My relationship with my alcoholic mother
You know those moving, mom-related Hallmark commercials that tug at the heart strings? There’s always a mature mother with a beautiful smile and an adult kid my age. They are laughing and hugging. The daughter says something like, “My mother is my rock.” Show Mom how much you love and appreciate her with a card…
I have always wondered what it would be like to have this kind of mother-daughter relationship. So many people I know call their mothers their best friend. They describe fun Friday nights at the movies with Mom. Heart-to-heart conversations. Decision-making counsel.
I will never know what this feels like. Full honesty, I’m envious. It hurts that my mother and I do not have this.
Daughter of an alcoholic mother
My father and I were close; he compensated where Mom let us down. He was encouraging and supportive. But in my 20s when I had to step in and basically raise my little sister, I resented Dad and he felt it. I resented that he never went to Al-Anon or read any books to learn about how to help Mom and all of us. I resented that he let Mom’s alcoholism rule our lives. I resented that we were always struggling financially, yet Mom always had her beer and cigarettes. I resented that Mom often became violent in her drunkness and attacked Dad. I resented that they were both so ill and so incapable of getting help. I resented the pain.
The daughter of an alcoholic mother role reversal
I have never doubted that my mom loves my sister and me. Due to her difficult childhood and adolescence, she simply never developed into a grownup with the tools, confidence and mental health to be a mother. I have early memories of Mom being so loving and supportive but I was quite young when our roles reversed. By age eight 8, I was a mini adult. I have vivid memories of cleaning our house. No one told me to do it. I just knew it had to be done because if I didn’t do it, it wouldn’t get done. I woke myself up for school, ate cereal for breakfast, fed my chubby cat, got ready and then spent several minutes begging Mom to get out of bed to drive me to school (we lived outside of the school’s busing limits). I reminded my parents of all parental obligations related to school and followed up to ensure they did it (i.e. required volunteer hours at the fundraisers, donated boxes of tissue, etc.).
My relationship with my alcoholic mother is complicated. Growing up, I always hoped things would change. There is one memory that sticks out: In the seventh grade, I had a complete meltdown. I was so insecure and shy, going to school was brutal for me. I was nervous to the point of nausea and so distracted by my anxieties, I couldn’t think clearly to absorb the lessons during class. One night, I burst into tears about this. I told Mom how hard it was for me at school. I took a chance in opening up and asking for help. I worked hard to prevent anyone from knowing how I really felt so this was a big deal. I distinctly remember sitting on our blue-and-white striped couch and digging my toes into the carpet. My face in my hands, I was crying hard – the kind that hurts your stomach muscles. Mom sat across from me; she looked surprised and perhaps a little pleased that I was confiding in her. She started to say comforting things and though I pretended to ignore them, I was listening – hopeful for reassurance, a plan to me to overcome these challenges. But as I continued describing how things felt, she said she had to “go to the store for just a minute.” I remember how much it hurt that a beer run was more important than being present there in that moment if only to listen. That’s all I really needed and wanted: attention, comfort. But she left and I went to bed and cried myself to sleep. There was grief in those tears that night. Grief that she couldn’t be the mother I needed her to be.
Alcoholic mother – daughter relationships
As the years went on and I became a grownup, Mom fell further and further into alcoholism. I tried everything to get her to go to AA meetings or go to a recovery center. Looking back, I wonder how I avoided a nervous breakdown during this period. I was working full time in a demanding job during the economic crisis. I was basically Mom to my sister. I helped my parents financially. All the while, I was dying inside. I couldn’t imagine asking Mom for motherly advice about ANYTHING. I felt I was the only adult around and that was a heavy responsibility for a young woman. I felt I was the glue holding everything together. Mom and I hardly spoke. If we did, it ended in me shouting or sternly lecturing and Mom hanging up or stomping away and slamming a door. Then there were the situations involving the police. The humiliating apologies to the neighbors.
I was a twenty-something and Mom was a post-menopausal fifty-something. I was the mother and she was the daughter.
After Dad died, I had to move my sister out of the house. While we were grieving the sudden loss of Dad, we faced an even more painful situation: we were victim to Mom’s grief-fueled binges and abuse. When I packed up and left Mom there alone, I balled my eyes out. Imagine leaving an ill child behind. That’s exactly what it felt like I was doing. This is so difficult to explain to those who have not experienced anything like this in their lives but fellow adult children of alcoholics, particularly eldest daughters of alcoholics, know well how this goes.
I will always worry about Mom. I will always be her guardian. Our relationship will never resemble what Hallmark depicts in those touching commercials. But fortunately, I’ve mostly let go of expectations about my mother. I ignore the negativity. Most importantly, I forgive her for her substance abuse disorder and the negative impact it has had on my life.
I hope you are well in your journey.
p.s.
- This book – Perfect Daughters by Dr. Robert Ackerman – explores this the complicated topic: daughters of alcoholic mothers. Daughters of alcoholic mothers have particular characteristics and traits. Highly recommend it.
- Today, I chatted with fellow author and adult child of an alcoholic, Jo Huey. She has an inspiring story and is working to help children and families of alcoholics: JoHuey.co.uk.
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Jody Lamb is an author, blogger and adult child of an alcoholic on a journey to create an awesome grownup life. Visit JodyLamb.com. Twitter and Instagram: @JodyMLamb. YouTube: /JodyLamb. Facebook.com/JodyLambAuthor.
This really moved me, as all your writing does, glad to have come across you. Reading this in recovery as an ACOA, I want t say thank you for reminding me what a gift it is to be able to do those things for my own children that you describe as not being done for you. I became the over-responsible child in some ways but still struggle with taking care of myself and others; I think the recovery from growing up with substance abuse and neglect from parents can be lifelong. Perhaps it’s true that our greatest wounds can become our greatest healing. Wish you well wherever you are today; I want to sweep up that child you describe and hold her and listen to her – may we all be blessed with the ability to love and nurture our own inner child now. Big love
Hey Olivia, thank you. I am sure you are creating a wonderful life for yourself and your children today – drawing on everything you learned through those difficult experiences. Some of the greatest parents I’ve come to know had horrific childhood experiences. They have wisdom that other parents do not have. Best wishes to you!
This was so moving and beautiful – thank you for sharing. I can relate in so many ways, I definitely know what it’s like to take on the role of adult at such a young age. I recall so many actual adults that I would come in contact with commenting at how grown up I was and that just having a conversation with me was like to talking to another adult. It wasn’t just because of my father’s addictions and problems, but something I don’t write about on the blog is related to my mother because I still protect her to this day. In fact, it makes me a bit uncomfortable to even comment on this in the event she should stumble upon it. She tried, but it was obvious to me that she had her own struggles and although never diagnosed, I’m certain she suffered from depression. I felt as though I always needed to be there for her to depend on, I was the one to pick her up when she was down or things were chaotic. I was the one to take charge and make sure the house was packed up and things were ready during one of our many moves when she just felt like her world was falling apart. I was also the target of some of her lashing out when she was scared. The caregiver and protector role was one that I had to assume, and one that I still have a hard time letting go today.
I always enjoy reading your blog and I’m so thankful that we stumbled upon each other. Keep up what you are doing because I do believe that this work is not just important, but necessary.
Your story is so like my life each day I did not know what would happen her begging me to get her cider if I did not the verbal abuse I would get and if I did the verbal abuse I get because she was drunk. Each day. I pray she would not drink but she hid the bottles everywhere. But now she has dementia and I am her carer again and now a new circle of abuse starts. My wish has always been to have a mum like everyone else because mums are suppose to love you and build you up not tear you down and make you feel worthless. Do not get me wrong I love my mum with all my heart she my mum.
Hi Michele, best wishes for serenity for you and your mother.
Remember that your only job in life is to take good care of you.
When you describe the pain of leaving your mom being the same as leaving an I’ll child alone- wow my chest quivered. The unknown is the scariest thing to me. Glad I found this.
This!! 🙌🏻 It’s been hard to describe my grief for the past few months. I’ve been hesitant to call it grief since I know other people have been through worse.
When I read this excerpt I knew I was no longer alone:
“When I packed up and left Mom there alone, I balled my eyes out. Imagine leaving an ill child behind. That’s exactly what it felt like I was doing. This is so difficult to explain to those who have not experienced anything like this in their lives but fellow adult children of alcoholics, particularly eldest daughters of alcoholics, know well how this goes.”
Thank you for putting into words experiences, thoughts and emotions that I’ve held inside for years.
What an incredible article. Thank you for sharing part of your story! With understanding, K
here i am at 7:00am crying my eyes out because my 8 month old son has been up since 4 & only got to sleep now. im crying mostly because i wish i could call my mum for some motherly advice and to vent a little bit but because of her addiction i cant. i could relate to every word you said and being the eldest daughter also it took its toll. it hurts me that alcohol stole my mum away from me & i grieve the sober mum i very much love but i truly dislike the drunk mum which sadly has become her norm now..
Hi all. I am that drunk mother. My youngest is 17, and I hate that I am doing this to her. The things I have done, I could never imagine my mother doing. I can’t even admit to you the things I’ve done. What sucks is that I am fully aware of the pain I am causing, but I can not stop. Why is it so hard. All it does is cause terrible consequences. Rehab is pointless. It’s just 28 days sober, then I’m right back at it. There is always another bottom. I’m 100 feet under with how many bottoms I have hit. I know you all hate me. I know I am selfish. There is always hope, though, right? I was sober today, and I will try again tomorrow.
I came across this randomly and THIS is how I feel as a daughter of an alcoholic—these are the words I’ve been looking for to describe that feeling I have.
I too remember my mom being my “rock” and biggest supporter and one day that just all being gone—I lost that part of my mom to alcohol—I think about her back then and those times all the time. I always hope one day that that mom will return back to me. I would be so happy
This brought me to absolute tears. I cannot tell you how much I relate to every word choice, feeling and scenario you mention in your piece. This is how I feel everyday. The child in me continues to long for the mom I had as a young child. The teenager in me still cries over the way she would make me feel and the cruel things she would say when she was drinking. I had no idea why this was happening—I was so angry and felt so betrayed—by my own mom.
Now , I’m still angry, but each day I become better at handling her and I am slowly accepting that this is who she is. I wish addiction and alcoholism didn’t exist—i wish It was not a part of my life or my family’s. I wish My mom really knew how she makes me feel each time she decides to drink. I wish she simply knew how she makes me feel.