This is a record of personal experience that has been de-identified, risk-screened, and linguistically organized; the original author's identity, geographic location, or identifiable details are not retained in the text.
When sober, he was the best father; after drinking, he seemed like a different person
From childhood to adulthood, the father I remember was a gentle, responsible person. He would patiently help me with my homework, take me to the park on weekends, and even take on household chores voluntarily when my mother was ill. But all of this was built on one premise—he hadn't drunk that day.
Once he drank, he changed completely. At first it was just talking too much, complaining about work frustrations and the pressure of life; later it turned into throwing things and shouting loudly, pouring out all his dissatisfaction with life. My mother would silently clean up the mess, while I would hide in my room and cover my ears. The next day, when he sobered up, he would apologize and promise not to drink again, but before long, the whole cycle would repeat.
This cycle lasted for several years. We thought he was just "a heavy drinker" or "in a bad mood," and it never occurred to us that this was actually a disease.
The hardest part was not knowing when the next episode would happen
The atmosphere at home was always tense. Whenever my father came home from work, my mother and I would instinctively observe his expression: whether his eyes were unfocused, whether his speech was slurred, whether there was the smell of alcohol on him. If he walked in normally, the whole family breathed a sigh of relief; if we caught the smell of alcohol, my mother and I would exchange a helpless look and then each retreat to our own space.
This uncertainty was more tormenting than the drinking itself. I even began to dread weekends and holidays, because those were the days my father was more likely to drink. Once, at a family gathering, he got half-drunk and suddenly flew into a rage at a relative, creating an extremely awkward scene. After that, my mother no longer wanted to bring him to social events.
Later I learned that one of the typical features of alcohol addiction is "loss of control": patients know full well that drinking harms themselves and their families, yet they cannot stop. This is not a problem that can be solved by "thinking more positively"; rather, pathological changes have already occurred in the brain.
How alcohol quietly changes the brain
After consulting a large amount of information, I came to understand that my father's behavior was not intentional. Alcohol acts directly on the brain's neurotransmitter system, stimulating dopamine secretion and producing a brief feeling of relaxation and pleasure. But if a person drinks heavily over a long period, the brain undergoes compensatory changes to maintain balance: it reduces natural dopamine secretion and develops tolerance to alcohol.
This means that my father was no longer drinking to feel pleasure, but to make himself feel "normal." Once he stopped drinking, the long-suppressed nervous system would rebound strongly, causing anxiety, hand tremors, insomnia, and even more severe withdrawal reactions. That is why he always said "I feel awful if I don't drink," yet could not quit through willpower alone.
Medically, alcohol addiction is defined as a chronic brain disease, not a moral failing. The World Health Organization has also clearly stated that there is no safe dose of alcohol, and that long-term drinking causes irreversible damage to internal organs and the brain.
What family members can do: from understanding to action
Once we realized this was a disease, my mother and I changed our attitude. We stopped blaming my father for "lacking willpower" and instead tried to communicate with him and understand why he drank. It turned out that he was under enormous pressure at work and had no other way to relieve it, so alcohol became his only outlet.
We took him to see a doctor. After evaluation, the doctor said that my father had developed moderate alcohol dependence and advised against stopping drinking abruptly at home (i.e., "going cold turkey"), because severe withdrawal reactions could be life-threatening. Under the doctor's guidance, my father received replacement therapy and vitamin B1 supplementation to prevent possible brain damage.
At the same time, we also adjusted the home environment: we no longer kept alcohol in visible places, avoided urging him to drink at family gatherings, and encouraged my father to develop other hobbies. These changes were slow, but at least they gave my father hope.
Breaking the silence is the only way to see the next step
In China, we have a very high tolerance for alcohol addiction, often treating it as a "lifestyle habit" or a "minor problem." But as I saw during my hospital internship, many patients are not brought in for treatment until they develop hallucinations or loss of control, and by then treatment has already become difficult.
If you or a family member is going through something similar, please remember: the first step is to break the stigma and acknowledge that this is a disease that needs treatment. Don't tough it out alone, and don't blindly "go cold turkey." Seeking professional medical help is the responsible choice for yourself and your family.
Now, my father has been in treatment for several months. He still occasionally wants to drink, but he can control himself. More importantly, our whole family has learned to face this problem squarely and no longer treat it as a shameful secret. The road ahead is still long, but at least we are walking in the right direction.
Learn more about family support, or use the self-assessment questionnaire for a preliminary evaluation of drinking problems.
Alcohol addiction is not a matter of willpower, but a brain disease that requires a scientific approach.