This is a de-identified, risk-screened, and linguistically refined personal account; it preserves no original author identity, location, or identifiable details.
Alcohol Dependence in the Family, Like an Invisible Thread
First, I want to talk about my family situation—or rather, an intergenerational pattern. My great-grandfather was alcohol-dependent, as were both my grandfathers. Coincidentally, they died in the same year, four months apart, during my kindergarten years due to long-term alcohol use. Back then, I was too young to understand death; I only remember adults weeping while I was passed around in their arms.
As I grew up, I gradually pieced together the meaning behind these memories. My uncles—both paternal and maternal—were heavy drinkers, with my second and youngest maternal uncles clinging to bottles like lifelines. Thankfully, my father disliked alcohol, which made me feel that despite my genetic predisposition, at least I wasn’t directly exposed to paternal alcoholism. But this relief didn’t last, because my second uncle became an inescapable shadow during my upbringing.
My Second Uncle’s Alcoholism Revealed Our Family’s Cracks
He was alcohol-dependent. In my early childhood, he seemed relatively normal, but later he was drunk almost daily. When intoxicated, he’d rage—shouting, cursing, smashing things. Exhausted, he’d collapse like sludge wherever he stood: sofa, floor, even the doorway. As a child, I’d often wake terrified by his roars, hiding silent under my blanket.
My cousin, his son, was once sensible. He’d argue with his father, snatch his bottles, trying to stop him from drinking. We all saw him as the family’s hope for change. But after returning to his hometown and living with his father, he transformed. He began drinking relentlessly, becoming a second version of his dad. I don’t know if he also raged drunk, but the man who once loathed his father’s alcoholism had now become an alcoholic himself. This left me with profound helplessness—as if alcohol dependence were an invisible thread tugging at every family member.
The Hardest Part? Realizing I’m Teetering on the Edge
Watching my cousin’s decline, I reflected on myself. Though I don’t drink, my fear and disgust toward alcohol made me hypervigilant. I dread that stress or emotions might one day push me down the same path. I avoid all alcohol-related events—friend gatherings, work dinners—making excuses to skip them. Because I know: one sip could mean no return.
I’ve realized the hardest struggle isn’t facing a parent’s alcoholism, but confronting my own inner turmoil. I fear becoming the next my cousin, fear my children enduring what I endured. So I chose the simplest solution: distance.
Distance Is My Shield
First, I moved away from my father—preferably to another city, or at least not cohabiting. At thirty, I need to focus on earning and building my career. As the saying goes, “Familiarity breeds contempt”; space eases our relationship. I’ve stopped expecting him to quit. A lifetime of alcohol dependence is like a grain of sand sunk in the Mariana Trench—irretrievable. This isn’t surrender, but acceptance, redirecting energy to what I can change.
Second, I learned to let go of past grievances. In this filial piety-obsessed society, cutting ties is impossible—busybodies would gossip relentlessly. So I stay far away, visiting on holidays, calling occasionally, providing financial support. When he’s immobile, I’ll hire a caregiver rather than step in myself. Harsh as it sounds, alcoholics don’t live long; drinkers risk strokes and heart attacks. This isn’t a curse, but fact. I must plan for my future.
Third, I abstain completely. I fake alcohol allergies, stomach issues, or claim one beer knocks me out—anything to avoid drinking. However much I resent my alcoholic father, his legacy lingers. My cousin proved that. I won’t let my children relive my trauma. This discipline isn’t weakness—it’s clarity.
As children, we couldn’t resist the suffering imposed on us. As adults, we must use strong hands to push life’s humiliations aside and face the sun. This isn’t platitude; it’s my daily mantra. If you’re in a similar situation, I hope you find your own way to protect yourself and those you love.
When facing alcohol-dependent family members, distance and self-discipline are effective forms of self-protection.