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Dear Children, I’m Sorry I Missed So Much of Your Childhood Because I Was Drunk

An apology to my kids for not being present

The other day I met with a new therapist. It’s an interesting thing to meet someone new when you have a lengthy history with another therapist.

But the truth is I’m not in the same place as when I first started therapy, and it’s useful to start with someone who only knows me for who I am now. They don’t necessarily need to know how I got here. I will share relevant information, but it’s essentially a fresh start with someone new and objective. We haven’t even started yet, but I can feel things bubbling up from the past.

My kids are without a doubt the most important people in the world to me. Some recent introspection has me feeling sorry for several things, but this hits hard for me right now.

Something I’m suddenly dealing with is the awareness that my kids are growing up right in front of me. Not that I wasn’t aware before, but 18 months into sobriety I’m facing the fact that I wasn’t who I wanted to be for the first 10 years of their lives. I wasn’t really there for them the way I should have been.

I didn’t know it when they were babies. And toddlers. And pre-schoolers, first-graders, and now almost middle schoolers. I thought I was just a regular human. A high-functioning, tongue-in-cheek alcoholic dad struggling through life and marriage.

What I have to confront now is the knowledge that my daughter’s early years are behind her and that I wasn’t present for all of them. In fact, because of my drinking and behavior, she may have to deal with some of the fallout from it.

I wasn’t abusive in any way, but I know I was more frustrated at times because drinking was my coping mechanism to deal with the stress and trauma of becoming a parent. Just like “wine moms,” I was a “beer dad.” Alcohol was present on every occasion — even at the kids’ birthday parties. Instead of a gathering being about them, it usually became about drinking.

Vacations weren’t vacations unless I was “relaxing” with a drink. Luckily I was sober when I took the picture above, and I am thankful for that.

But most of the time I wasn’t sober. My wife threw me a huge, surprise 40th birthday party a few years ago, and I barely remember having a picture taken with my kids with my cake — which was shaped like a giant beer mug. Even the theme of the party was “Cheers and Beers for 40 Years.” A good sentiment and all, but I don’t want alcohol to be my legacy.

Upon entering into parenthood, I wasn’t prepared for the amount of change that would come. I found myself reeling because of it. And since I had already been drinking for years, it seemed only natural to double down.

To cope with the stresses of life and early parenthood, I drank every chance I got. I convinced myself that this was the relaxation I needed. This was my way to unplug and unwind.

Except all it did was take me to another place: A place without my family and my little girl.

I may have done her harm because I wasn’t taking care of myself properly. I was rarely rested, clear-eyed, or excited for the day. Addiction is a coping mechanism that takes us out of the moment. Not to mention that you sleep for shit when you’ve been drinking, and parenting is already a study in sleep deprivation.

Alcohol masks the pain or discomfort we feel, though it doesn’t make it go away. That’s how trauma is passed down from generation to generation. Instead of dealing with it, we find an unhealthy way to cope. The pain always finds another way out. The pain I was masking with alcohol may have been passed on to her because I was angry with myself. Who knows how many times I responded differently because of those circumstances?

I didn’t care for her the way I would’ve had I been sober. My only hope is that my awareness and recovery will aid in her journey and that being with her now will help put us back on track before she moves out — which feels like it may be next week.

That said…

Dear B,

I’m sorry for every time I wasn’t there for you when you needed comfort and love instead of discipline or structure. I’m sorry I was tired or hungover and didn’t play with you as much as I could have when you wanted me to.

I’m sorry if my behavior turned on genes and behaviors that you will have to deal with later on in life. I’m sorry for all the times I yelled at you or lost my patience, and I’m sorry for expecting things of you that aren’t who you are.

I’m sorry that you’re so much like me and that it takes me a very long time to understand certain things.

I’m sorry for not always accepting you for the special and amazing person you are, and I’m sorry for not being the dad you deserved.

I know I can’t make up for all the lost time I wasn’t in a good place to spend time with you, but I’m here now.

Love Always, Dad