Tamola: Loving Someone With Addiction

One night, over a decade ago, my dad woke me up and took me to a diner at about 3 a.m.

However old I was, I was all, I mean like I know it’s 3 a.m., but YEAH I WANT SOME PANCAKES!

I guess you could say my dad is a night owl, and he did always seem to have some trouble sleeping.

Although we lived in Manhattan, the streets seemed especially desolate. Walking around the Lower East Side around 4 a.m. on a Wednesday felt like being in another world.

Dad ordered Belgian waffles or something, and I believe I ate grilled cheese (a staple in my pre-teen food group).

I loved that night. It was just fun and special. This serves as one of the most positive memories I have with my dad.

The rest of the memories are somber, some also being outright hilariously ridiculous.

So, my dad is a drug addict. I hate referring to him as a “drug addict,” as the term seems so definitive. He’s a lot of other things, too. He’s a retired firefighter, a father, a hater of my mother’s cooking, etc. This cat is complex.

Today, I refer to him as a drug addict, because that reality dictates every part of his life.

There are certain feelings I feel as his daughter.

Most days, I wake up feeling guilty.

I feel this guilt because many friends, classmates, therapists, etc. also share this knowledge of my father’s substance abuse problem.

It took me about 19 years to start talking about it and how it played into whatever I was feeling that day. Most days, I was just like, “HEY Y’ALL. I’M THE FRECKLED, LOUD GIRL WITH BAD TIMING. ANYONE KNOW THE QUICKEST ROUTE TO SOME DIET COKE?” and everyone was all like “…k. This girl is nine types of crazy, but she’s happy.”

Addiction is such a heavy, intense and personal entity. Often, I’ll feel like I’m doing something wrong when I’m sharing what I’ve witnessed. As cathartic as my writing about my relationship with my father can be, I’d be lying if I said I often feel very bad about how he would feel about me talking about it.

I often feel guilty for depicting someone’s reality and telling how it’s affected my own.

In the past, my father’s addiction also caused me to develop a sense of naivety.

I believed my dad when he said he experienced two full weeks without taking any pills, neglecting the fact that this was the same man who in 2009, picked up a pill on the floor of a hotel lobby, casually popped it in his mouth, looked at me and giggled. Lol, okay Dad. KEEPIN’ THINGS INTERESTING.

For about two decades, I wanted to believe all of my dad’s empty promises. I think many people want to believe that our parents can be these invincible creatures that really do hold the power to fix or do everything. Then again, what the hell do I know?

One summer day a few years ago, a new stage of my relationship with my father began, and that was my own self-preservation.

After my father forced me to contact some people regarding his gambling debts (because 5’2’’, 12-year-old-looking me is really an intimidating force of life that’s really going to mitigate a gambling issue), giver of life #1 (aka Carolanne, aka my mother) was all like “YOU ARE NEVER SPEAKING TO YOUR FATHER AGAIN.” I love my mom, but she scares me more than the serial killing Chucky doll from the 1990s, so whatever she tells me to do, I do it. Real words.

So I haven’t had a relationship with my father in almost three years. He didn’t attend my college graduation, there is a 99.9 percent chance he will not be invited to my next graduation, and I honestly fear for the next time I see him in person. It is what it is.

Honestly, the heroin, the alcohol and the other substances have ruined my father’s life. And I’m at a point in my life where I just can’t talk to him, as I can’t let it ruin my own life. This makes me feel selfish. Then I start to feel guilty again. I’d say it’s a cycle, but I didn’t get an “A” in psychology, so, yeah.

Acceptance is, I guess, where I’d say I live now. They say addiction is a disease, and I believe that. I honestly do not think my father has the ability to stop abusing drugs, even if he wanted to do so.

However, to put it eloquently, it still sucks.

There are at least 17.6 million Americans suffering alcohol or substance dependence, according to the National Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependence. Some days, it feels like the people who love these 17.6 million Americans seem to just be suffering.