to show me empathy, compassion and at times a maternal energy at all. 

It wasn’t until a friend said, “You know your mom is an alcoholic, right?” that something shifted. I was completely caught off guard. It had never even occurred to me. I was embarrassed that this was an issue, but even more so that I didn’t notice.

It is hard to recover from those you trust saying awful things to you, or blaming you for things that aren’t your fault. It’s easier now to separate the real person, and the alcohol use talking, doing whatever it can to defend itself. The feeling of being ‘damaged goods’ is still present, but I try to listen to that voice less and less.

Coming to terms with my mom’s alcoholism wasn’t just about recognizing her struggles, it was about finally making sense of my own. The biggest fallout from these relationships in my opinion, was the lack of ability to trust myself. I think it’s too easy to get swept up in others' challenges and your care/desire for them to get better. It’s hard to have boundaries, take care of yourself or even listen to yourself. I wish I listened to my gut and myself that something was not right; so today I try as often as possible to honour that now. Live authentically and trust your gut. What feels wrong for you feels wrong and you don’t need anything to justify it.

My life has been ever affected by alcohol challenges and its stigma, and never will not be but I was able to learn and grow a lot and hope to help others know they can do the same.

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